TDM #4

[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.)

➥ Toying With You

(cw: creepy toys, possible violence, supernaturally induced emotions)

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 enter the area will eventually stumble upon...a very interesting sight. Take enough confusing, branching paths, and they’ll find a variety of toys abandoned in...a variety of ways.

Some, reminiscent of the happenings of the past month, can be found dangling from branches, or from contraptions of sticks and string staked into the ground. Others might be found arranged in patterns...or simply discarded. Some appear to be tied up. Perhaps surprisingly, there is no evidence of the destruction of these toys. Some may appear to be disintegrating but that’s age, not malice. There are old toys and new toys to be found. Maybe it’s just a prank, or an art installation?

Nothing seems to happen to anyone who ventures to touch the toys. At least...not right away. However, any character who does decide to touch a toy will start to feel like they just don’t have...enough. It might manifest as being particularly possessive over things or people they feel are theirs...or in coveting what they don’t already have (be it material or immaterial). These urges will fade away on their own in time, but who knows what might happen before they do?

➥ Pick a Pocket

(cw: mention of vehicular collisions, supernaturally-induced sleep/fatigue)

There is an ethereal music spreading throughout town. It started in the graveyards last month, but now it's spreading, even as collisions and other accidents continue to pile up. Tourists and locals, alike, will find keeping awake incredibly difficult as October rolls in with a rumble of thunder and a splash of rain. Even caffeine doesn't seem to help much with the problem. The music is only just there, just at the edge of awareness, and it's a song that you know. You can't entirely place it, but it's maddeningly familiar.

The local gangs seem to have taken note of the situation, and have taken to sending out their seemingly more resilient members for some mischief. Specifically, pickpocketing those they might find sleeping or less alert than usual. You might be half-falling asleep on a bus when a hand reaches into your pocket or your bag. You might witness the thief in action, stealing from someone else. Or maybe you're someone keen to take advantage of the situation, yourself. There's money to be made for someone with even moderately light fingers when the target is snoring on a park bench or zoning out while sitting at a cafe.

There doesn't seem to be an even effect to the music. It impacts some people in the same vicinity more than others with seemingly no rhyme or reason. The one constant that does appear for those digging deeply, is that ADI HQ and the ADI housing complex seem to be less affected by the music. It can still sometimes be heard, but it's not nearly as prominent as it is throughout the rest of the city.

➥ Sleeper's Paradox

(cw: supernaturally-induced sleep/fatigue, mild memory loss)

For as much as everyone seems to be sleeping lately, it does not seem to be restful sleep. In fact, people dozing off regularly will find themselves even more exhausted and irritable than usual. Again, this seems to be far more pronounced for anyone straying too far from ADI's properties for extended periods.

Another feature of this latest round of supernatural irritation is that even those who tend to remember their dreams may have trouble with that. You might remember that the dreams weren't pleasant, but that's about it. The specifics are as elusive as the source of the singing.

Festive planning for the end-of-the-month Halloween Party is in full swing at ADI, and characters may find themselves strong-armed by Pam and other HR personnel, in spite of any grumpiness and exhaustion, into helping with some part of it. Will you be assisting with making decorations? Buying supplies for the kitchens? Helping those who might not understand Halloween to find the perfect costume? Everyone is feeling a little out of sorts, and having trouble focusing, so there's some particular pushing to spread tasks out to everyone possible so it doesn't fall on a single individual. Anyone who helps will be compensated for their time, and they might even get some extra cash to buy their own fancy costume or preferred food for the party.

➥ Mod Notes

• ARRIVAL (Oct 1 - 31): 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.
  
  
• Toying With You (Oct 1 - 31): Characters who physically interact with abandoned toys will find themselves overwhelmed by feelings of jealousy and/or possessiveness. Depending on how much interaction they have with the toys, these feelings might be stronger or last longer. (Anyone who, for example, removes a toy from Dogtown will probably find themselves helpless NOT to act on the feelings.) Strength of feeling and duration of time is up to player discretion. The source of these feelings could be anything, including the toys themselves. The toys can be destroyed but are not clumped all in one spot. It may take some searching to find them all.
  
  
• Pick a Pocket (Oct 1- 25): Characters are welcome to experience, enact, or stop a crime. You may find yourself victim, hero, or perpetrator. The number of people asleep or having trouble staying awake will increase the closer you get to graveyards and seem to decrease the closer you get to ADI-owned buildings. The decrease in sleepiness around ADI buildings does not extend to anyone living at Bonnie's. Characters may find themselves falling asleep in the middle of trivial or important tasks, perhaps even in the middle of conversation. This is a supernatural sleep, but for the moment, it seems easy enough to wake someone up with a loud noise or a shake. Or, if you're feeling particularly vindictive, a splash of water to the face.
  
  
• Sleeper's Paradox (Oct 1-25): Characters are welcome to take part in whatever party planning they wish to for ADI's Halloween party. Everyone affected by the drowsiness that's taken over the city will find that they cannot remember the specific nature of their dreams; although, they will have the sense that they did have them, and they were unpleasant. The effects of the fatigue may affect other memories or result in increased irritability, and decreased focus and reaction times. Characters may find themselves more prone to error than usual, even those who are typically known for being on-point at all times.
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[apocalypsehowmods]

Chris Sonom | D&D OC

[chrisisofaith]

Arrival
Bhaal. A deal to let Bane back in. To offer him a place at their table, a devil's deal for lasting peace. It's a swirling moment of neasuea and certainty and 'gods, I'm really doing this. I suggested it, if it goes wrong, it's my-'

And then he's breathing in stale dust and there's metal all around him and a grate below him and the panic mixed with confusion mixed with a head already spinning with implications and complications and-

The vent grate holding the lanky blond can't hold him as Chris thrashes to see where he is and there's a graceless yelp as the ruling head of House Sonom is dumped into a pile of limbs to the ground below. It's the proverbial and almost literal knock to the head he needs to draw in a breath he didn't know he was missing as he stares up at where he'd fallen from. He likely looks a bit of a sight, dressed in traveling gear with a raven's skull necklace clearly visible on his chest. To top it all off, there's a moment of silence before a black stick seems to lose it's precarious balance in the vent and clatters to the ground beside him.

The cleric lays there a moment, breath evening out as he finally finds enough sense to ask: "Where the fuck am I?"

Toying With You
It was clearly a test. 'Go into Dogtown and see what's up' was irritatingly vague, but simple and perfect for someone whose skills you couldn't yet trust. It made sense, he just didn't like it.

Chris largely kept his peace on the way in, even with another assigned to go with him (that, at least, was smart if there was trouble to be found). Death's Door held tight in hand and appearing like a plain black walking stick instead of the scythe it could be. Again, a precaution.

One toy along the route was odd. A cluster was brow-raising, but the ones that were strung up between two trees like a banner of flags was what had the cleric coming to a stop.

"Alright, well...ominous. Possible ritual....possibly just a freak." His voice lighter, accent lilting, and tone about as bored as he felt, Chris lifted the staff up to poke at one of the dolls that swung above them.

"Think if we cut it down some spell'll fall on our heads?" That would be interesting.

Pick a Pocket
A(Being stolen from)- He didn't remember nodding off. He'd been leaning vaguely against the side of a building waiting for all the insanely fast traffic to pass when he sort of just...closed his eyes. Or must have. Because the next thing he was aware of was clumsy fingers attempting to slip into his cloak's pocket. Fingers Chris grabbed with lighting reflex and wrenched the would-be-thief's arm up and back behind them as he spun to press their face into the building's rough exterior. "My sister and boyfriend'd both have you robbed clean of all but what you were born with had you tried that on them. Try it a little harder next time and maybe you'll get somewhere ya dope." The last part he punctuates with an unkind twist of the person's wrist before letting them go.

B (Stopping the stealing)- It isn't more than a handful of days later that it's someone else asleep this time. A bench cradling them unwisely on the side of a street when Chris notices someone hovering far too closely to them. Not protectively, but shifty, eyes darting and form tense. In a quick second of decision, Chris' strides grow wider and the long black pole of he carries ends up jammed into the person's shoulder to push them back, though the other end clangs against the bench itself loudly. "Watch it." It's said coldly, but evenly, glare leveled at the person bold enough to reach for a person in broad daylight.

Sleeper's Paradox
Chris had no idea what Halloween was. Something about...scaring people? Using ghostly iconography and gourds to decorate a place and who knew what else. What he did know was that his penmanship and height had not gone unnoticed by someone at the ADI as was his general lack of anything else to do. So it was he ended up writing out some things in scrawling, curling, handwriting and now, up at the top of a ladder to hang some of these paper decorations they wanted. Which...would have been fine if he wasn't dead tired and half falling asleep here on top of said ladder.

He sways a bit, but catches himself as he jerks his head up again. His hand flails out in the process and some of the streamers of paper flutter down to the ground with a pathetic little 'thip' and Chris' own sigh as his fingers come up to dig against his eyes. "Ladyship preserve me...or dump me off this thing and be done with it, either way..." He blamed the new setting, the lack of his friends, his thoughts constantly swirling about what he'd left behind, all coming into his vague and unsettling dreams. What he wouldn't give for a few blissful hours of ignorant rest. b

Toying with You

[guildmastermind]

"I've heard of this place, actually. The toy cemetery--children in town dare one another to come out here as a sort of test of bravery."

Shiroe made some effort to appear more normal today--he's wearing a dark turtleneck and green pants, a boxy bag sitting at his hip. But he's also wearing a computer mouse around his neck, the cord knotted to keep it out of the way. He's nervy, not touching anything and occasionally checking a local area map on his ADI-issued phone.

"I'm not sure I recommend changing anything without knowing more about it. Even if it's not bespelled, it could have an ill effect."

Glancing around the area, a bit of a frown develops on his face. "Unrelated to the toys, do you have any liquor on you?"

Sleeper's Paradox

[twistedbones]

"Whuzzat?!" comes an incoherent objection from underneath a nearby folding table laden with supplies, under which some of the dropped paper just scattered. Thackery lashes out when something hits him, waking him from a stolen nap; there's the sound of crumpling and tearing as he tries to fight off--

--What is this, even?

Pick a Pocket - B

[mistersquirrels]

Eric startles awake when something loud clangs against the bench.

"Wha--"

He nearly falls off the bench, only just barely catching sight of the commotion in front of him, not even realizing that someone was just about to rob him. Despite the rather abrupt wake-up, the exhaustion still grabs at him and he yawns a second later, collapsing back down against the bench to watch the drama.

"What's going on?"

Pick a Pocket - A

[graveyounglady]

Mercy's half-asleep, even as she's walking, when sudden movement and a pained grunt from nearby startle her out of her haze. She gasps, head turning sharply toward a man who's thrown another person up against the side of the building. She hadn't actually seen what happened, nor caught off of the muttered words, so she's currently very much on the injured party's side.

"Hey!" She balls up her fists and frowns mightily. "You can't go shoving people around, sir. That ain't right. You apologize right now." She's dressed in what looks to be an archaic dress by modern standards with a white cloth tied over her hair.

Marian Tenebris | Original

[einselective]

Toying With You

"A one hundred dollar reward. Please. As if it wasn't bad enough relying on Initiative. Now a pitiful offer of petty cash is supposed to be sufficient incentive to investigate dangerous activities? Hah."

Despite her bitterly harsh words, Marian is out here anyway with a surprisingly decent looking handheld camcorder. Offering to assist with the Initiative's equipment division has its perks.

And the reality is... she's seen the inklings of apocalypse is her own fractured, fragmented world. It could be different here. Better. Stop things before they get to a point where no one can turn it back...

The first sign of something odd, a toy danging in a little cage from a tree, causes Marian to frown, glaring at it as if somehow that will determine whether or not it's important enough to actually film for a moment.


Pick a Pocket

The music bothers Marian. Actually, quite a few things bother her, especially here, especially after everything that's happened before she arrived here... But the coldness and chill of the rainy air feels like it helps a little. A brisk outing to get a coffee before heading back to do some research seemed like a good idea.

Clearly not everyone feels like the crisp October weather helps. Her eyes drift to a woman dozing in the bus shelter -- and the teenager who ducks in out of the rain and slips the women's purse out from her unresisting hand.

"Hey, you!" Marian barks out, and the teenager takes off down the street, stolen purse in hand, as the women starts awake. "Thief!" She yells after him. Someone grab that miscreant!


Sleeper's Paradox

"No of course I'm not going to the party."

Marian scowls, half turning back to the library computer terminal. If shed been able to sleep half decently, that could have been the end of it, but hazy unpleasant dreams have made an already straightforward personality downright argumentative.

"What a ridiculous idea. They tell us that there are forces in this world feeding on fear, then in no time at all propose celebrating a holiday based on 'spooky' and 'scary' things." The exaggerated tone of voice makes it clear exactly where her feelings on Halloween fell to begin with, too. "Don't tell me you're planning to attend?"

sleeper's paradox

[brushoff]

The young man Marian's talking to looks purposefully put together. He's a fashion plate, wearing the latest trends, cut in a way that look good on him. He also, despite his best efforts, looks tired. There's nothing physical that shows his tiredness: no bags under the eyes or anything like that. But he is radiating Big Tired Energy.

Dorian looks at Marian like she's a goddamn idiot as she asks her question. "Of course I'm going," he says, with a frown. His tone of voice (British and disdainful) also implies she's a goddamn idiot. "It's a party. Why wouldn't I go? Besides, Halloween's not about the spooky or scary—not anymore, at least. It's about wearing something slutty and making out with someone else wearing something slutty."

Pick a pocket

[worthallthis]

The miscreant gets maybe half a block before a large man, dressed in several layers of black and with a mask and dark goggles covering his whole face, steps out from between two buildings. He grabs the thief's collar in one gloved hand, then lifts him right off his feet to carry him back towards Marian like he's a stray cat the masked man is returning.

All without a word, at least so far.

Razputin Aquato | Psychonauts 2

[rah_rah_raz]

Arrival

"Hello?"
Unlike the bright, bold lines of the Mother Lobe, the building that Raz found himself in was colder, less open, frankly a little scary. His psychic powers felt... weak, disconnected, like he'd been hit with Psylirium poisoning again. Was this another Psychonauts facility like the one under the Rhombus of Ruin? He called out again-
"Sasha? Milla? Lili? Anyone here? Ford? Nona? Hello?"

Pick a pocket

Since 'no psychic powers' was a rule that Raz absolutely couldn't bring himself to follow, he found himself being directed to Bonnie's. It wasn't the worst place to be- certainly less cramped than the family caravan, and it meant he didn't have to share with more than one person. But being away from his family at Camp Whispering Rock was one thing, he had a reason to be there, a purpose, something to distract himself with. He wouldn't admit it if asked, but he was starting to miss the rest of the Aquato clan. Yes, even Dion. Usually he'd try to stay out of people's way as much as he could, but in this instance, you can find him passed out on the stairs, blocking your way up. Poor lil guy looks like he needs the sleep.

Sleeper's Paradox

Ah, Halloween. Raz usually tended to be too busy between training and rehearsing to indulge in trick or treating, especially since neither of his parents really celebrated it- definitely not enough to give him and his siblings a night off training to gorge on sugar. Here, however, the atmosphere was already burgeoning with excitement for the event, and despite his distrust of the ADI and their anti-psychic policies... Well, sue him for sneaking in to steal some sweets where he can.

pick a pocket

[owlmother]

[ ... Kuro is not the most humorous of creatures even on the best of days, but she is a mother still. The sight of what she's pretty sure is a human kit having a nap on the stairs is inappropriate. Someone get this child an actual place to rest where he won't get stepped on, like she almost did; some of the people here are very pointy underfoot.

So she reaches down and plucks him up by the scruff with her beak. Under normal circumstances he'd be absolutely no effort to lift, but even at only nine feet tall with her great strength reduced, it's like picking up a moderately weighty bag as she continues her way up the stairs. She'll just have to find a couch somewhere. ]

Eric Matthews | Boy Meets World

[mistersquirrels]

A. Arrival -

One moment, he was sitting on the couch in the apartment. The next, he's plopped down unceremoniously in a rolling office chair in the middle of a perfectly ordinary office.

It looks perfectly normal--there's people milling about, doing office things, busy on computers and talking on phones and filing paperwork and asking about how's the weekend, Jan, and how are the kids, Bob--

Eric screams.

"It's happening. It's actually happening--"

He turns to the person nearest him--office worker, maybe, or just a random person, he has no idea but it's important that he has an audience--

"--I've been preparing for this my whole life but it's finally here."

A dramatic pause.

"I've time-traveled...to the future."

B. Toying With You -

Eric can't stop taking pictures.

Of mostly random things. It's just so cool to have a camera that you don't have to send the film away to be developed?

Snap. A cool rock, immortalized!

Snap. A leaf shaped like a dog. Neat!

Snap. His partner's face, hopefully not too annoyed.

"Aw, come on, this is fun! Besides, isn't this more interesting than those weird creepy toys over there?"

He smiles blankly as he points to a pile of cast-off dolls and puppets and things just off to their side, that he happened to notice a literal second ago out of the corner of his eye.

It's probably fine.

C. Pick a Pocket -

He is so tired.

"Hey, do you get jet lag from crossing dimensions?"

Eric sprawls over a park bench and yawns as he holds a cup of coffee, looking blearily out at the bustle around him. It's a nice day but he can scarcely keep his eyes open.

"That's gotta be what this is."

He yawns again and rubs his face, as an enterprising pickpocket reaches out to snatch his wallet.

Eric sees everything and languidly points to them.

"Hey. Stop that."

If only he had the energy to chase after them. His voice is flat, dull, sleepy.

"Oh no. They're getting away."

D. Wildcard - Anything goes!

B!

[einselective]

The shot he grabs of Marian is perhaps a little exasperated, but not too annoyed. That's about as good as most people will get with her. She is being a bit more restrained with her own higher-end camcorder, saving SD card space for anything important. But at least between the two of them, nothing will get missed.

Like that suspicious pile of abandoned toys. She hasn't watched enough horror movies to have any expectations, but it certainly is oddly creepy in a way.

"Fun is not exactly the word I would use," she replies dryly. It's probably good that someone else is out here to help keep an eye on this kid.

Turning her gaze along the path, she realizes that there's another puppet perched high up is a tree. Caught there by the wind, perhaps? Or did someone climb to put it there?

"I'd hardly call any of this 'interesting'. Odd, certainly. But nothing 'paranormal'." She mutters half to herself, recalling their instructions as she stares at the toy. It's not exactly disbelief per se. But more of a stubborn residual belief that even the unexplained must have a certain kind of logic behind it and disdain for 'magical' thinking.

Kuro | Ori and the Blind Forest

[owlmother]

i. arrival

[ It sounds like there's a beast in the building. There's a bad racket coming from somewhere. A jumble of thumping, the occasional hellish high-pitched shriek, and the sound of plaster and wood tearing as something scratches at the walls.

Anyone following the source of the noise will be lead to one of the smaller closets in some corridor. By the sound of it, it's no raccoon gone haywire. Whatever's been dropped into this corner of ADI is huge. And it's not happy to be here. ]

ii. pick a pocket

[ The human illusion beyond the grounds of the ADI works very well. Unfortunately, the nature of it does cause the occasional misunderstanding.

Some unlucky pickpocket had the misfortune of trying to reach for Kuro's pockets, but being as she is, those tricky hands only poked and prodded into down and feather, which she patiently responds to by turning around to glare and then beating them upside the head with her wing. It's no light buff either; the impact lands with all the force of a full slug, and the thief crumples.

Well. Sentient as she is, she's still a wild animal. Sue her for being touchy after the awful sleep she's been getting. ]

iii. sleeper's paradox

[ Despite her grumpiness and protests, Kuro had been roped into helping put up decorations. Or, well. Trying to. It's hard when all you have is two talons and a beak, but someone's still put her up to it, and at this point she's too prideful and stubborn to give up even though she's definitely not getting anywhere putting up streamers without two hands to work with. ]

iv. wildcard
[ got something else? hmu! ]

i

[septieme]

[That was decidedly an inhuman sound, wasn't it? Of course such a racket would attract curious onlookers, even if the nature of the noise would probably put more cautious people on guard, if not discourage the less brazen ones entirely.

Not the young woman in the vicinity at this time, however. Footsteps rapidly approach before stopping, and after taking one look at the scene, the closet door is opened without hesitation regardless of the damage already done judging by the splintered wood poking out.]

--Excuse me! Is everything okay?

[Ignoring the fact that all the noise seems to point to "no"...]

ii

[sorser]

[This bone-deep tiredness is hard to fend off, but Stephen’s found that keeping himself busy at least gives the illusion of some kind of control over it — that he isn’t going to nod off in the middle of conversation or decide to take a nap while he’s crossing the street. So he’s out today, testing the relation between locations throughout the city and the strength of such sleepiness when—

He watches a woman practically strike a would-be thief, sending them careening back and crumpling to the ground. Stephen winces at the sight, and even though there’s not much sympathy to be had for a thief taking advantage of the odd situation blanketing the city, he has to admit: that had to hurt.]

I won’t say he didn’t deserve it— [ He starts, walking towards the scene. Already, the guy is trying to scramble to his feet to retreat with his tail between his legs.] —but try not to give a guy a concussion?

iii

[mistersquirrels]

[Eric is passing by, holding an armful of paper fans and streamers and terrible honeycombed tissue paper monstrosities when he sees what he can only describe as a giant owl trying to put up streamers.

Huh.

Well.

Okay then.

Eric puts his bundle of things down and walks up to them, all smiles. He's never had a chance to talk to an owl before!]

Hey, you need any help here?

abel nightroad | trinity blood

[inutilis]

i. arrival

[ it is early, sleepy morning in the ADI buildings when comes an eerie, haunting sound. perhaps one hears it over their morning cup of joe, stirring creamer blearily into slightly overburnt coffee; it was quiet at first -- a distant noise a little like a wailing on the wind. and then... slowly but surely... it is rising in pitch and fervor until there's no denying its existence. something is coming from this hall.

the closer you get to the janitorial closet, the louder that sound becomes... the banshee-like screech of some kind of beast, a pounding at the closed door as if something is struggling vehemently to be free. some kind of monster--? a demon?! a specter here in ADI's very heart...?!?! but should your bravery (or masochistic curiosity) bring you to the door in question, it will become apparent that this phenomenon is, in fact, far more mundane and far less menacing in nature,

...that is definitely a man sobbing and thumping against the closed closet door, the light switch on the outside flicked 'off,' leaving the interior in darkness. and from the sounds of it, its occupant is not particularly fond of this situation in the least-- ]

--let me out, please LET ME OUT!! It's DARK and s-something is touching my foot, I--

[ more pitiful thumping of fists against the door, ]

I-is this some kind of experimental torture technique?! You KNOW I'm scared of the dark!! Miss Estheeeer, just... just open the door, would you?! We can handle this like reasonable adults, s... surely! ...Hello? [ ... ] HELLO??

[ his voice cracks on that last one,

...the door isn't locked, by the way. ]

ii. pick a pocket

[ there is a chill in the air, a nippiness that certainly lends one to seek out something warm and soothing to ward off the shivers. fall is the time for leaves changing color, for brisk mornings and a bit of a bite on the wind, an excuse to whip out gloves and scarves and boots, and for everything pumpkin spice to make its resounding return (though whether that last bit is a boon or curse is in the eye of the beholder). naturally, this means that the café should be a pretty popular joint, right? and for a priest with a sweet tooth that runs exceptionally deep, there's no better place to spend one's free time while adjusting to life in a new dimension, or world, or reality. (not that he has much experience with most of that list, personally speaking.)

the local gangs may have decided they're keen on capitalizing on one's propensity for dozing off in public places for personal gain... and what self-respecting man of the cloth would ever find himself inclined to do the same?? abhorrent, if you ask Abel. yes, absolutely and utterly abhorrent!! to lift one of their possessions while they are blissfully asleep is a cruel and heartless endeavor, and any who succumb to such temptations should find themselves with the desire to repent!!!!

...Lord who art in Heaven. forgive him his weakness.

perhaps you're passing by the café on a walk, hoping the cold air will keep you from finding your eyelids heavy as they're wont to be as of late. or maybe you're exiting the café yourself, hoping a good and hearty dose of caffeine will put the pep back in your step. whatever you were doing, maybe... just maybe, your timing happens to be just right to catch the lanky priest unsubtly attempting to coerce an éclair out from under the fingers of a man who has precariously dozed off, chin to his chest, at one of the tables outside the main entrance.

and maybe, just maybe, as said priest is bringing his stolen goods to his mouth (said éclair is half-eaten; this man has no shame)... your eyes meet-- and he freezes like a deer in headlights as he is caught directly in the act of pastry-theft.

well.

...this is awkward.

nobody make any sudden moves, o-okay... ]

iii. wildcard

[ ooc: want to run into Abel somewhere else, or have an idea for a prompt not listed here? feel free to PM me or go wild! i will follow your lead. this also goes for prose or brackets, i can roll with either! for the arrival prompt, feel free to have your character dropped in with him as another unceremonious newbie and join Abel in his dark-closet welcome, too! ]

ii

[septieme]

[The short-haired woman whose gaze a certain shameless pastry devourer itinerant of the cloth coincidentally happens to cross has just stepped out of the cafe's front doors. She's sporting a pink apron and is carrying a tray in one hand, where a small white cup of piping fresh espresso shot is resting alongside a silver spoon on top of an equally dainty white plate. The (obvious) employee's perfect customer service smile doesn't flutter in the slightest, as she finishes sauntering up to the very table he and the asleep victim are at. (Did someone say no sudden movements? There's nothing sudden about this, so--)

The plate and the cup softly clink as they are deposited onto the table, she then tucks the round brown tray against her abdomen. The man who made the order may be no longer conscious, but that doesn't have any bearing on its completion and delivery, now does it?

...]

...

i

[epiprocta]

[ So. Abel. That thing touching your foot?

Turns out it's another person's foot.

Because Gen slowly blinks awake with to nausea swimming in his guts and a headache pounding through his temples. The fuck? When did he fall asleep? And where is this? A hard blink or two to try and clear his head does nothing except exacerbate the dizzying lights blinking through his field of vision. Dark. It's dark, wherever this is. And also, that pounding sensation echoing through his head isn't just a headache.

There's someone here (wherever 'here' is) with him, pounding on something and shouting, the noise echoing through the cramped space and sending a rhythmic migraine thundering through his skull.

Maybe Abel is too occupied screaming for help to hear the irate noise coming from somewhere near his feet, where a teenager is scrunched up against the wall. Even if he manages to hear it and looks over, he's probably going to have a hard time making out anything, especially with the way Gen's black clothes blend in with the closet's darkness. But either way, that sure is the only warning he's going to get before Gen snarls and lashes out with a hard kick towards the source of all that commotion (read: Abel's calf), thoughtlessly just trying to get it to shut up.

Which, y'know, may not be the smartest move when you're two people trapped in a closet, but some lessons have to be learned the hard way! ]

ii

[mistersquirrels]

[He is entirely too sleepy for this but somehow stumbling into the midst of an active crime scene has woken him up, just a little. Or it's the coffee.

It's probably the coffee.

Eric stares, eyes wide, as he watches the perpetrator just steal an éclair from some poor soul. He takes a very loud slurp of his cup of coffee before taking a very long, deep breath, and pointing a finger at him aggressively.]

Dessert thief!

thorin oakenshield / tolkien

[khazad]

arrival;

[ These are not the halls of his forefathers.

Thorin can't explain it. He'd been laying in the snow, wounds numb as the light began fading from his eyes. He was saying his last goodbyes to Bilbo Baggins on a war-torn cliffside.

And then he was here, in an unrecognizable room full of long tables and strange chairs and other items that were foreign to him. The wound in his chest was screaming again but he was on his feet, somehow, despite his fading strength. When a stranger touched his shoulder he found enough of that strength to swing a fist at them and knock them away. There were two of them — humans, oddly dressed. Saying something about medical attention, he thinks, but he barely listened.

And that brings us to the present, with Thorin backed into a corner and brandishing a dagger with one arm wrapped around his blood-soaked middle. There's blood on the floor at his feet as well — he knows he doesn't have long, but he won't die at the hands of these people.

(These people are medics, doing their best to talk him down from a safe distance.)

When another person rounds the corner, Thorin's eyes flick to them but he dares not move. ]

You! Stay back. I will kill you if I must.

toying with you;, or too reminiscent of canon

[ Thorin barely pays the toys any mind at first — he's focused on finding a way out of this place, and has time for little else. But eventually, one catches his eye. It's a small wooden horse, hand-carved and not unlike something he might have had as a child. There's a glimmering stone set in its forehead like a star, iridescent and opaline and precious.

He pockets the horse for nothing more than a memento. At least at first.

As time goes on he begins to realize just how wonderful this thing is and how the others must covet it! But it's his. Only his.

Not to be taken. Not to be touched. Not to be so much as gazed upon by these fools.

(Somewhere in the back of his mind he knows this is wrong, and that he's done this before, and that nothing good comes of such greed and anger and yet!)

And yet —

He sequesters himself away for the most part but ever so often he ventures out in search of more fine things like the little horse with the precious stone. Today he thinks he's found another, high up in a tree and far beyond his reach. He thinks he can climb it but the crackling of leaves behind him has him spinning around with a wild look before he can try. ]

You are here for it, are you not? Do not bother lying to me. I can see it in your eyes.

wildcard

[ aaahhh hi, im up for anything. feel free to pm me if you want! ]

arrival

[sorser]

[Word travels fast at ADI, and even more so to Stephen Strange’s ears when he’s needed. Or at the very least, having been called over from the medical department because, as he was told, one of the new arrivals was putting up… something of a fuss.

When Stephen rounds the corner, he spots a short-statured man with a very impressive beard brandishing a dagger at everyone in the room. He frowns, stopping in place, holding his hands up in a placating way.]

Woah, calm down. I know this is all very confusing, but everyone here? We want to help you. I’m a doctor. Besides…

[He gestures at the stranger’s injury, soaked with blood. More than a little worrisome.]

That looks pretty bad. Are you sure you want to waste time arguing about this?

toying with you

[graveyounglady]

[Mercy freezes, feeling not unlike a child with her hand in the honey pot. She's pretty sure no one has taken issue with her collecting mushrooms and berries in Dogtown before, but this man seems... distinctly upset about it.]

I-I was gonna share, sir! I didn't take no more'n anyone else would.

[She clutches the haversack she's holding closer. She's a tall young woman with what would be an archaic dress to most in the modern world, and a white cloth tied over her head.]

Tony Stark ⌬ MCU

[fightinginfinity]

➥ Arrival

[ There might be something deeply poetic about the prospect of dying by the hand of the very thing that has haunted your nightmares and sent you spiraling into daily debilitating panic attacks for the last few years of your life, Tony thinks, in a Nightmare-on-Elm-Street kind of way. Maybe. More than anything he just thinks it’s fucking rude, though, and he hates poetry, so that’s that on that train of thought.

Speaking of thoughts, those are coming less and less frequently now as his wasting body slumps, facing the window, in the chair of a drifting spaceship in the middle of god-knows-fucking-where in space. His mind is uncharacteristically quiet as his eyelids get heavier and heavier, struggling against the pull of sleep and forever and at least it won’t hurt anymore. Nothing more profound than that crosses his mind in what are more than likely his final moments, but then, there’s nothing glamorous about starving to death and running out of oxygen at the same time while a fucking half-mechanical blue alien watches solemnly from a respectable distance.

For a second, it’s over. Then Tony is jolted awake suddenly and terrifyingly and the first thing he notices is that it’s not dark anymore--it’s blindingly white, actually, but not in the nice welcoming ‘light at the end of the tunnel’ kind of way. It’s more like the ‘overhead lights that shine in your eyes when you’re getting a root canal’ kind of way--and Tony realizes pretty quickly that he can’t be dead, because 1. surely the afterlife would be free of dentists and 2. you can’t feel pain when you’re dead, and he’s in a world of hurt right now. ]

What the hell-- [ He sits up--or tries to, at least, battling valiantly against both the medical professionals(?) working on him and his frail, emaciated body. His eyes, bloodshot and terrified, scan the room in a frenzy of movement and land on the first person he sees who isn’t wearing a white coat and a medical mask. ]

You-- Stop. Look at me. Hey! [ He speaks as loudly as he can over the fuss of movement around him, over the terrifying strangers trying their damnedest to either restrain him or prevent him from grievously injuring himself any further. (It’s probably both) ] Where the hell is this?

➥ Haunting Tunes

(( ooc; tw for mentions of drug abuse ))

[ Look, Tony was in terrible shape when he got here. It’s still probably gonna be a while until he’s in full health again, and his version of ‘full health’ isn’t the greatest to begin with--so when the mysterious tunes start up and people start dropping like flies all over town, Tony is hit particularly hard by it.

The lucky thing is, he is a fucking pro at staying the fuck awake.

There had been uncountable nights in Tony’s life (especially in college, and especially post-New York) that he’d spent in a state so fundamentally sleep-deprived and pumped up on stimulants that things had looped completely around and he’d knock out 72 hours straight perfecting a project that would take a sane and reasonable non-genius person months to even conceptualize. It was terrible for his heart, JARVIS would tell him over and over, and Tony would fire back that his heart was literally running on batteries anyway, at least until that excuse no longer worked.

So yeah, he’s good at this shit. Slight snafu though, as he doesn’t really know what this shithole has by way of substances of the wakey-wakey variety (which is probably the most roundabout and childish way of describing an Adderall-and-Monster cocktail he’s ever come up with) and where he’d find them, other than the classic coffee-and-cigarettes combo. So that’s what he starts with, standing outside a local coffee house, alternating between his fourth double espresso and a stick of chemicals he hadn’t put in his body since the financial crash of 2008 came and went.

Tony usually isn’t the small-talk-casually-with-strangers type (because most people bore the shit out of him, quite frankly), but he’s trying not to pass out here, so he might engage someone in conversation anyway. He pushes air through his teeth, shifting around, jittery as fuck despite the darkening circles around his eyes. ]

You know, I used to be in the kind of living situation where there’d be a pile of cocaine on the nearest coffee table at every social function I went to. Kind of miss it right now.

(( ooc; Here comes the boiii. I'm new around these parts, just throwing spaghetti at the wall to see what sticks! Hit me up at DontAskAlice for questions or threading or plotting or whatnot. ))

Arrival

[sorser]

[It’s a busy day over at ADI medical.

Stephen sometimes wonders if there’s greater meaning in the fact that so many newcomers arrive with injuries — some minor, a wound that needs cleaning and maybe a stitch or two; other grievous, that sends the whole medical staff into a harried, clockwork process of stabilizing vital signs, or tightening tourniquets, or somehow wrenching life free from death latching on as it brushes by.

Conflict, maybe, is the shared point between them. Proof of it on battered bodies and broken bones. Maybe this world chooses all the troublemakers, or all the fighters, the heroes and the villains, to litter its ranks to keep things interesting. But it’s a rumination for another time — theorizing is all but upended when a dead man ends up at ADI’s proverbial doorstep.

Stephen’s speechless at first, his mind whirling, straining to understand how it’s possible — timelines gone askew? Alternate versions? A man who shares the same face, but nothing else? Yet he’s pulled into the whirlwind of priority moments later, falling back into the regimen of what needs to be done like a cog slotting into a machine. Tend to this man—god, it really is Tony Stark—assess his vitals, treat it like its own microcosm of triage. Get him on an IV drip, monitor him quickly, frequently.

Time marches forward, gone in an instant. Nearly as soon as they’re out of the woods, consciousness returns to Tony’s face, lighting up his eyes in alarm. Stephen watches as the rest unfolds: the man making a scene, causing a fuss, because of course he does. He can’t blame him, given the circumstances.]

Yank that IV out and I’ll be the one to put it back in. Believe me, you don’t want that.

[Not with these hands. Still, his voice is loud enough to call out over the ruckus, approaching Tony with a gloved hand on a shoulder, pushing him back down into a seated position.]

Stark, I need you to calm down. Right now. Focus on me.

[Up in the air how helpful that is. Stephen’s not dressed in the usual “wizard’s” get-up, donned in scrubs and surgical gloves. Then again, his sorcerer’s regalia isn’t exactly standard fare in a medical setting. There’s also the very odd fact that he’s standing here at all, very solid, very real.]