October Test Drive Meme!

[reddosmod]

OCTOBER 2022 TDM

Another month, another test drive meme! Our test drive memes are open to anyone interested - regardless of whether or not you join our game!

All Test Drive Memes are game canon. Players can choose to keep their TDM threads canon or not. TDM threads can be used for AC and can be used as your writing sample for your application.

Our TDMs serve as a way to build into the actual lore and worldbuilding of Deer Country and we strongly encourage everyone to enjoy and participate! Current players are always welcome to pull prompts from the TDM to reference on the Network or bring into logs as well as tag out to new characters top-leveling on the TDM itself.

Characters will always be able to actively die during TDMs as this is an extremely dangerous world. You can still have this be game canon! Check out how character death in Deer Country works here.

If you have any questions about the TDM, please ask down below!

IMAGE DESCRIPTORS IN ORDER OF APPEARANCE
Prompt One
[Image One: A snowy, rocky beach in winter. ]
[Image Two: Bowls of mushroom soup and bread. ]

Prompt Two
[Image One: Dali painting of the moon as a city]
[Image Two: Twisted, warped cityscape]

Prompt Three
[Image One: Monster choking a sleeping person to death]
[Image Two: Death hovering over a sleeping person]

BONUS PROMPT
[Image One: Liminal Space image of a nondescript room with strange ledges]
[Image Two: Cenobite woman with borg-like attachments to her face]

[NAVIGATION]

TDM Questions • Reserves • Taken • Applications • Full Navigation

[Jump to Comments]

STANDARD ARRIVAL

WHEN: First Week of NOvember
WHERE: The Farther Shores/The Boardwalk, Koz's Orphanage
CONTENT WARNINGS: N/A

---

You're one of the lucky ones. Your journey is smooth sailing and you wind up exactly where you're supposed to: on the Farther Shores. You grow out of your squid body without a hitch, either with the help of another Sleeper or one of the Wakers, and you get to discover this new world. All new Sleepers might take some time to find their bearings. It might be tricky to remember how to use your body parts the way you're supposed to. You might stumble around the beach or forget how to talk - but don't worry! It'll come back to you sooner or later.

Hopefully, you've found something to wear, either in your Welcoming Bag or otherwise, and can start familiarizing yourself with your surroundings. Maybe you help some other squids out on the beach. Waking up sucks! You feel for the little guys. And hey, maybe you're hoping one of those squids is a good friend...Stranger things have happened.

SEASONAL DETAILS ON THE BOARDWALK
This is not the greatest month to wash up on the Farther Shores. It's November and you'll pretty much immediately hate it! The waters are frigid but not quite frozen yet, but that won't make your arrival any less uncomfortable. Thankfully the Boardwalk seems well-stocked with heavy blankets and furs to give to newly awakened Sleepers. Barrels of hot chocolate and hot alcoholic cider are readily available to warm people up. There are several stalls selling hearty soups willed with mushrooms, potatoes, beans, and other filling components.

Fresh baked bread and pastries are sold on wax paper. Enjoy a steaming cinnamon roll or croissant or just your standard bread and butter. Many bakers have set up temporary stoves and seem to invite teaching Sleepers how to cook and prepare bread and pastries. Maybe knead some dough, learn some tricks of the trade. If you help out ab baker, they might even thank you with a sack of flour or other ingredients for bread!

Like last year, as the Moon shifts to Bone, whispers and hushed talk begins anew among the Trenchies about The Tower. There are whispers that something feels wrong. "You know Trench is his body, right?" one might say. "But look at what's been happening. Is everything alright?" There is nervousness, agitation. Trenchies can't seem to put a finger on it. One of the old fishermen mutters under his or her breath if overheard in this time. "Long time since we tried to leave the Tower's shield. Hope didn't bring anything back from out there. World's a strange place."

None of them seem to have anything specific to add. They just seem nervous for some reason.

[JUMP TO TOP] • [JUMP TO COMMENTS]

IMAGE OF THE SELF

WHEN: Halloween through all November
WHERE: All of Trench
CONTENT WARNINGS: Distorted Reality, horrifying cityscape images, mounting paranoia, displacement

---

"They say that Trench is the body of the Tower." It is a saying so often repeated during the Bone Moon season that it becomes more of a mantra. Whether or not it is actually true remains a hotly contested debate between Arcane Scholars and Disciples, one of the few times that neither side fully agrees even with themselves. Yet, if it is true, what happens if the person whose body serves as a city begins to have an identity crisis of sorts? That certainly seems to be the case this month.

At random times, it just happens. You're walking from one place to another with your friend. You just stepped out of a lantern network teleportation circle. You open a door. Suddenly, everything is just wrong. It feels like you are in a surrealist's nightmare. Walls appear to be bleeding concrete in all directions. Stairwells twist impossibly, as if M. C. Escher himself were the architect. The pathway to where you intended to go warps and transforms itself into a perilous, twisted monstrosity that you have to navigate. Worse? The way you got here is just gone behind you, leaving you only the path forward.

Navigating this isn't impossible, but you will definitely need help. It might be that one has to stand on another's shoulders to get over an obstacle and then help them up. Maybe someone very small has to crawl into an opening to reach the door handle so the way through can be found. It varies, and the effect lasts only as long as it takes to get where you're going, but while you're here the reality continues to shift and some of these twistings could easily crush you! Don't tarry too long!

NOTE: The physical danger here is from environmental hazards. Feel free to choose any you like, but they will all return to normal when your character reaches their intended destination. Trenchies know nothing about this, though if one asks one of the former wastes, they will ward themselves as if against evil. They know something, but they dare not speak and will whisper hurriedly that the sleeper had best not talk too openly about this. "Best not to draw attention right now."

[JUMP TO TOP] • [JUMP TO COMMENTS]

A GOOD NIGHT'S SLEEP

WHEN: Last Week of October through the first week of November
WHERE: At Home, in your bed
CONTENT WARNINGS: Severe Insomnia, Sleep Deprivation, Deprivation induced hallucinations and mood swings

---

Something is clawing at your mind from the moment that the first signs of the cold coming. You can't put your finger on it, but even as you see the people of Trench preparing for the next month's arrival of sleepers, you can see they feel it too. Something claws at the mind and for a few people in Trench, this becomes a very literal problem. The thoughts are so overwhelming that you can't manage to find a good night's sleep. This problem is especially prominent for new Sleepers, who seem prone to arriving with terrible bouts of unexplainable insomnia.

That sounds simple enough to deal with, right? Perhaps some sort of sleep aid, or working oneself to exhaustion, and you can power through it, right? No. Nothing seems to work at first. Searches for a monster are futile. Warding and incense seem utterly ineffective, and no matter how hard you try, night after night you cannot sleep. You are terrified of falling asleep. If you fall asleep, you may never wake up! Even characters who do not fear a mortal death feel themselves compelled by this, and the longer that they do not sleep the more corruption risks them at its door. A night or two missed is one thing, but eventually irascibility sets in. Hallucinations may eventually start to crop up. The body needs REM sleep. It needs dreams, yet the horror that threatens the person will not allow them to sleep, for fear that it will come for them while they sleep. What 'it' is, they do not know.

There is only one solution. For those who already spend time with others? This is a simple thing, but they must still agree to do it. You can solve this curse only if you do not sleep alone. Another must stay awake for the vigil through the whole night. Simple enough given their insomnia, but they will be assailed by their own horrific lack of slumber. Only, after you have had a good night's sleep, be sure to care for the other who was so kind to you. Why? Because anyone so unkind as to not help their erstwhile companion sleep after they have finally gotten rest will find out that those fears were not unfounded and the next time they sleep, they really do not wake up!

Death, in this rare case, comes in the form of a heart attack. Its source is unknown, and all that the sleeper will remember is the worst nightmare of their life as they lay in bed, dying in soundless screams. So, be sure to take care of each other, sleepers!

[JUMP TO TOP] • [JUMP TO COMMENTS]

THE VEINS OF THE TOWER

WHEN: November 1st (And only November 1st)
WHERE: Beginning anywhere, ending in A Nightmarish Place
CONTENT WARNINGS: Liminal Space, Disorientation, Hints of horrible monsters, Possible Death, Insane Zealotry, Mutilated Bodies

---

Rumors have lingered since the first encounters two months ago of a 'space between spaces' that people could accidentally fall into that this occurrence has not been entirely limited to the month it first happened in. Every once in a while, on unusual days, it has happened since that time. There appears to be little rhyme or reason to it, but it has happened again. Maybe you took an accidental step backwards. Or maybe you were crazy enough to have identified some spot you disappeared before and you were actually experimenting with the effect every day to see when it happened. You know, to chronicle the dates it happen, to keep a record, to understand it better, all of those sorts of things that cause some sleepers to poke things that are Better Left Alone because that's what some sleepers do with their free time, and then they touch the spot with something and suddenly they and everything around them are sucked in. How you got there is not important. You're here now, wherever here is.

Only this time its different. You're not in the spot you were last time, and in the distance you can hear shuffling of feet. Dread enters your heart, as you know that you do not have the means to fight whatever it is. You have an overwhelming urge to run, to flee at top speed. You and whoever is "lucky" enough to be with you must run as fast as you can, around corners, a roaring, inhuman scream echoing through the hallways, slamming into walls. You can't quite see it, not unless you want a swift, awful death at least. But around a corner there is salvation, an elevator shaft and the door is open. Frantic scrambling, running and jabbing buttons will cause the doors to close, just as something black like a giant hand grabs the far wall. You hear the rush, the scream. The elevator shudders three times as something pounds on it, but you're safe. Or, are you?

Instead of the usual moldy hallways, you see what looks like a hospital hallway. Anyone who lived through the nightmare may have awful flashbacks, but nothing is chasing you this time. The impossibly stretching hallway seems ceaselessly unchanging, each door locked, at least until you happen to notice a grate on one of the overhead air conditioners open wide. If you are curious enough to crawl up and into it, you're treated to a long scramble through the passageway, right up until you hear voices, menacing ones in the distance. Crawl quietly!

A grate emanating ugly, light is up ahead. As you and your companion work your way over, you're hopefully not heard. Through the grate, you see something awful. Two mutilated and disfigured figures speak while a third, calm and ordered looking woman listens. She seems to have mutilated her throat such that she should not be able to speak, and the other two appear have performed torturous experiments on their own flesh, their twisted visages that of the 'Zealots' that the Sleepers sometimes whisper about in fear. "It is almost time for the harvest. We made the quotas last cycle but only barely. The need is greater. Sacrifices must be made," one hisses. The other nods vigorously. "Yes. The situation is decaying. We have to move to stop this before it gets out of hand."

Before they can say more, however, the third woman looks up, directly at the grate. She smiles once, and a voice echoes from her throat as what appears to be a mouth inside of it moves, her own lips unmoving. "Continue this discussion later. It seems the problem has worsened. We will need to step up security in the meantime." She reaches out a hand and wrenches. The air shimmers around them and suddenly the duct you are traveling in collapses and breaks beneath you. Instead of falling into the farm, however, you find yourself falling through darkness for what seems an eternity, until you collapse hard to the pavement, in front of the entrance to the Gate, your breath coming back to you slowly, shakily.

NOTES: Death is possible should a sleeper assault the first creature. It is a being of impossible angles and blackness, is itself unkillable and will rend its victims to oblivion through brute force. Fighting the Zealots is not possible through this prompt. The grate cannot be opened in time to exit into the Sleeper Farm and engage them. However, the astute will be certain that there was for a moment an actual entry through and into the Sleeper Farm, somehow. Those familiar with these locations will recognize them as being Floor 1, the Stalls

[JUMP TO TOP]

CODING

Comments

Questions!

[reddosmod]

[acidjail]

May Sleepers be afflicted with the A Good Night's Sleep prompt more than once?

[unsheathedfromreality]

How would A Good Night's Sleep affect a Sleeper (lol) who conventionally can't/doesn't sleep? Do they need to find a way to sleep if they're afflicted with it, or are they immune to the insomnia effect?

If they're immune, can they keep watch for other people without the other person having to watch over them or does the heart attack death trigger if they don't at least feign sleep for the other person to watch over?

[necrolord]

If a Sleeper who cannot be killed via mundane damage (John rapid-heals from all but soul-related effects, power-nerfing effects, or total obliteration) gets shredded by the Backrooms creature, can they get stuck there getting ripped apart over and over, or is this a death that overrides Sleeper powers?

Re: Questions!

[martyrofduty]

How does A Good Night's Sleep affect characters who usually sleep during the day? (natural for them)

[tempredmental]

Can sleep watching be paid forward? Like, if a group of several sleepers got together and took shifts watching over the group in a kind of round robin style, would that fulfill the requirement?

makima | chainsaw man | darkblood

[overlies]

STANDARD ARRIVAL

[ one of three things happens here: either you’re alone on the boardwalk looking like you could really use the company (quite literally! perhaps you’re dislocated, trying to fit in or just attempting to nab a drink but augh this line), and behold— company strides toward you. the red-haired woman with hypnotic eyes bares the quaintest of smiles, practiced and perfected to almost an uncanny, political charm. she hands forth a wooden mug in your hands and adds: ]

Careful— It’s pretty hot.

[ perhaps you’re still on the frigid shores as a sleeper squid. or, half a sleeper squid. after understanding what these all were, makima goes for a small barefoot walk in the sand. these poor things. she doesn’t quite scoop any of them up, but watches with piqued, peculiar interest as grimy, slurping tentacles become arms, skin, even a face. funny how they all reformed that way— but this is all new to her, for once. she’s going to be interested, specifically on the whats behind the new enigma. for now, she inhales deep (to get a good whiff, actually, masked as a preparatory breath) before she bends at the waist and regards the forming sleeper. ]

Hello, there.

[ lastly, just about anyone could find the mysteriously pleasant woman in the archives with a peculiar schedule through the entirety of the month: she comes in, takes a book from the very first shelf in its particular order, sits down, fixes her posture perfectly— and reads. sharply timed breaks for food, water and stretches hit their mark at the exact same moment each day. almost methodically, she sits back in her seat and reads the next book. and the next. and the next.

she’s literally reading the entire archive, and while a near impossible feat, she’s doing it. occasionally, she crosses her legs, takes on the pose of one enjoying their time at a café. she pretends not to notice those who notice her, but when she decides a finally timed interruption would do . . . her eyes travel up seamlessly from her literature and land on you. with her cheek rested in her palm and propping her face up, she smiles— and she maintains eye contact in a way that surely reads come here 🙂. ]

IMAGE OF THE SELF

Hmm.

[ the world is on its head. and sideways. and folded. up is down and down is sideways, in a neverending loop of twists and turns. stairs lead into walls which become floors at an angle— it’s confusing, surely, and hell if it gave them too much time to think on it. the tower was shifting yet again, so with a bit of a sigh that somehow feigns trouble, makima puts her hands behind her back and swings her hips. ]

They say The Tower is Trench itself. Would that mean it’s changing it’s image—?

[ she’s incredibly curious about the tower. ]

Let’s start somewhere.

A GOOD NIGHT’S SLEEP

[ makima would know when something was amiss. to have control from her hands put elsewhere is like waking up to one of your children missing. it’s off and immediately noticeable, but she doesn’t break into panic. the unease is there, but not shown. greater than that, where was control, now? a pthumerian? one of the many? her interest has skyrocketed when it comes to these beings, the only things to ever seem to have her whirling from brand new fast balls. she wants to meet them. she wants to take them down just to make sure her expectations weren’t skewed as they once terribly were.

for now, she’ll nibble around the edges and take her time. eagerness was a good boost to motivation, but quickness could lead to messiness. it could also lead to mishaps! and boredom. she would never. the problem before them, her and her sleeper companion (that’s you), was sleep. she comes with her own pillow and folded blanket, and asks, with a touch of fatigue but still on point smile of friendliness: ]

Make yourself comfortable, [ she gestures to her humble abode, only recently picked out but not at as much as a speck of dust on the Victorian furniture. it’s true that she was used to a life of luxury, but she was highly adaptable. ] now, who’s going to go first?

NETWORK (un: MAKIMA)

Hello, Trench Sleepers! Humor me with an opinion.

Who is your Patron Pthumerian, and why do you think so? What are they to you?

network; un: grollschwert

[hauntedsavior]

The Reckoning is mine. I know what my blessed day is, and it's not my birthday like a lot of other people. So I think I have a feeling why the Reckoning wanted me.

But she's a punk ass bitch who wouldn't know real justice if it bit her in her oversized ass.

image of the self

[acidjail]

[Woe pushes up from where she was crouched to brush her fingertips against a jutting spoke of rebar. She was never the psychometric expert, but if there is a trace of life or death to drag out of these particular structural bones, it is beyond her in the here and now.

She shakes her hand out with a grimace as architectural as their surroundings.]

Mutation and transformation are common here. Why not so for our ineffable hosts?

[Something they may have done purely to spite her, personally, or so her tone suggests. Much like this woman's idle coquetteishness may also be a slight, in some fashion Woe has yet to determine.]

Left, I think. Lead on.

Lan Xichen | Mo Dao Zu Shi (Novel) | Cold Blood

[baiyueguang]

I. Arrival - Waking Up (CW for brief nudity and indifference towards death)

[Lan Xichen picks himself up on leaden limbs, muscles aching like he just sprinted for miles. There's a precarious moment where he wobbles like a newborn foal, but he manages to stay vertical even as the world swims around him.

He takes in his surroundings once he manages to scrub the sand from his eyes, and his first thought is a simple

Ah.

His second thoughts are that this doesn't quite line up with what he's read about the afterlife, but it seems dismal enough that he supposes he must have died with enough weight upon his soul that some punishment would need to be meted out before he was tossed back into the cycle of death and rebirth. He hoped his next time around would merit a more pleasant existence.

Lan Xichen wonders what killed him; it must have been quick enough that he didn't even register dying (a small but perplexing mercy), and hopes whatever took him didn't hurt his uncle or the other elders. A small relief that Lan Wangji is off with his husband, as relatively safe and sound as those two could manage. He hopes they're well. He hopes they're all well.

He takes a few experimental steps forward as a breeze brushes past and he registers that there is a chill he barely feels and yet, some part of his hindbrain wonders Why is that?

A look down only adds to his confusion; he's naked save for a robe someone had seen fit to drape over him (and he quickly shrugs it on and ties it closed to preserve some modesty) and as far as he can tell, it's the brink of winter. Growing up in the mountains, he'd always had a tolerance for the cold, but this was on a whole different level.

His entire body was... indifferent to it.

Perhaps this is just what it's like to be dead? he thinks, gaze drifting out over the grey, icy waves.

When he spots a passerby out the corner of his eye, he snaps out of his bout of melancholy introspection, and waves them down.]

I beg your pardon, but I'm afraid I'm not sure where ...ah... this is...? I mean to say, I'm a bit lost.

II. Arrival - Exploration

[Trench is not like any city he's ever seen before; the architecture is strange, and everything has some manner of macabre edge that leaves him skeptical of claims that this isn't some manner of afterlife.

He explores first the boardwalk area as free food is given out to newcomers and veterans alike. Lan Xichen learns something new about himself today; he really likes cinnamon buns and is even more delighted to learn to make them (though his first attempts leave... a lot to be desired).]

[Later hours he spends walking the winding streets of Trench. He has no particular goal, no sense of urgency. There is nothing he can do at the moment to return home (if that is even possible) and so he takes his time to learn his surroundings.

It should not come as any surprise that he winds up lost.]

III. Image of the Self

[There's a saying about curiosity and cats that he may wish to familiarize himself with in the future. He'd only been stepping out from a small shop, holding the door for another behind him, when the whole world twists around them.

After the rush of vertigo, Lan Xichen manages to regain his footing quickly, but he can't help the sound of surprise he makes when he finally takes in the world around him.

It's like if the city had been turned inside-out, and then forced to spiral into itself ad infinium, bits of it melting up or down or to the sides with no clear rhyme or reason. The sight of it sucks at the eye, and Lan Xichen quickly averts his gaze, turning instead to the other dragged to this strange realm.

Are you hurt? Can you walk?

IV. Network (UN: FluteToot) / A Good Night's Sleep

[There is a man on screen, looking quite puzzled as he fiddles with the omni. He looks uncertain as his eyes dart from the camera to the screen and then to someone off screen.]

Is it...? ...Ah. Right, the little green light. Thank you for helping me set this up.

[He straightens his back, sitting up properly now and smiles; it's pleasant and serene, if somewhat bewildered.]

Er... hello. I am Lan Xichen.

[He inclines his head forward, the picture of politeness]

I've been informed that this is how other sleepers are able to communicate over great distances and coordinate plans over the many peculiarities of this place. One of which I believe I have been experiencing.

Has anyone else been hearing scratching noises at night? I'd thought at first it may be all in my head, but there is definitely a presence. I next thought it some manner of spirit, but the talismans I set up do nothing to ward it. If anyone knows anything about this phenomenon, I would greatly appreciate it. I do not think I have encountered anything like this before.

ii!

[poorlittlesange]

[It would be easy to miss the front gate of the siheyuan if one were not looking for it. Trench seems to draw its architectural influences from any number of cultures and time periods, and so this would not be the first pagoda-style arch to have cast a shadow over Lan Xichen during his wanderings. There's nothing particularly eye-catching or stylistically unique about it either, though the spirit-repelling talismans affixed to the door may seem familiar. Really familiar, actually. Jin Guangyao always did have beautiful penmanship.

From beyond the wooden gate, someone is idly plucking out familiar notes on a guqin.]

nie huaisang | mo dao zu shi (novel) | paleblood

[fanfavors]

I. the goof-ass one, on the beach

[Nie Huaisang is not a very adept swimmer, and so regaining consciousness with the rising of the tide isn't the most pleasant introduction he could have had, to this beach. In one moment he's something else, something that should be in the water, and what scant thought processes his squid-body possesses don't see any problem with it; and then in the next moment he's a whole person, with limbs and he is immediately flailing in the tide. Literally: he's not that good at swimming! He's not from a place with a lot of bodies of water around! He's thoroughly convinced, in his first minute in Trench, that he is drowning.

He is also shouting, so at least his lungs are still operating at capacity, although he warbles every other word around a mouthful of water: it's a lot of 'Help me!!' and, boldly and extra-warbly, 'Someone's left me in the water to drown!!'— that kind of thing.

So it's comical to witness, most likely, when he realizes he's only about waist deep and quietly rights himself, glancing this way and that to see if anyone has, ah, seen this...]

II. less goof-ass, boardwalk

[With his persistent dramatics, it's easy for Huaisang to get the attention of a Waker - or perhaps fellow Sleeper - to give him something dry to wear and then pile him high with furs to keep warm. He's just so cold, you see, he needs this many furs, and he spent only ten full minutes arranging them to look as good as possible - you know, for free pelts on the boardwalk. As long as no one comments on his hair, which he has only barely combed into passable with a borrowed wide-toothed comb that was woefully inadequate, he will be fine.

Just fine.

This is fine.

...It's not fine, and Huaisang's fussing over his appearance can distract him for only so long, so: he will excise all of his anxiety through his legs, instead. That is to say: he'll wander, first up and down the beach, collecting anything that looks interesting or pretty enough to him (is this yours? sorry), then along the boardwalk, where he turns his watery eyes and quivering lip on every food-seller who'll look at him long enough, to woe-is-me his way into a free bun here, a pastry there, one more cup of that hot chocolate, which is remarkable—

It's not, like, working to quell any of the very demanding concerns he has right now, but it's a step. Just enough that when he bumps into someone on his walk, he does not immediately burst into tears, but instead kind of - yelps? He yelps:]

I don't know!! What should I do?! I didn't see anyone!!! [hm.] —Ah. Wh-what did you say...?

[.....as an afterthought, he lifts a paper napkin to dab at the pastry creme he most definitely smushed onto this total stranger's clothes. Hi. Oops. Hey.]

III. distortion time

[Much later than his episode on the boardwalk, Huaisang has most importantly found his welcome back, and as such found something better to wear. He's also wandered straight into one of the surrealist hellscapes, something that visibly startles him— and then doesn't? Besides whatever's happned to the stairs in this building, he doesn't sense any particularly menacing threats, so that's - good!

This is a good situation to be in.

Besides the stairs, and he finds, the mirrors as well. He swears he's caught a glimpse of someone in his periphery a few times now, whether impossibly upside down relative to him or just a reflection, and eventually he simply stops his wandering with a sigh, hands on his hips.]

How am I supposed to find you if you're going to keep moving? [he says, to Whoever Is Out There. Come on, bud.] What kind of personality do you have, that wants to waste all this extra brainpower on getting around me? You win! Come out now!

[Please just come, he would like to get on with the puzzle, but he can't just say that. He's not dressed for more wandering in circles, let's go!!]

IV. misc (archives) (cw: horny drawings discussed)

[If there's something Huaisang should logically care about collecting in these circumstances, it's information. He knows this; the anxiety of his introduction to the city and his wild romp through staircase hell have been... mostly welcome distractions from the lurking shape of his grief, the vague panic over being here at all and being, in many ways (in his opinion) quite alone.

Those things, in turn, are making it hard to get any reading done. Not that he was incredibly inclined to do research on his new surroundings; no, that's boring. But he's hopelessly thrown himself on the mercy of enough locals to get him shuffled over to the Archives, where at the very least, his egregious loud complaints about his problems have been quieted. So. Here he is, sitting at a table, already bored of it mere minutes after someone sits him down with a book and a pad of paper and wishes him luck in his searching!

The problem is a thousandfold, but mostly: library research is dull, but his idle mind bends back around and around and around to the hole in his chest grieving his brother, and he hasn't yet found a good enough long-term distraction from all that.

Luckily (for Huaisang) this book has illustrations, and the pieces from the pad of paper are just translucent enough that he can trace them. A few pieces are already arranged in a sort of desk-note-panorama, in front of him on the table: a lovely landscape sketched in pencil, with a few elaborately detailed trees and birds in flight. As for the traced illustrations from the book (some kind of historical account?), well. He's making them pornographic.

Those aren't part of the landscape. This is fine. Please try not to bump his elbow and make this guy's dick zoom off the side of the page.]

V. wildcard

[let's do it baby. pm with questions. nhs is from mid-novel, if that means anything for your purposes.]

IV!

[baiyueguang]

[Nie Huaisang isn't the only one who's turned to the library for answers; though the diligent First Jade of Lan is a bit less inclined towards more creative revisions of Trench's history, and is, in fact, about to return the books to the desk as the librarian had asked (he's so very good at following rules).

It is when he spots a familiar silhouette out the corner of his eye that his head swivels in a doubletake and he very nearly drops his books.

No, he thinks. It can't be.

Oh, but it is.]

...When...?

[His mouth is moving around something that might be a complete sentence, but the only other thing he manages to get out is:]

...How...?!

Taro Watanabe | OC | Paleblood

[hachitaro]

I - Arrival

The squid flops weakly onto the shore, a set of deep red gashes slowly healing on its body. It disintegrates into sand like the others, but seems to struggle to keep its form. First it's small, then it's human-shaped, then it's the size of a dog - then a bear?

Whatever's going on, it's clear that there's someone that needs help. Perhaps a kind Waker or another Sleeper can coax him into his true shape - and hopefully keep quiet about it, once the Sleeper is in his right mind enough to ask for that.


II - Boardwalk

Taro - now in human form (rather than squid or kid tanuki) - starts exploring the boardwalk. He's been to many of these all over America - from Seattle to Atlantic City, Honolulu to Miami. This one... well, it's a little sad, but he doesn't seem to mind, a bright smile on his face as he stops by the stalls.

Bread? He can make bread. He helps out one baker, and the next leans over and demands he come help. He's no artisan, but he's good with his hands. Very good, if the shape of the loaves he makes is any indication. Either find him in the middle of kneading something or while carrying a large sack of flour.

What's he going to do with this? He doesn't even have a place to stay. If someone's staring he'll just shrug. "... Do you want this?"


III - Comms

user name: 008

so i gotta ask

are these 'gods' like... real? are they a Problem with a capital P? its really hard to tell since this is another world

and parallel worlds and yadda yadda, you get it. things dont work the same.

do we need to make a spreadsheet of 'poomerian good y/n'? if so im not doing it i hate spreadsheets

theres a reason i dont do office work

also if anyones having sleeping problems and they want a companion hmu especially if youre cute.

[Ladies.]


IV - Wildcard!

[Got another idea? Hit me up here.]

[Text][UN:A_Wesker013]

[subject_013]

I wouldn't call them 'gods', though one could compare them to the Elder Gods in some classic cosmic horror tales: more advanced aliens than gods per se. But yes, they are real.

And it's a bit more complicated than 'X Pthurmerian Good'/'Y Pthumerian bad'. They work more like forces of nature than like forces of morality. For that matter, morality is never that simple, even among simple creatures such as humans. The hero in the story may be the villain to another character in the tale.

Uchiha Itachi | Naruto | Coldblood

[jikogisei]

i. standard arrival
[ cw: mentions of past death, illness, eye trauma, nudity ]

[ This reawakening is nothing like the last one, that was clean and purposeful, someone manipulating the strings that pulled his soul back among the living. He and many others had been brought back to pad out the other side of a large-scale war, used against former friends and enemies to allow one side the opportunity to do what they needed. That body had been frail, brittle like paper that could be torn apart and put back together in an instant - immortal soldiers to do someone else's bidding. He remembers that much clearly enough.

Just as he remembers the deaths that surrounded his first and second lives he'd had. One weighed down by illness and a loss of vision that had been pushed beyond its limits, the eyes he had been born with taken out and gifted to his brother upon his first death. There had been the heaviness of a death rattle in his chest for such a long time, one that didn't follow him to his temporary resurrection. Other than his state of reanimation, everything had been in perfect shape during that short period - up until he had sacrificed the light of his left eye to try to save one final person.

This is why he takes stock after shedding the squid form for something closer to his original shape, he has to take stock of his own body while just laying face up on the sand. The sharp chill invades deep into his chest, painful in its own way that he hasn't felt in a very long time. Pinpricks spread over his nude body as water begins to sting now that he's without the natural immunity his squid body had while in the water. It's something, more than his reanimated form felt.

He turns his head, opening his eyes and seeing the sand stretched out around him - other people in various states moving about. So, he has his eyes here, and the vision in them isn't bad. The left one blurs things in the distance after about fifty feet, but much better than being completely blind. It'll be an adjustment to make up for the imbalance in his vision. ]

How many chances does a man get?

[ Just leave him there for a while. ]

ii. boardwalk

[ After dawning the new robe, Itachi makes his way to the boardwalk to accept one of the furs. Along with an alcoholic cider and a hearty soup to help chase the chill from his bones. He wanders the stalls, looking on in interest, while also covertly absorbing any information being openly spoken about. Some talk in hushed voices about The Tower, that this place is his body, and what happened when someone left it.

When the information dries up, he moves on easily. Blending into the crowd and appearing as though he's just anybody. There's a sense of nervousness among the natives, but all of the intel on the matter remains the same - murmurs of the same being.

He gets himself a pastry and moves to the railing of the boardwalk, half watching the people moving about and keeping an eye on the water. What is his purpose here? This life beyond what he's already lived has nothing to do with his village, and even if it does, Itachi has already passed its protection off to others. His brother is a more complicated matter, someone who has already surpassed him. Perhaps this is his very own Izanami.

From his spot away from the crowd, he catches sight of someone who appears to have on too little or is eyeing something to eat. Either his own fur or pastry is being held out to them. ]

Here, take this. You need it more than I.

[ There is the smallest hint of a smile on his face, a tiny upward curve to his lips to give him a more friendly appearance. He's no longer part of the Akatsuki, so he can simply be himself here. ]

iii. image of the self

[ Once upon a time, Itachi would have used his sharigan to excess. Expecting danger around nearly every corner and tree. This place may not be any safer than his own world, but there are fewer here that want him dead or are interested in hunting him down for being a rogue ninja. His guard isn't completely down, which is why he notices the change in location instantly. ]

Not a genjutsu. [ A teleportation jutsu? The ninja watches the walls around him bleed gray ooze, stepping around it easily to not get trapped in it. Already he knows the path behind him isn't open, his senses heightening to any signs of trouble or life. ]

Let's keep moving. [ Spoken to the other person here with him, whether they ended up in the same place or further in. ] Stay close to me.

[ Maybe he knows them, maybe he doesn't - either way, Itachi will help them get out of here. ]

iv. veins of the tower

[ Another teleportion jutsu, maybe he should walk around with the sharigon active - at least until this pesky month passes and this stops happening. This is different, and the red flares to life as something moves in the distance, his sense for danger on the alert. Something dangerous lurks in the hallways, and this is no place to try to stand his ground. A majority of his attacks will be limited by the space and too wild to use without posing danger to those at his side.

Without taking his eyes from where danger lurks, he says a single word. ]

Run. [ When they do, Itachi will be right on their heels - provided they're actually running away from whatever is screaming. He'll make sure that they won't fall or trip over their own feet as they head for the nearest way out. ]

v. network; text; un: karasu

What would you do with your second or third opportunity at life? Especially if you were satisfied how your last life ended in terms of your matters being settled. I find myself in this situation after having died twice, now no longer needed for the duties I was tasked with many years ago.

vi. wildcard

[ Tsukeru | Xae#7866 (I already go here, so feel free to add or find me in the discord server). ]

v. text; un: rider

[kaientai]

Interesting! We're basically in the same sorta situation.

It's not something I've found an answer for myself yet, but I guess there's nothing but time to figure it out. I suppose some people would probably say third time's the charm and maybe it's time to do your own thing, but hehe... easier said than done, am I right?

Light Yagami | Death Note | Darkblood

[worldcleansing]

ARRIVAL
[ Consciousness as he knows it moves in waves and the idea of his former self seems just out of reach. Malleable flesh takes shape as limbs grow at a pace forced by a strong will to be more. The deeper understanding that comes with this world stops him from hating this form, but Light Yagami doesn't intend to settle for less than his old body. Newly formed legs don't move as they should but that doesn't take long. Concentrated effort gives him the ability to walk and soon, he's in a better position to explore his new surroundings while dressed in a dark robe. With a bit of luck on his side, Light finds that his journal explains the situation a little more. ]

a. sealegs

[ It's frustrating to find his steps uneven, but Light knows it won't improve unless he practices. His initial steps happen when he's alone but once his confidence returns, it's time to leave his small space and move toward the other bodies gathering on the beach. With the ability to walk comes a sense of control that was missing when his own feet seemed unwilling to obey him...

Until the same feet again fail. A flash of annoyance shoots through his body as his knee bends, forcing him to reach out to brace himself against the nearest object. An object that happens to be a person. For someone who's always worked to assure full command of his body, it's embarrassing to suddenly find his hand gripping someone to keep upright.

Luckily, he manages a laugh. The situation will only seem awkward if it comes from him. ]

I used to know how to use these. Sorry. The sand doesn't make it any easier when learning to walk again.

[ He shouldn't have to learn to walk again. That was something mastered years ago. ]

b. recovery

[ With time and practice, everything moves as it should. Before the day is over, Light has graduated to helping the others as they try and move through the same process. While he never intended to be a cook himself, the stalls seem a good way to earn goods as well as gain familiarity with some faces. Light is new to this world, alone and without allies. Confidence keeps the situation from being worrisome, but there's a reason it's usually unwise for man to work in isolation. Alliances are usually an important component of success. It's that reasoning that has a man who assumed he'd never be a cook kneading dough and creating small snacks that he can then offer to those gaining their forms. ]

Don't move too quickly.

[ Seeing another newcomer struggling, he arrives with the bread as an afterthought. ]

The sand isn't as much of a cushion as you'd hope if you fall.

[ Or perhaps someone more familiar with the world comes by the stall to get a snack while taking a break from playing hero. They earn a bit more focus for being a possible source of information. With a small chuckle, he passes over the newly baked bread. ]

Remember that it's free.

[ The modesty is only slightly false. It's not the same quality as the baker who's showing Light how it's made, but it's entirely edible. ]

IMAGE OF THE SELF
[ A hall becomes pavement as the door closes behind him. As quickly as a blink, the world twists and transforms into something dark and shadowed. Fog obscures the way before him, but a quick glance confirms the doorway is replaced by even more dense fog. In the distance, he can hear footsteps, but it's impossible to know if it's friend or foe. Calling out would be too careless so instead, Light pushes forward into the suffocating fog until the outline of a figure becomes a bit more clear. A little more distance and he can confirm it's another person. ]

Hello?

[ The appearance of someone else doesn't guarantee safety so he keeps some distance. Is the figure even real? ]

A GOOD NIGHT'S SLEEP
[ As addicted to work as he may be, Light knows the importance of regular sleep. A mind stretched beyond its limits is weakened by fatigue, not strengthened. Yet, medicines and teas fail him. A day passes and then two. By the third, he's even more tired than he should be. Limbs feel heavy and each thought feels sluggish and delayed. While he's managed to hide the effects, it won't last forever.

It happens when he's walking home, a small bag of supplies in his hand. The tickling sensation is odd enough to earn his attention and when Light looks down, long, thin fingers crawl from the bag to grab at his wrist. In a momentary lack of judgment, he tosses the bag forward, causing it to hit a passerby. ]

Don't touch it!

[ As uncharacteristic as it may be, lack of sleep and the look of a Shinigami hand create a panic that betrays his fear. ]

for L; halloween

[worldcleansing]

[ Adaptability is crucial when the world around you changes. In less than a week, Light manages to find a home that needs only a few repairs. The bartering system is easy for someone with the right social skills, and his practice of blood magic is going well. While it's hardly a life comparable to the one he had before, it's considerably more achieved than the blob that washed ashore.

He's lived on his own, with Misa, for years now so that much isn't a change. Gone is the boy who depended on his parents for food and shelter, and in his place is a man capable of caring for himself. Regular trips to the market keep his home well-stocked and give him the chance to familiarize himself with the city.

One face isn't meant to be so familiar.

It's impossible to mistake the dark, hooded eyes and shock of black hair. No matter the change in clothing, Light knows L the moment their eyes lock. The world around him fades as capable legs suddenly become incapable of moving. In an instant, the past few years rewind, and L's in his arms again, his weight too light for a grown man. Rewind becomes fast forward as the sense of boredom and buried regret struggle to overcome pride and the voice that reminds him that all of it was necessary for Kira. He'd won. He regretted winning. He would have regretted losing more.

Is it another hallucination? It's telling that Light doesn't question the possibility of hallucinating L; they were too linked for too long. Even after the detective took his last breath, he never left Light's life. Late nights at the office or in front of a monitor would sometimes leave a treacherous voice to whisper in his ear. What would life be like if L was alive? As he graduated from college and gained ranks in the NPA, as wars around the world stopped, none of it was able to break through the thick layer of boredom that returned once L's body was in the ground. It was fine, he reminded himself. Kira was a calling, a need to fix a rotten world, not a hobby to occupy his time.

All the time in the world has passed, but it's barely a fraction of a second before Light's able to take a single step forward, almost terrified that the figure will disappear. ]

L?

[ Is it so wrong to wish the phantom to be real? He isn't Kira here. Wanting the return of his greatest obstacle doesn't threaten the needs of the world. What does it mean if L answers? If it's not fake? Does he remember how he met his end? The very existence of somebody who knows him as Kira is dangerous, but that can be a problem later. For just a few moments, he's looking into the endless eyes of the only man who managed to make him engage in the world. ]

Mahito | Jujutsu Kaisen | Vileblood

[muitenpen]

[1] Arrival - Shore (cw: mild body horror and npc death)

[To be somewhere so dark and so wet, it almost makes sense, for a moment. Until it's cold, as well. Unfamiliar, but somehow not at all unwelcome. There's a recognition that it's death, and yet a certainty that it can't be. After all, for cursed spirits, there's change in rebirth. The meaning stays the same, but the soul...

The soul should take a new form, so how is it that the shape he settles back into is so nearly the same one he's always known?

To those who may be watching for new Sleepers, it's at first a young child that breaks through the shallow water's surface near to shore-- and far too calmly reaches to grab and kill the creature nearest to him. One less newcomer, but more importantly a test, and a successful one at that. If he's not lacking energy, the problem must be more like that haze humans feel on waking up. So with a little more focus...

Muscle appears to shift beneath skin as one final step to the process returns Mahito to his usual adult form. Yet on looking over the rest of his surroundings, he offers the first Waker to meet his eyes an almost innocent smile that already betrays the change.]

It seems like persistence helps in keeping the soul in tact. I'm glad. It would be boring if everyone had it too easy.


[2] Arrival - Boardwalk

[Once covered and finally stable in more than one way, Mahito's fairly aware of the expectation to stay nearby and help those who reach the shore after him. Which is precisely why he's wandered off to do anything else.

For a moment that means feigning the need for warmth in order to earn a hot chocolate and overhear that nervous gossip. After a while, he'll approach another Sleeper in hopes of further insight.]

Even somewhere like this, humans aren't any different. They're more worried about the impact on themselves, right?


[3] Wildcard

[OOC: Have your own idea? Want to try one of the other prompts? Feel free to write something else, or let me know here or over discord (osoroshia#9810) if you'd like a custom starter!

Note Mahito is stupidly overpowered, so please also check my Permissions/Abilities page, and consider plotting if your character's more likely to fight than talk. I'll keep him relatively harmless, otherwise.]

Re: Mahito | Jujutsu Kaisen | Vileblood

[madgamerhat]

Arrival: Shore

[ The old man's curiosity piques at this time of the month. He has taken the day off from fishing to greet the new Sleepers- people like himself who have had the misfortune or pleasure of being brought to this strange land. With a bag of robes and a package of smoked fish, he feels prepared to provide a warm welcome.

However, he cannot help but to stare. What is this man? He cannot be entirely human. The old man observes the stitching across the other's body. Still, his statement brings more confusion. ]

Too easy? Well if a challenge is what you want, then this place will sure suffice.

Robyn Goodfellowe | Wolfwalkers | Paleblood

[wolfhunted]

A. Arrival
[After washing up on the beach and realizing that she is, in fact, human again, it takes a little while for Robyn to get her bearings on her surroundings. She manages to get herself into a sitting position and cover herself with a robe that was conspicuously sticking out of a bag that's near her, but at first all she can do is blink blearily at everything around her. That is, until a small falcon flies down and lands in front of her, and her eyes light up with recognition.]

Mer...lyn?

[Later on, once Robyn has figured out how to walk again, you can find her at the boardwalk, wrapped up in a fur and eating some soup. She occasionally fishes out some ingredients to feed to Merlyn, who's perched on her shoulder.]

You really don't remember how you got here, either? [Merlyn cheeps in response, and Robyn frowns.] Then how...?

B. Image of the Self
[Of course it doesn't take long before something weird happens. One minute Robyn is heading somewhere, the next she's found herself in a warped space where everything seems turned upside-down and inside-out. If you've been brought here with her, you might find that Robyn herself is somehow standing upside down, as she's just able to catch her crossbow before it falls into whatever abyss this place is on top of.]

That was close. But there must be a way out, right...? [Of course, as she says that, she notices how there are suddenly a lot of doors, seemingly attached to the walls, the stairs and any surface where you normally wouldn't expect a door to go.]

...oh, Jesus, Mary and Joseph. [That's the only thing she can think of saying right now.]

C. A Good Night's Sleep--network: goodfellowe
[While the Omni's technology is a good deal beyond what she's familiar with back home, it hasn't taken Robyn too long to figure out how it works. And right now, she could really use some advice. The feed turns on to show her still in a nightgown, with her hair braided but rather disheveled and dark circles under her eyes.]

What do you normally do to get yourself to go to sleep? I've tried everythin' I can think of, but nothin' works. And I really want to sleep, but...

[For a moment it seems like she's almost nodding off, and an odd golden glow appears in front of her face as she closes her eyes--almost in the shape of a wolf's face--before she gasps and jolts herself back, breathing hard.]

I-I'm alright, it's just...I feel like...if I do fall asleep, somethin' will...come after me. Does anybody else feel like that?

[Robyn has felt too scared to sleep before, but that was so she wouldn't leave her body as a wolf and reveal herself as a Wolfwalker. Now, it feels different, and more sinister.]

D. Wildcard
[Feel free to hit Robyn up with any other scenarios! You can PM this journal or contact me at oliviousness.]

Image of the Self

[baiyueguang]

[Lan Xichen is not sure who Jesus, Mary and Joseph are or what they did to warrant their names being a profanity in and of itself, but he certainly recognizes the sentiment. He's feeling something quite similar as he leaps back onto solid(er) ground just as he feels the floor give way into some manner of liquid.

He watches in morbid fascination as it dribbles upward, leaving behind a perfectly spherical hole as though someone had just taken a cosmic cookie cutter to their surroundings.

Just when you think you've seen it all, the world manages to surprise you.]

Let's hope there is. Are you able to get down, young lady?

Atsushi Nakajima | Bungo Stray Dogs | Deer CRAU

[undermoonlight]

(a) Re Arrival

[When he washes up on the beach, Atsushi's first thought is that this feels familiar. He distantly remembers the feeling of returning to his human form, which brings up memories of the last time he washed up on the beach. As his thoughts and feelings begin to settle, Atsushi can recalls two pasts: Hanging out with Kyouka and Lucy in Yokohama, laughing and having fun... and then a life here. In the Trench. With his family.

He quickly snaps out of his squidy daze and rushes to grab his clothes-- changing before the cold can get him,-- then scrambles towards the pier. His legs still feel wobbly from the change, but he's too stubborn to rest. There's something more important than being able to walk in a straight line.]

Usagi-chan? Makoto! [Atsushi stumbles to a stop when he nearly crashes into someone.] Excuse me? Do you know Usagi and Makoto? Are they still here?

(b) Image of Self

[Atsushi quickly realized that he had been gone for a few months... Which felt terrible. This is the second time that he's vanished and left his friends behind. The first time, he went from Deerington to the Trench: It was understandable that he was both physically and emotionally lost after that shift in locations. But this time is different. He's lived in the Trench before and he lived here long enough to memorize the layout.

The Trench being weird was kind of normal to begin with, but this is ridiculous. When he exits a shop, Atsushi finds that the once sensible streets have morphed into an architect's nightmare. The buildings are tall and twisty, the roads wind in too many directions, and his head is already spinning. Not wanting to deal with this BS on the day of his arrival, Atsushi turns around and tries to go back into the store... Only to find that this building has grown too and the doorknob is at least fifteen feet above his head.

Atsushi growls in annoyance.]

I know that I was gone for a while, but come on. No construction gets done this fast! [He glares at the doorknob, then looks down the road. Tightening his grip on the housewarming gift he just bought, Atsushi takes a step forward.] 'Welcome home,' I guess. [He sighs.] Let's get this over with.

[And he'll spend the next hour walking in circles. Please help.]

(c) A Good Night's Sleep

[Insomnia and Atsushi have never been a good mix. While he spends the first few days and nights acting relatively chipper, treating the insomnia as a chance to catch up on housework and refamiliarize himself with the Trench, the lack of sleep gradually begins to wear on him. And when the cracks begin to show, they show.

It gets harder to be cheerful and becomes impossible to block out his rising paranoia. He's already prone to seeing shadows of his past, but now he has a foreign fear gnawing on his consciousness: When he does finally sleep, he's not going to wake up. He might go back to Yokohama- Would that be bad? Would that be better? He's trying not to question it, but he has too many waking hours to not think about everything.

This paranoia begins to turn into irritation. Atsushi feels like he's going to snap, so he spends his sleepless nights wandering the streets and trying to avoid people. Even during the day, Atsushi begins trying to isolate. As angry as he is, he doesn't want to snap at people. He doesn't want to hurt anyone, even if he's so annoyed that he can feel anger boiling in his blood. But it's stay awake and angry, or risk falling asleep and never waking up... It's hard to decide which is worse.

When he does cross paths with someone, Atsushi's first instinct is an angry snap:]

Get out of my way. [And then, hearing his own anger filled voice, he recoils and averts his gaze.] ... Sorry. That was rude. I'll get out of your way.

C: A Good Night's Sleep

[cloversandcranes]

[Makoto jumped back in shock at the hostile tone, a quick apology in his mouth, before stopping when Atsushi continued. Blinking in confusion, he lowered his arms and looked at the weretiger curiously before offering a small smile.]

There's no need for an apology. I was the one who ran into you. Really it's okay.

[Makoto took another look at Atsushi before hesitantly asking.]

...Are you okay? You look terrible.

[Honestly, everyone has been lately, but he was still concerned for this stranger.]

Sypha Belnades || Castlevania || Coldblood

[scholar_of_magic]

Boardwalk

Sypha was still rather confused as she walked along the strange boardwalk. She rubbed her hands over her arms. The robes she had been given weren't helping much against the cold. She also needed to remember how to use her magic again. Her head was still rather fuzzy, but she noticed a place that smelled amazing.

She made her way over and began to look around. Before she went to the food, she managed to get herself a dark colored fur to wrap in and keep warm. It reminded her of someone else, but she said nothing about it just yet. Once she was warm, she went over to the food and drinks that were available to the new arrivals. So many choices! She wanted to try everything, but she knew that would be a bad thing.

She coould also begin to learn how to bake. Since Sypha came from a nomadic tribe, she had never really learned how to bake properly. It was hard to bake when you're constantly moving around the countryside. It was incredibly tempting. She had so many choices! She made a small, frustrated sound as she tried to make up her mind.


This is worse than Drac's castle...

Sypha was just now getting used to her own powers and the additional powers she had gotteen when things started shifting around her. She hadn't even had a chance to get used to this place yet! She made an annoyed sound as she glanced around. This was worse than the silly roumors that went around about Dracula's castle constantly changing. She knew that it moved around, she had pulled it to the edge of the Belmont Estate herself. She didn't think that the halls themselves moved around though.

"This is starting to become quite a bother," she said as she looked behind her. Sure enough, the path she had been walking along was no longer there. She had no choice but to move forward. She followed the path as best as she could, doing her best to stay away from any sudden falls when things changed again. The ground beneath one of her feet was simply gone, making her slip. She managed to grab the edge of the path and hold on, but she couldn't quite pull herself up.

"If there's someone out there, I could use some help!" She cried out, doing her best to hold on.

Good Night's Sleep

Sleep had never been this hard to get for Sypha. She knew how to sleep on the road, in the back of a wagon and even under trees. Of course that was before Dracula's hordes had been unleashed. Still, even after dealing with that, she had been able to fall asleep rather easily. However, this was compeltly different. Even the recipe she knew of for a tea to help with sleep didn't work at all.

She didn't even have any strays from the night horde she could take her anger out on. She tried to keep her temper in check, but the smallest of things were setting her off. She made a loud frustrated noise as she tripped over something in the path.

( drac's castle )

[ananym]

[ that voice . . . no it couldn't be. alucard starts walking, but his pace gets more frantic as he arrives and immediately pulls her up, concerned. ]

Sypha. Is it really you?

Katie 'Pidge' Holt || Voltron || Paleblood

[cutelilbayard]

Boardwalk

Cold. Pidge was really cold. She shivered as she made her way towards the boardwalk. She wrapped her arms around herself as she walked, stumbling every few steps. She needed something to wrap up in so that she didn't freeze. Being small made the elements hit her even harder than usual. She eventually made her way to the boardwalk and began to look around.

The blanket she got to wrap in felt amazing. She got herself some hot chocolate and some soup and found a nice space to sit, eat and stay wrapped up for a little while. Once she was done eating, she began to wander around again. There were so many different things to see and she was still kind of hungry.


A Lack of Sleep

Pidge and Sleep were mortal enemies. Her nights were usually filled with tinkering with code or trying to one up Lance on his high scores. This was nothing like her usual insomnia. At least when she was back home she would eventually fall asleep. Here? She couldn't find a way to sleep at all.

Pidge had a bit of a temper when she had enough sleep, now she was ready to fight anyone and everyone. Her focus was shot and she wasn't paying much attention to anything as she idly wandered around. So it wasn't much of a surprise when she smacked right into someone. She fell back on her butt and blinked up at who she ran into. Eventually her brain was going to catch up with her. Just give her a few moments.

Sleeeeeep

[tempredmental]

Keith hadn't been doing great with sleep, either. Whatever it was that was going on this month, sleep was apparently what was being affected. Keith's sudden attachment to music wasn't helping, either. For now, though, he was also kind of distracted as he walked along the boardwalk. It was that time of the month when squids washed up and turned into people, and it was a habit of his to come down this way to see if anyone he knew showed up.

After all, he'd had friends help him when he arrived. So, he wanted to give that back.

He wasn't expecting someone to walk right into his back while he wasn't paying attention. Honestly, he should have been, but he was just so tired. He turned around in kind of a daze to see what had happened and then stared for a second.

Was this real? He blinked, then rubbed his eyes.

"Pidge...?"

This wasn't a hallucination?

Genjiro Chibana. Handead Anthem. Paleblood.

[gokuraku]

01. ) SOMETHING IN THE WAY

//////////////////////////////// FARTHER SHORES ////

( Genjiro's bones ache down to the marrow as he walks. Even swathed in a blanket, he's far too cold. Shivering and trying to keep himself still; he'd kill for a drink of sake or tea, but the squids washed up grab his attention more than he's comfortable with.

Genjiro sits with them for a little while longer, digging absently through his bag as he waits. )

02. ) ENDLESS, NAMELESS

//////////////////////////////// BOARDWALK // CW: ALCOHOL ////

( People watching might be the move here. This place has so many interesting types running here and there. Even with him being so anxious at the displacement, he's content to watch and drink some cider. For now.

Thankfully, he's properly clothed by now, sipping a steaming cup to warm his bones. )

Hm? ... You look a bit cold.

( He addresses someone nearby, and goes to grab them a cup of hot chocolate. )

Here. It's good. And safe, I think.

03. ) INSOMNIAC

//////////////////////////////// ???? ////

( Delirium borne of insomnia, coupled with a rising Dead Level ... He's having a great time.

There's red scrawled across his eyes, seated outside against the brick of a building. He's nodding out where he sits, only to snap awake and bury his face in his hands. He groans, waits for relief. )

1

[worldcleansing]

Are you looking for somebody?

[ Light has managed to find his footing well enough to help those still coming to terms with what's happening. This close to the shore, there are more arrivals in their squid form than human so seeing Genjiro sitting in their midst is a bit odd. ]

They're not going to be recognizable until they remember their human form.

Mayerling | Vampire Hunter D

[whowillmourn]

Standard Arrival
⟿ ␀The Infinite Space of the Future (Closed to D)
CW: Immolation

Under the bright light of the bone moon under the lightening tones of the sky, a midnight black casing of squid pulses to molten steel until the steel gives way. The shape distends, firming up to something built around bone rather than giving flesh. In a sharp violent motion, five sharp claws stab out of the thick congealed membrane and shred it down the length. Nothing immediately reveals itself despite the cold morning sun.

Smoke wafts out, then thin gouts of flame that spread and burn the membrane into a shriveled husk pinned by the crackling body that sounds like a pig roasted on a spit. The body looks mostly human: feet at the end of each of two legs, a broad torso, two strong arms, and a head on a neck pillowed on white hair. One arm ends in a pale hand. The other in steel segmented claws that crackle with electricity. In an instant, all this too bursts into flame.

With a lot guttural noise, the person flips over and slowly crawls away from the lapping ocean waves and toward the caves. They're too weak to make it the entire way, but they reach a dark carriage with four cyborg horses stomping the wet sand. Save, their strength gives out, and the steadily burning body lies facedown in the sand, the clawed hand grasping for the edge of the door.

So this is how it ends, not with a failing life support system, not with faulty shielding upon reentry, not at the hands of vampire hunters, not from more than unfortunate timing. Poetic, if tragic. What escapes his lips is not one final rhyming couplet but a groan as he scratches at the door, his wrist slips from the edge his hand rests on, and the claws thunk against the earth.

Farewell, bitter world.

⟿ Ⅰ. Worked Like the Damned
CW: N/A

Early morning, so early that perhaps only bakers call it morning, a pale man with moon white hair pulled back helps one of the bakers. Flour cakes his hands as he gently kneads dough and completes every task asked of him without complaint. The baker observes and nods from time to time.

With great enthusiasm, Mayerling also greets any who come to the boardwalk for baked goods. The baker gently shakes his head behind Mayerling, which he ignores, in favor of the person before him.

Image of the Self
⟿ Ⅱ.ⅰ Shapes and Transitory Forms
CW: N/A

Though a relative newcomer to Trench, Mayerling is certain that the spiraling road tunneling out of the ground at a sharp angle, leaving chasms of unknown deaths beneath it, covered in clear glass is not what it should be. Whispers about the Tower have long reached his keen ears and their sensitive hearing. Experiencing it is something.

Another person comes out of the lamp teleportation ring. Mayerling holds out one hand to them and gestures with the other before him. "I know not where you go," he says, "I would go to the Archives, Trench and the Tower permitting. I know not how readily one may walk the road, but I can fly above it until it levels out. Have you need of assistance in this matter?"

⟿ Ⅱ.ⅱ Supreme Serenity
CW: N/A

A vampire is stuck on the edge of the boardwalk. An impenetrable wall behind him prevents him from returning. In front of him is a massive door which refuses vampiric strength and, foolish though it may be to try, command. No, at opposite ends, a good fifty feet away are two slightly elevated pads. Of keen enough analytical mind, Mayerling steps on one. It depresses, and something gives way in the mechanism, not enough to open the door, but enough for his ears to catch. The second platform is empty.

First, Mayerling leaves the large bag of flour the baker gave him on the one pad and occupies the second. Nothing.

Second, he turns his cloak to organic metal and distends it across the distance to pool and add weight. Nothing.

Third, he returns to the flour, heaves it into his arms as though it were no lighter than a loaf of bread, and runs swiftly, too swiftly to be seen clearly by the human eye between the two. No sooner does he leave a pad than it raises again. Nothing.

Fourth, he phases from pad to pad, movement even quicker than running. It acts the same. Nothing.

When someone else appears in the space, he sighs. "Thank the Sacred Ancestor," Mayerling says, "Would you be so kind as to stand over there?"

The sun has yet to rise, but Mayerling has wasted precious time.

A Good Night's Sleep
⟿ Ⅲ. Sympathetic Recognition
CW: Insomnia, Addiction Themes, Loss of a loved one

To say he rises would be an overstatement. That implies rest, of which Mayerling has received none. Shut in his coffin, safely away from all the people, their blood, and blood pollution, his day could have been worse. Though even now, under the bone moon, even humans may walk without fear of darkness. A strange and eerie experience that creeps under his skin with each successive day without sleep. He looks to the Pthumerian in the sky and wonders if she understands this interplay of pains.

As challenging though Trench is to be in, Mayerling would not return to the sea nor wander alone and lost in the polluted world. Not when he has spent another day among these people without being accused of terrible crimes, without being singled out to be watched warily, and without being ostracized and threatened should he remain. By such a metric, Trench is the friendliest place he has ever been.

The trouble is his eyes deceive him. A red haired woman rounds a corner in his direction, and Mayerling sees Carmilla. One hand draws his cloak around him, and the other elongates to metal claws. His mind catches up to his nose and smells the sweet temptation of human blood. His jaw twitches. His claws fold back into a hand. Mayerling turns away from her to consider a shopfront selling… something. It doesn't matter. What he sees on the floor isn't real. It cannot be real. 

Charlotte lays splayed out on the floor of the shop, blood spilled around her. Her dark curls. The white of her dress slowly staining red. It's his fault. It's his fault she died. Mayerling steps through the door without a though to crouch. Just in case— Just in case it is real. Just in case it is Charlotte. Just in case she is here too.

The Veins of the Tower
⟿ Ⅳ. Companions, in Misery and Worse
CW: Medical Horror, Enclosed Spaces, Minor Manhandling

No vampire lives for so many thousands of years from the time Mayerling hails without having tucked tail and run at some point in their long life. When his instincts tell Mayerling to run, he runs. He can process and ponder it later, supposing he lives. He runs. He runs so fast he's a blur. 

Something runs fast behind him, something he cannot see, something he cannot afford the time to look to see. The space is strange and different and unknown, but he again lacks the time to analyze it. Mayerling comes up on someone else running. There's no time, not with a creature able to keep pace with vampire speed. He picks them up into his arms and holds them against his chest.

When the elevator appears, Mayerling runs into it at full speed, hits the button to close the door with his cloak, and turns and batters the poor back wall with his momentum. His erstwhile companion it cushioned from the force. A few breaths verify that they will not die, not immediately, at the hands of whatever beast of imagination and machinations chased them. 

Gently, he sets the other person back on their feet. "I beg your pardon, humbly," Mayerling bows before them. "There was no time."

lever buddies

[worldcleansing]

It's a confusing act. Light isn't present for the entirety of the show, but the way the man moves captures his attention. It's very obvious that he isn't human. Perhaps Light should have offered earlier, but many people would have observed before stepping in.

Ah. He's caught.

"I don't mind. I'll likely need to move through the same door, too"

The man who approaches is young at only 23, but his eyes are sharp as he takes notes of whatever details he can glean from Mayerling.

"But I admit that I was curious about what you would try next. You're fast."

ronan lynch | the raven cycle

[threesecrets]

i. standard arrival

[Ronan is naked to the skin, but this feels mostly like an afterthought, under the current circumstances, as he tries to recall having legs and fingers instead of tendrils. He has not yet found his backpack, and as he sways woozily in the arms of his Waker, he certainly seems to be a ways off from being ambitious enough to attempt it. He's six-foot-four, with broad shoulders and a muscular build that speaks to a fondness for gym equipment and punching bags.

But his eyes are a little too blue, and his mind is still in the stars, in the water, in the sand and the breath, breath-- His awareness slowly sliding its way down to the small body he inhabits. Catching on his mouth and tongue and all the rest of the skin and bones that make up the body he's in. A tattoo etched on the expanse of his back in black ink, a mess of claws and talons and branches that ripple with the flex of his muscles- or maybe all on their own? It hooks up to the sides of his neck, and down to the curve of his (notably rather shapely) ass.

He takes a step back, and there's sound on his lips, even if it can't quite be called words just yet. But it was an attempt at least -- maybe something like thank you? There's a large raven on the sand that seems to be calling for his attention: kerah!, her tone insistent and almost petulant.]


ii. the boardwalk

[After not too very long he's lured out towards the Boardwalk by the blankets and furs that seem to be on hand for newcomers in need of something to ward off the cold. Ronan ends up with a blanket wrapped around his hips like a make-shift skirt, rather like someone might with a towel, and a dark fur wrapped around his shoulders. The raven is perched rather cheerily on his shoulder, her talons pressing into the skin of the fur.

One of the things about having recently been a fucking squid, is that it left Ronan starving. So it's easy to get drawn into the Boardwalk and its array of foods and warm beverages. He's not a picky eater, so he tries just about everything, picking out pieces to share with the raven as a bribe to keep her from picking through the trash.

But he does lose her attention for a minute, while he's helping out one of the bakers, only to find her perched on a counter in the process of devouring what looks to be a very stolen cinnamon roll. Oops. Was that yours?]

Chainsaw!

[Yes, that is her name. Really: do not let Ronan Lynch name things.]


iii. wildcard!

[Wildcard option! I sorta wanna see how he gets acclimated before tossing him into the other stuff, but down to plot via PM or safeaslife#0150 on Discord, etc etc.]

i 👀

[burnyoudown]

[It was cold out, so of course Kavinsky was dressed to ward off the chill. Boots that were laced up only halfway, jeans and a t-shirt under a hooded jacket. Currently, his boots were wet from wading into the ocean after a familiar form, and so were nearly half his pants. Not too long ago, he'd been the one washing up on the shore, trying to remember what it was like to have legs and a body instead of tentacles and a beak.

He didn't know how he felt right now. He didn't know how he felt about fishing Ronan Lynch out of the water. The other dreamer looked out of it, more out of it than Kavinsky had been, but K had always been quick to adapt.

There was a tightness in his chest, in his stomach. Was he glad to see Ronan? Was he worried Ronan wouldn't be glad to see him? It was sort of like the feeling he'd had upon being given a picture of himself and Prokopenko at the orphanage. He wanted to punch something. At least, this time he didn't want to punch a child. He didn't exactly want to punch Ronan either, though.]

You good, man? 'Cause I've gotta be honest, you don't look like you're good right now.

[He lingered close, close enough to catch Ronan if necessary but not close enough that he was crowding him. Was he taking in a good look at Ronan's everything? Absolutely. Was he being subtle about it? Absolutely not.]

FitzChivalry Farseer | Realm of the Elderlings

[listenyouidiot]

[ooc: fitz's canon point is from the end of fool's fate, i'm just choosing to be very kind to him by having trench bring nighteyes back to him because he's suffered enough lol.]

I. BOARDWALK

Fitz is better inured against November's bitterly cold winds and frigid waters than many other newly arrived Sleepers, due in no small part to many winters spent enduring the cold while carrying out his duties to the Crown on Buckkeep's inhospitable coastal cliffs. Rather like the grey wolf that ambles along at his side, a thick coat and something hot to eat or drink is more than sufficient to help him push any lingering discomfort to the periphery of his senses. Cold is cold. Being cross about it won't make it any less so.

He's a melancholic and solitary presence on the boardwalk most evenings, and seems to derive enjoyment simply from people-watching while seated on a bench, or the end of the boardwalk, or even the sands of the beach. Usually whatever he's eating will be shared without (audible) comment with the wolf at his side--and if he doesn't share quickly enough, well, Nighteyes seems to have no reservations about helping himself to a bite of cinnamon bun while Fitz's dark eyes are turned elsewhere.

That's what happens right now.

He grunts and pulls a face as Nighteyes, well pleased with himself, licks his chops after consuming half of the bun in one bite. Fitz lifts what's left of it to his nose. "This stinks of fish oil now."

A shame. Perhaps you should give the rest to me? This, heard only in Fitz's mind through their Wit bond, though Nighteyes' clear expectation that he will be fed is transparent enough to anyone else walking past their exchange.

Fitz only makes a disgusted noise and chucks it to the boardwalk before the wolf's large front paws. Or he would, if Nighteyes did not deftly snatch the pastry from the air before it could make contact with the weather-worn wood. Fitz scowls down at him affectionately.

"Glutton," he says and drops his hand into the wolf's dense scruff. Nighteyes' tail gives a single, satisfied thump against the ground.

II. A GOOD NIGHT'S SLEEP

He hasn't slept in days.

This is not the longest stretch of time that Fitz has ever gone without sleep, either while under the influence of carris seeds consumed to give his body more strength and vigour while carrying out his bloody work for his king, or while giving himself over to his Skill addiction. But in both those cases either the drug or his hereditary Farseer magic would be more than enough to keep his mind occupied by his mission, or by that relentless desire to reach, to seek, to know.

This insomnia is nothing like either of those experiences. This is objectively terrifying.

Brother?

Nighteyes' presence in his mind is anxious and pacing like the wolf himself, who has been trying to herd Fitz away from the path that leads into the Trenchwood--easier said than done, given the force of the hallucinations that keep Fitz doggedly committed to traveling in that direction. Sometimes it's the awful, gnawing memory of the Forged ones pursuing him during the Red Ship War, and their unsettling capability to avoid his Wit senses, to catch him or others completely unawares in the dark. Sometimes it is the sound of the Fool's screams, crying out for him as the Pale Woman flayed him alive.

Brother! The wolf bites at his trouser leg to try and bring him to heel. Come back, don't follow this road!

"Fool...?" He staggers to a stop in the middle of the street and shouts out his friend's absurd name--some street, somewhere, he doesn't know where he is--and whips himself around, desperately trying to remember how they became separated, because this isn't Aslevjal, is it? Where are they? "Fool, I can hear you, where are you!"

Nighteyes is an exceptionally intelligent wolf, rendered moreso by the years he and Fitz have been joined together through their Wit bond--but he is still a wolf, and there are times when he has no choice but to concede to the fact that Fitz still, unfortunately, remains more man than wolf himself. And so, dismayed and frightened, Nighteyes takes in his and Fitz's surroundings with all his senses, seeking out someone else who might be able to reach his bond partner where he cannot.

slides in for double insomnia time

[fanfavors]

When Huaisang cannot sleep for fear of something coming, his first and last rational thought is a simple one: he was wrong to assume his poor cultivation would spare him from qi deviation, and as Shen Yuan had predicted not days before, it is happening to the next of them now. There's no other explanation; he's never had trouble sleeping for any reason he couldn't identify, and even then: only from grief. It isn't grief that grips him now as soon as he lays down his head, and a day later, as soon as he so much as considers a good night's rest.

No; it's nebulous, darker. It dogs his footsteps and lingers in his periphery, something coming, something waiting. A glimpse of a shadow; a note of music.

When he hears his brother's voice the way it had sounded the day he died, Nie Huaisang resolves to go and do something, before he truly loses his mind. Another might wonder if Nie Mingjue has somehow come here, to Trench, but every agonizing syllable of his screams that day is etched on Huaisang's heart, and he knows a copy when he hears one.

So. He goes out. He needn't wander long before a suitable distraction presents itself, in the form of another man, a stranger, yelling in the streets for someone else with pain in his every word. Huaisang might have passed him by if not for that, left him to his own devices (he has a wolf with him? hello?), but—

"Who did you lose, xiansheng?" It will occur to him soon, that they're each suffering different shades of the same struggle. But not yet, so perhaps he can help this man (and his huge wolf, hello??) find who they're looking for. "If you call them a fool, they won't come!"

Captain Hook | Everland book series | Darkblood

[acrosticcaptain]

CW: body horror, mention of missing body parts, talk of a man-made highly infectious virus

I. Arrival

[The teenager who arrives on the shore already looks like he's been through the wringer. He's covered in scars, his left hand has blisters on it so severe some of the skin is coming off, plus there's the little details of missing both his right eye and right arm. Hook takes a while to come to himself. Being a squid had been so nice. No pain, no guilt from all the ways he's fucked up in his own world, and no sadness at missing the only family he has left in the world.

All that comes back to him in a rush but more than any of that is the alarm. He wasn't given the cure yet. He's still got the virus in his system. He's contagious. The alarm going off in his head is enough to get him to try and struggle to his feet despite being exhausted, sick to the point of near collapse, and missing one entire arm.]

Back off!

[He snarls out at those trying to help the Sleepers in a deep, growling voice that has a very distinct German accent to it. His voice is the kind that has authority to it like he's used to being obeyed. His one good eye is intense and feverish as he looks at the people around him.]

I've got a disease you really don't want to catch. Stay back and don't touch me.

[The problem is that it's airborne. Just breathing in and out here on the beach for God-only-knows how long is going to cause it to spread. He's got to get some clothes, find his prosthetic arm, and get the hell out of here, isolate himself as soon as possible. Of course, he's going to need help whether he likes it or not. Just don't get too close, he wasn't joking about that communicable disease he has.]

II. Image of the Self

[........This was the wrong day to leave the little rathole Hook found himself the first day he was here. He just looks up, down, and sideways at what's going on. Despite looking a touch surprised, he's more resigned than anything else, with a "this might as well happen" expression on his face.

He turns towards whoever might be nearby to him. Next to Hook, and looking very much like they're partially keeping him upright, is a very large crocodile. Despite the very toothy nature of the beast, they look quite friendly and have kind eyes. Hook himself dresses like something between a steampunk pirate and a soldier from the early 1900s. He looks very sick and like he shouldn't even be out of bed but he's run out of food and needed to go get more.]

Which way do you think the nearest shop is? Left, right, or up?

III. The Veins of the Tower

[As soon as Hook arrives wherever "here" is, he feels that urge to run. This isn't so different from one of the traps he and Jack faced in the Labyrinth, so he's hardly surprised there's something big and nasty he has to run from.]

Move it!

[He yells at whoever got dragged in here with him. For someone sick with a disease that should have killed him about three months ago, he's surprisingly fast. Strong too, for if the person who's with him falls a few steps behind, he'll yank them hard enough to let them get some distance between them and whatever creature is coming after the two of them. Best to keep moving quickly before it catches up.]

IV. Network Post: Voice; un: HOOK

[The voice that comes on has a distinct German accent to it, a gruff, growling voice that still has the edge of youth to it. He's slurring his words a little like perhaps he's a bit drunk. For a few moments, it sounds like he's discussing with someone how to send out a message, someone with a thin, reedy voice, likely the Omen of whoever it is trying to talk.]

I don't want to do this.

Do you have a choice? To not tell them will be far worse in the end.

You're right. So I just have to start talking and you'll somehow transit it?

That's all there is to it.

[There's a pause before he begins.]

I regret to inform whoever is listening to this that I brought with me a plague that had already infected me quite some time ago. It is airborne and is unfortunately already making its way through this city. The older a person, the quicker it will kill them. It works much stronger if the person is female as well. Sorry about bringing it with me.

[Despite the blithe sentence, Hook really does sound guilty about bringing this with him. He's manage to fuck up just by existing. That's a first for him.]

If there's any doctors or scientists about, I must speak with you immediately. The younger the better. I'll provide whatever you need to work on a cure but one must be found. If it's not, everyone in this city will be dead in two years time.

V. Wildcard!

[Want to do something else? Give me a poke at Light_shade or on Lightshade#4738 on Discord!]

II

[hopesparks]

[ Anakin might've been asleep for a month, but the Trench shouldn't have changed this much. Well. That would be true if the Trench were like any other place. He was just out shopping for winter clothes and now he's somehow halfway up (down?) a flight of stairs.

He gives the other teen an apologetic look. ] Your guess is as good as mine. The Trench normally isn't like this.

alex chen » life is strange: true colors » paleblood

[colorwheels]

» arrival (locked to opheliac)

[ the first thing Alex truly becomes aware of is that she feels...peaceful. it's a foreign feeling in a life of stress, and for a moment, she almost loses herself to it, guided along by the waves as she is. how nice would it be to stay this way?

maybe that's why, even as the draw to the shore sets in, she can't quite seem to draw herself out of the colorful form she's reverted to as she rolls gently onto the beach. her form seems to lapse a few times, sand to squid to sand again. if squid made sounds, she'd probably be squeaking in confusion. ]

» arrival (boardwalk)

[ once she's been sorted, the obvious decision is to get her hands on something warm. she's still in the heavy blanket by the time she's started helping make bread and hand it out.

don't have something in your hand? look cold? well now you have a nice, hot piece of bread. enjoy. or maybe you're helping make the bread too and want to chat? though she keeps to herself, Alex is quick to give a little smile to anyone who looks her way. ]

» network (un: chens)

i have to admit, i didn't expect the next life to have social media. does tiktok still exist? is this the future version of nextdoor?

anyway. i'm alex. i'm a new sleeper. i'm hoping to get some advice on how to get started here, if anyone has it. stuff you wish you knew type things. no one i know is here, so i'm sort of winging it.

» wildcard

[ throw anything at me, and we'll run with it! ]

cw: song is about killing.

[opheliac]

(every so often, jinx wanders around in the beach. it's more so to check to see if her father, silco would find his way back to trench. she tries to stay hopeful when mylo whispers in her ears that he left for good and it's because of her own doing. if she hadn't ran away when she saw him, he wouldn't had resorted back to a squid and swum back.

but despite his cruel words, she still visits the beach. because according to her sister, she came back to trench several times. so... whose to say it won't be the same for him, right? jinx is humming along while twirling her right braid in a circular motion -- unable to control herself from buzzing a tune. it seems to be her blood effect this month; being ridiculously into music. not that it's a bad thing. it's an improvement from last month of constantly being exhausted. and so with a slow sway, she sings out hauntingly:)

♪ She told me not to step on the cracks
I told her not to fuss and relax ♪

(it's there she spots a very colorful squid up ahead. a quirk of an eyebrow with a stop of her braid twirling to observe it being sand to squid a few times.)

♪ Pretty little face stopped me in my tracks
But now she sleeps with one eye open ♪

(should she bother with that squid? there's no way it's silco, she thinks but there is something very unique and beautiful of its skin. and jinx can't help but to be just a little curious what kind of person would have such a color scheme. so with a small mischievous smirk and a sudden drop of her braid, she ventures further:)

♪ That's the price she'll pay ♪

(it's not until the blue braided girl is standing over the squid; listening to it squeaking in confusion. she doesn't move again immediately but soon crouches down to observe it more with her head slightly cock to the side.)