TDM: JUNE/JULY

[ryslighelpers]

TDM: JUNE/JULY

Welcome to the Ryslig Test Drive Meme! Below are a few prompts to get you started, but you may make up any prompt you desire! Please take a look at the navigation page for rules, setting information, and links to reserves and apps. Have fun!

SCENARIO ONE

You awaken in a small room, shelves full of cleaning supplies lining the walls. A bucket stands in the corner with a mop balanced carefully inside. How you came to be in this broom closet of sorts, you have no idea. You sure feel sore and hungry, though. Disoriented, you stagger to your feet and reach for the door handle. It responds perfectly to your touch and a second later, you take your steps into freedom.

If you didn’t know better, you’d think you’d walked into 1980s America: neon clothing and chunky plastic jewelry flash eye-searingly in one display window, an advertisement for “The Invention that Broke the Sound Barrier: The All-New Walkman Portable Cassette Player!” fills another. Shops all around peddle fashion from the 1950s to the 1980s, along with electronics and toys. In the food court, with its cheap plastic seating, one will find fries, sodas and even festival-type goods like homemade pastries. Hotdog weenies roll smoothly on a grill. That food sure looks good right now, doesn't it? Unfortunately, the shopkeepers expect you to pay in a strange currency called “solars”. Will you pull an Aladdin and steal a loaf of bread, or will you attempt to appeal to the proprietors' pity?

Take care not to draw attention to yourself, though! Mannequins wearing a variety of 80s fashion patrol the hallways with twitchy, stiff movements. To those from more tech-savvy worlds, they may appear to be androids. Every so often, a very tinny, flat voice can be heard emitting from them–"SAFETY FIRST!" As you hurry away, their heads swivel around completely to continue tracking you, despite their lack of eyes.

And if you opted to steal? A good dozen of them will turn on you in an instant, hunting you down across the mall with far more speed than anyone would've expected them to employ. Maybe you can hide in that ballpit. Or the fountain. Or up the escalators, go go go!

SCENARIO TWO

You've stumbled your way into a city, and you're promptly besieged by the overwhelming sights and sounds. Cars honk at you to get out of the street, and strangers try not to look in your direction for too long. They see your lost expression and your clothes- so different from their own- and pretend to busy themselves with something else. Rarely, a look of pity is cast your way.

But some people try to reach out. Enterprising citizens and those that hope to curry favor with the newcomers pass out new clothes and bundles of food, asking if you have a place to stay the night, wondering about the details of the world you came from. A hefty laptop may be handed to you, with words of a ‘network’ used for communication. Wonder what that’s about? Then there’s the very confusing pamphlet stuffed within: "What To Expect When You're Expecting (To Turn Into A Monster)”. They may direct you to an organisation known as the Lighthouse, their members most prominently found at the 38-8 apartments and the Lighthouse Church. Or perhaps, if you're injured, they'll refer you to the Crowe Clinic instead. Unfortunately, the directions you're given are so very complicated that you lose your way in the streets after two left turns, a right and a left at the soup kitchen.

Take care when asking for more help. There are the people who aren't happy to see you at all. Glares and silent, judging stares if you're lucky, torches and pitchforks attempting to drive you out of the town if you're not. You may need a friend to help you.

SCENARIO THREE

Now that you've found a moment of peace, you open up the mysterious device that's been handed to you. Perhaps you'll recognize it as some sort of laptop, albeit an old and clunky one. Or perhaps you'll be astounded by this curious feat of technology, which is unlike anything you've ever seen before. Regardless, the moment the lid is propped open to reveal the screen and the keyboard within, you gain your first glimpse of the network.

Perhaps you'll want to choose a username and write your very first message, posing the pressing question that's on your mind at this very moment. The lettered buttons click and clack awkwardly beneath your fingertips as you type.

However, you may instead want to respond to today's most popular message.

WELCOME TO RSDOS. PRESS F1 TO COMPOSE POST. *** TODAY’S TOP POST *** 018.07.154.55 <JUSTSOMEGUY> Which is the better pet, a fur-bearing trout or a Kulen parasite? Or a timeloop groundhog? Ooh or maybe one of those fish with the big saw blades? C'mon, we've got so many cool animals here! Discuss!

SCENARIO FOUR

The time has come and you've found yourself becoming a monster. Is the change instant, or gradual? Are you familiar enough with monsters to know what's happening, or is it a complete shock? Does it fit you, or does it feel incongruous with your nature? Feel free to pick any monster type for this prompt, but note that you may not get the same one in game.

Comments

kris pulaski | we sold our souls

[bluedoorsky]

i. are you on the square

[The closet is one thing. She's woken up way worse places than this closet. It's practically cushy.]

[The problem is what's outside the closet.]

[The 80s were a weird time for her. Big highs, big lows. The kind of shit she's looking at right now, these were lows. The colors make her wince, turning her head back towards the closet instinctively as though she's seriously considering going back in there and shutting the door. It's not not tempting. If she doesn't see neon ever again, it'll be too soon.]

[But one cannot live in a mall closet for fear of the neon outside. So, ultimately, she lets go of the doorknob and steps out into the wilds of the mall.]

[It doesn't take long to get the feel of the place. She doesn't bother asking for food for free. Instead, she walks the perimeter, getting a feel for what stores are available, who looks friendly versus not so much. There's this one place that looks more promising starting on her second lap around the mall: it's shift change, and the girl with a jaw set like rock in pure minimum-wage resentment is replaced by a kid who probably isn't legal working age, but what does she know about the rules in weird robot 80s throwback mall land, anyway? Doesn't matter. What matters is, he doesn't look fucking broken yet.]

[So Kris wanders into the toy store. Strolls up to the counter. Points at the pint-size guitar hanging on the wall behind the kid. Makes a proposition.]

I can't pay for that now. But if you let me borrow it for an hour, I'll get you double asking price. I won't leave your line of sight, even. Right outside there. [She thumbs over her shoulder.] C'mon, you know nothing else interesting is gonna happen today.

[And that's how Kris Pulaski ends up leaned against a glass display window, a teeny-tiny crap-ass guitar with a tinny ten-watt amp tucked against her. Before she taps the amp on, she tests and finds, inexplicably, that it's in tune. So, you know. Life is weird sometimes.]

[A few moments later, a power chord cuts the air, and the neutral mall music is summarily drowned out. Her leather jacket's scrunched up by her feet, waiting patiently. Toss a coin, why don't you?]

ii. are you on the level

[As it turns out, the mall was better than whatever's going on out here. Not the information overload, although it is ridiculously overwhelming. No, it's the looks that start getting to her almost immediately. There's an edge to them she can't put her finger on. She's used to living on the fringes, but this is something else entirely, and she hates not understanding. It's dangerous.]

[Somebody's a busybody, though, bustling up to her with an armful of pamphlets, and that relaxes her. There's always one person who wants to help-slash-wants a front-row seat to your problems.]

[With moderate grace, she takes the pamphlets one at a time, scanning them relatively quickly before tucking them under her arm. The longer she looks, the more puzzled her expression.]

Kind of improbable that none of these have an extra head, huh?

[This seems to stop the helpful citizen in their tracks. Noticing the silence after a moment, Kris looks up, blinking.]

. . . Well, it kind of is, isn't it? All this variety and only ever one head?

[ok lmao]

iii. are you ready to swear right here, right now—

[She probably shouldn't even bother. But sometimes, she's the one who just has to know. Sometimes she's the dipshit.]

<< doropesch >> saw blade fish? come on. know when to quit.

iii thank you square hammer will be in my head all day now

[redtapes]

un: mindblown

There is an obsession with odd fauna here. Can't say I'm familiar with the saw blade fish but there's definitely an obsession with the possibility of a furred trout.

Sorbet Shark | Cookie Run: Kingdom | OTA!

[mershark]

1. This isn't the ship... -

[ Waking up in a broom closet is, as it turns out, entirely normal behaviour for Sorbet Shark. He's fallen asleep in the cleaning closet several times, much to the chagrin of Pirate cookie.

He takes a breath in. And that's when he panics. A strange pulse races through his chest, air fills his lungs on instinct. Hands pat along his body, over a silly little pirate costume with brown leggings and a loose white top and brown jacket, tied together with a bright red sash. It looks like it's straight out of a Peter Pan stage wardrobe. ]

OoOooooOOoOoOoo!?

[ Another micro-panic. He still can't talk, does that mean the curse is still on him? He looks down immediately, and he still has legs?! That's good! Those outside can likely hear the clattering of buckets and mops, loud crashing and sometimes a bubbly scream escaping from inside one of the closets. ]

- Or a bit later -

[ He's a pirate, pirates take what food they want! And look at all this treasure?! Wherever he is, he's sure pirate cookie would reward him plenty if he brought some of this back!

Cue a wobbly shark-like man running down the hall. He's so unsteady on his feet it's a wonder he hasn't been caught yet, a few of those plastic oversized jewelry stuffed into his shirt pockets and a delighted little grin on his face as he sliiiides along the floor and dives into the ballpit around the corner.

Excellent, they'll never find him here. Never mind that he may have landed on top of someone else, or just beside them. Shhhhh. ]

2. Fish out of Water -

[ What a big town! So many friendly people... Sorbet is only barely listening to the instructions, he's bee lining his way away from the ocean as fast as he can. Which isn't very fast. He walks like walking is entirely new to him, wobbling this way and that, unsteady given all the clothes and food that have been shoved into his hands. ]

OooOoooOOOOoooo... (Over here looks fun.)

[ He's heading to the divey part of town with a bright smile. Look at all the stuff he's got after all? What could go wrong. Even as shadows in the streets start to follow him, the occasional flash of weapons. The oblivious shark-man continues forwards, meeting glares with smiles, looking for a bar or pub that seems lively. He's never been this far in on land! What an adventure!

Please help him.]

3. Wildcard! -

[ Want a different scene? Go for it here! Or contact me through DM or hantale to plot something. I can even give out my discord if you ask for it! ]

((OOC Note: Worth noting I couldn't decide if sorbet should or shouldn't have his voice back, and decided to play it safe with him not being able to speak! A few people in cookie canon can understand him anyway; if you'd like, your character can be one of them! Perhaps merfolk can understand the song of the water, or you just have a very keen ear for listening? Feel free to make something up!))

screams its THE BABY BOY, 2

[charmpagne]

[Fellow Cookies are equal parts easy and difficult to spot, when they do appear in Ryslig. It's easy because only certain people would arrive talking about Earthbread, and struggling to walk on feet they've never had before, among other things. It's harder when the forced humanization makes them more difficult to recognize, and Sparkling once again is out in the newcomer throngs to make sure he hasn't missed someone. He's extra paranoid this time, since he'd been asleep for so long the previous month...and apparently had missed more than one arrival, however short their stay had been.

He's in his bat form currently, flitting about above the heads of humans and monsters alike, taking advantage of the Fog shielding him from the sun so that he can actually be out safely. And, honestly, if the way poor Sorbet is wobbling about wasn't his first clue, his manner of speech would be.

For you see, this is the first Cookie in quite some time that Sparkling would actually have reason to recognize. He remembers that voice.

He dips down quickly, flapping his wings until he finds a nearby store awning to land on that Sorbet is approaching. He doesn't want to startle him, but he's not sure how best to go about this...he's not sure he'll be able to see him from where he is, with all of those clothes he's carrying. So, in the end, Sparkling decides to quickly dip into an alley so he can transform back to his normal form away from prying eyes, stepping out onto the sidewalk just as Sorbet begins to approach.]

Ah...excuse me! May I speak with you a moment?

Cid Kagenou | The Eminence in Shadow | ota! will match format (former fourthwaller)

[livingalarp]

[A] [cw: reference to cannibalism]
[ The first thing Cid notices is his magic's gone - again? still? He can't tell how much his overall location has or hasn't changed yet. The second thing he notices is that he seems to be otherwise normal. No strange transformations here! Huh. It's only a distant third in details worth noting that he appears to be inside a broom closet. Well. That's new, at least.

So a black-haired teen in a military-esque uniform exits a broom closet, stopping short as he takes in the sights around him. The technology here... too ancient for Japan, too modern for Midgar... and too... 80s-specifically for that weird monster city he'd been in before. Where's he ended up now? Then his stomach growls and, remembering what happened the last time he put off eating, Cid follows his nose to the food court.

That's where he can be found, having a bit of back and forth with one of the vendors. ]

"Solars"? But that's... that's the currency of that place - don't people transform and eat each other here? Alright, look at it this way - isn't me eating something that isn't still alive (or you) what's really important here?

[ It seems he's somehow still in the monster-city, but specifically the part where hot dog vendors care more about coinage than their own survival. Not that Cid is aiming for "threatening" so much as "being reasonable" but that doesn't seem to matter to the vender really, not nearly as much as the fact that zeni aren't solars. ]


[B]
[ After an attempted dine and dash that, given circumstances, Cid feels is really very justified, he's found himself surrounded by the safety mannequins. He's managed to trash a few with his fists so far, but their numbers aren't exactly diminishing... Still, Cid seems more of an even mix of bored and mildly aggrieved than truly concerned.

Inwardly, Cid is reluctantly admitting that he shouldn't have let himself get surrounded. It's not that he doubts his fighting ability, it's that he’s in "background character"-mode still - he doesn’t want to let on that he can handle this. ...And then there's the fact that he's apparently grown to rely on his magic enough that these things were able to surround him, that's no good. It's sloppy of him, is what it is!

He frowns, finally looking a little troubled as he considers how to break free of the circling mannequins without making too much of a show... jump over their heads? Hm, no, not possible without at least a little magic, they're too tall for an unpowered leap... Maybe he could grab one's outstretched arms and leverage them to do a handstand, flipping over their heads, that's a little more non-magical speed. But is that too showy? Mmmm... kinda?? Ugh, what a mess. ]


[C]
[ Having finally escaped the mall and its mannequins, Cid resolves to do a bit of scouting. The first time around, this place caught him off-guard, so he'd better do a little information gathering this time around. And now that he's not steadfastly avoiding them, Cid has managed to accumulate a good number of pamphlets!

If the notes jotted on some of these pamphlets are to be believed, the information seems to mostly serve comedic purposes. ...Perhaps he hadn't been wrong to ignore all this the first time. ]

"Fur bearing trout" is a real mouthful... why not call them "woolly trout"?

[ Cid sighs slightly. Maybe he'd do better to ask around instead of relying on the pamphlets. The locals had been eager to explain when he'd first arrived in town... he can't locate any of those weirdos with confetti and the white-bug-eyed costumes now though. So who to ask...?

Eeny, meeny, miney - you. ]

Hey, are there non-joke versions of these things somewhere?

[ He holds up a pamphlet detailing fur bearing trout, his expression bland. ]


[D]
[ Some time later, Cid sits on a park bench with his old-timey laptop and a pile of useless pamphlets sitting beside him, lost in thought as he ponders this situation he's in. He still doesn't know how he got here, but if this isn't just a very vivid dream... well, obviously his first priority needs to be getting back to Midgar.

Hm. No, that's wrong. His first priority needs to be getting back his magic. He can work on figuring out what kind of portal he must have stumbled into after he can at least sense magic again... this place absolutely has magic, he's seen it in action all over the place. But for some reason his once keenly-attuned senses can't pick up any magical energy fields, only the bare basics of visible flames or people standing sideways on walls, physical effects that any rando could see with mundane senses. The energy itself... he can't see it, he can't feel it, he can't detect it in any way. And that's a definite handicap, one he can't see his way around...

Wait. Maybe he's somehow become magic-blind? Rather than not having his magic, he simply can't sense that it's still there to be used... hm! This angle has potential.

He decides to give it a try, attempting to focus his magic, willing it to life despite his inability to feel the power. He stares intensely at his hand, flexing it slightly. After a good few minutes of nothing happening, he scowls and intensifies his focus. He glares into the palm of his twitching hand as if he's trying to bore through it with his eyes alone. ]


[E]
[ Ultimately there's only so much he can do in background character mode. He's finally gotten some less ostentatious clothing from that Lighthouse place... which means it's time to switch gears a little. He can't do magic for the moment, so his usual costume and feats are out of reach, but he can at least return to being a fancy hoodlum slayer for a bit. ...Only, he's not sure where to find hoodlums here. His previous experience tells him that outside of the cannibalism, there's surprisingly little crime to be stopped in this place... which he supposes is reasonable. When one has to worry about being eaten in response, one would likely hesitate to mug strangers.

But that means there's an open niche. It's time to play the bad guy for a little bit. And he knows one place that lacks normal policing to boot... he could even show off a bit now that he has a disguise!

Which is how there came to be a distinctly average young man pulling his hoodie low over his face in a mall sporting goods store, just before picking up a golf club and giving it a few experimental swings... and then he goes up to the cashier and adopts a menacing stance. ]

Gimme cash, now.

[ His voice is unusually deep and cold, not at all how he normally speaks.

The cashier is taken aback. Nobody... robs the mall stores... indeed, there are already a few distant tinny cries of "safety first!" from mannequins coming to address this issue. Beneath his lowered hood, Cid grins. Good, good! Lets see how you fare against the Golf Club Bandit, mannequins! But first...

He readies his golf club, prepared to take a vicious swing at the cashier that would definitely hit before any of the inbound mannequins could intervene. ]

Now!

[ The cashier, startled out of his initial disbelief, finally hastens to comply, no doubt counting on the mannequins to retrieve whatever he hands over. ]


[wildcard!]
[ Have a different idea you want to run by me? Feel free to poke me at MomeMordrid! ]

B

[dauvkind]

[He noticed the commotion while exploring this place and with his 6-and-a-half feet of height, had little troubles looking over the weird figures. Spotting a child, fighting. Normally he wouldn't interfere, the Ministry complaining time and time again that he needed to keep a low profile. Especially when it came to bloodshed.

But this was a child and none of them should fight when he could do a thing about it, taking their place. And this odd figures surrounding the boy don't look human. They don't look like anything he knows, but the 'not human' part is enough that this could fall into his kind of work. At least in a way he could pretend for paperwork, should some arise later.

Sigrud thinks, for a moment. Then he stalks up to the nearest figure at the outer edge of the circle, grabs it's legs and starts carving a path by simply swinging and bashing it into the others.]

“Just hold out a minute!” [he calls to the boy.] “This shouldn't be long.”

[oleaeuropaea]

1. Petty Crimes

[On some distant planet, the sight of one lanky, baby-faced schmuck running from a crowd that's way too big would probably not be out of place. By the way he beckons a loud "Sorry" even as he twirls like a ballerina to avoid the outstretched hands of an android, he certainly seems to have practice with this sort of thing. Sure, he does struggle on the up escalator, sprinting in place rather cartoonishly before he figures out what's going on and adjusts his stride, but for the most part dodging an angry crowd seems to be what he does best.

Maybe he's even having fun with it.

Eventually, though, he seems to grow out of breath. It's only then that he manages to swiftly dip around one corner, then into a rack of clothing within another shop. He stays there until the crowd passes by, then finally stretches out, acting as if he hadn't just dodged a group of law-abiding robots.

Yes, he does have a hotdog sticking out of his mouth. And if he spots you looking at him, he'll grin around it and fish another from a pocket.]

I'll pay them back double once I get my bearings, don't worry!

2. The Monster You Made Me

a
[In contrast to the mall — which he doesn't blame anyone for, honest! — the streets feel warm and welcoming in a way Vash isn't used to. It's hard to miss the vibrant red of his jacket, but he does his best to look inconspicuous all the same by pulling up its massive hood. Nevertheless, people clock him for what he is almost instantly — a stranger.

He tenses the moment he's approached, muscles coiling as he prepares to run once again. When they instead offer items instead, he's left looking... dumbfounded. He closes the fingers of his cybernetic limb — still functional, somehow, despite the damage it had taken on the Sand Streamer — around the proffered items, whether they be simple clothes, or technology, and smiles almost sadly.

If noticed, he'll give a wave and stretch that smile into something far more vibrant.]

Oh, don't mind me. [And then he'll hold out whatever's been offered to him.] But you look like you could use this more than me.

b
[There is one exception to this. Vash does keep the pamphlet, and even tucks himself aside to read it. He makes it only a few sentences in before his skin blanches. His eyes dart to the sky, while the pamphlet itself crumples within the fingers of his hand.

How else could he read this but a warning, after all. A message. The hairs on the back of his neck prickle, and he finds himself searching for — something. His eyes dart this way and that, looking for the glint of a knife or two. Or perhaps Millions of them, if we want to be more overt about it.

Anyone that attempts to put him at ease will quickly be urged away.]

Don't worry about me. Go. It's not safe.


3. Communication Error

[It takes some fiddling, to understand the laptop. It's so outdated in terms of Vash's own experience that he actually struggles. Before long, though, his name pops up on the network.]

needle noggin: are any of those birds?
needle noggin: honestly i'm starting to think i'm a little lost ⊙﹏⊙∥

4. Wildcard

[Hit me with something random, or send me a message on ashstriferous]

2

[polarvoid]

[The streets of Bavan are always very busy when newcomers arrive and- typically- Basil tries not to be on them when it happens. It's a little overwhelming, even moreso than the usual crowds, but this time...Basil has made himself come. Why? Well...because Sunny is here, that's why. And if Sunny came, then anyone else could. Kel, Hero...Aubrey.

He tries not to think about anyone else.

So the little Gargoyle has made the trip over, padding nervously from sidewalk to sidewalk, occasionally dipping into a corner store when the crowds become too much. He's been here long enough to know that despite how welcoming most monsters (and humans) can be, at least here, there is a portion of the population who isn't quite so nice. Normally they won't try to attack an unchanged monster unprompted, but they will treat them differently, ignoring them at best, and outright shunning them at worst. Basil, at least, toes a weird line between these two facts, because most humans find him too small and endearing to be afraid of. A select few are paranoid of everyone and everything, and know Basil for what he is.

A monster, whether he wants to be one or not.

He happens to overhear Vash as he whispers something hushed to a concerned passerby, his ears perking. It's not safe, he says with a sort of conviction that most newcomers don't have. Like yes, obviously it isn't safe in a world full of actual real monsters, but...there's something about his tone that speaks to a different matter entirely.

After a moment of nervous deliberation, thinking about approaching but then talking himself out of it, the issue is forced when someone surges past him and accidentally knocks him forward (not hard to do, he's so small), causing Basil to stumble right into Vash's side. He's quick to pull back, looking appropriately embarrassed and apologetic as he holds his hands in front of him, resisting the urge to just slap them over his face entirely.]

Ah! I'm sorry...are you okay?

[He asks after having bumped into him so lightly he may as well have been tickled by a feather.]

Robin Buckley | Stranger Things | OTA (former fourthwaller)

[grivences]

01. YOU SPIN ME RIGHT ROUND, BABY, RIGHT ROUND

[ The first thing Robin notices upon coming around to wakefulness is that she has the right number of legs again. Which is to say, two. This is such a euphoric development that it takes her a while to notice the second thing, which is that she's waking up in a closet again. ]

Oh, you have got to be kidding me. What is this, karma?

[ The Fog, or whoever is behind all this push and pull, sure has some sick sense of humor. But, whatever. She quickly takes stock of her situation, which is that she's back in her actual body, in a closet, presumably still in Ryslig? Because according to what everyone else told her, there's no actual way of leaving and going back to Hawkins. She certainly doesn't remember being back home. All she remembers is going to sleep as a weird wolf-centaur-thing, and then waking up back here. In a closet, human again.

Finally, she decides she's not going to get any answers by just staying in the closet, so out she goes. The first person she runs into, she stops and asks, ] Excuse me, sorry... What day is it?

03. SHE BOP, HE BOP, A-WE BOP

[ Finally, Robin gets herself situated with a laptop again, although this time she decides to use a different username than the one she came up with on the spot the first time she browsed the Ryslig intranet. ]

<malinovka> Hey, weird ice breaker questions about animals aside...

<malinovka> Does anyone know anything about people getting do-overs here?

<malinovka> As in, "I was a monster, but now I'm human again, what a great chance for a do-over!"

0X. SWEET DREAMS ARE MADE OF THESE

[ Want something else? HMU with a wildcard! Or talk to me at millennialfalcon to plot something else. Will match prose or brackets. ]

1

[gitanes]

[It's probably a mark of how long Lila's been here on and off that she barely reacts to the question. She was standing more or less within eyeshot of the closet anyway, which definitely helps; the movement caught her attention before Robin approached her.]

[So now, well. She just leans back slightly to glance at the closet again — still definitely just a closet, yeah — before raising an eyebrow at the other girl.]

If you have to ask, you probably won't like the answer. What day are you expecting it to be?

Iggy Koopa | Mario Brothers

[bahahahaha]

1 - Awakening.

[ Iggy awakens with an audible groan, pushing himself to his knees. He adjusts his glasses and allows his vision to return to normal, blinking away the small amount of sleep or whatever that was away as he takes in his surroundings. This is definitely not a broom closet in the castle. He knows this, because he knows every crevice and crawl space and closet there is inside of Bowser's abode, and this ain't it. Even with all of the construction and clean up efforts... nah.

His suspicions are proven correct as he pushes the door open and blinks again -- yeah, this is all sorts of wrong. It's also all sorts of hilarious, which is why he throws caution to the wind and casually steps out into the open, laughing his head off. ]

Ahahaha! This is great! Did Roy actually manage to punch me into a new galaxy? Oh, man!

[ Except that's not what happened at all. As someone who has had his face punched in on more than one occasion by his hit headed brother, he'd definitely remember that. He'd also still be feeling it-- last he checked, they'd all been summoned into the throne room to speak with Bowser about the Skeletone D potion they'd worked so hard for.

Huh. ]

Welp! This is indeed a conundrum~ Whatever shall I do...

[ It's not a question, it's an extremely amused statement followed by a wicked, fang filled grin and another bout of slightly manic laughter as he makes his way in a random direction. Who knows who he might bump into! ]

2 - Into the Big City.

[ Wow. A lot of people sure seem friendly here-- he's not used to anyone other than the servants and minions at home asking him if he needs something or if they can do something for him. He's just sort of sliding off to the side with all of his goodies, dropping most of the clothing but using a shirt to make carrying the food things a little easier.

He ignores those who jeer, what with their pitchforks and the such. That is more or less the reactions he's used to, after all. He's more interested in the pamphlet though, so he saunters to a curb to sit down, staring at it for a long few moments. ]

Wow, seriously? And people call me crazy! Bahahaha!

[ Except... he shouldn't be laughing, or even surprised. Mostly because of all the weird shit that happens at home. He hums, using a single digit to flip through the pages, barely glancing at the words. ]

Hey. [ He's not looking up, but he's speaking to the unfortunate soul closest to him. ] Have you been here a while? Is any of this true?
[ He doesn't sound concerned-- if anything, he sounds stupidly excited. ]

Also, how long are we stuck all sorts of... [ He wiggles his fingers, still feeling weird about the whole thing. ] ...weird looking? No offense, but I make a way prettier Koopa.

[ Conpared to the weird green haired, spiked bracelet teenage punk whose sitting here now. Gross, man. ]

3 - Wildcard.

[ Any prompts or random things you'd like to do with Iggy? Go for it! If you'd like to chat or plot or just have questions in general, feel free to message me on plurk at ukannotwin! ]

2

[gourmandofthestars]

[The caterpillar naga who was passing by stops when he hears a voice call out and turns in Iggy’s direction.]

Huh? Are you talking to me?

[He blinks, looking around to confirm if there was anyone else he could have been talking to.]

Sam Vimes | Discworld

[burntcrunchybits]

[ 1 | Who watches the watchman? ]
[Waking in a strange place is... well, it's less common than it was once upon a time. It's a lot more difficult to do when you aren't drunk, and it's a lot more difficult to do when you have to be home by six o'clock sharp. Besides, that's the kind of shenanigans up with which Lady Sybil Ramsay will not put. So, all right, he doesn't wake up in strange places that often.]

[It's still an occupational hazard, is the point. And, oddly enough, that place is quite often a broom closet. Funny how that works out.]

[None of which means he's not taking the situation seriously, because a copper who doesn't take weirdness seriously is a copper who has a limited amount of waking up left to do. Vimes clambers to his feet, patting himself down, taking stock. (His head doesn't ache. Now that's odd.) Then, once he's damn sure he's got all his limbs and, more importantly, his badge, he glares one more time at the door, staring it down, puts his hand to the handle, and opens it.]

[Colour smacks him in the face like a sock full of sand. Ankh-Morpork is a colourful city, in its own way, but usually the sort of "colourful" that's preceded by a good few ellipses. As in, "Ah, that Vimes. He's a... colourful character."]

[This is actually colourful. If he squinted, he's pretty sure he could see all the colours of the rainbow in the smears of buzzing light. Probably all eight. This smacks of wizards.]

Oh, hell.

[He sounds more tired than anything. The ground under his paper-thin cardboard soles feels all wrong. The air smells... well, it doesn't smell like Ankh-Morpork. Some might even say it smells clean. The hot dogs being slowly rotated over there look like they might contain meat of the sort with four legs. He's a long, long way from home.]

Sybil's going to go spare.


[ 2 | I do. All the time. ]
[He's lost. He's alone. Six o'clock is creeping up around the corner with a cosh. But of one thing, Samuel Vimes is perfectly, unshakeably sure.]

[He is a policeman.]

[Time, he decides, to do some godsdamned policing.]

[Commander Vimes has always had a very simple approach to detective work, which is to bypass it entirely wherever possible in favour of real investigations. On this occasion, he doesn't have a truncheon or a knuckleduster, but he still has a badge, and the knowledge that the innocent bystander is more of a hopeful suggestion than a fact.]

[In other words: find an innocent bystander, and twist their arm until you find out what they're guilty of.]

[Some people might be surprised by the ease with which he sidles up to humans and monsters alike, but that's because some people haven't been to Ankh-Morpork. There's no reason, in Vimes' experience, to alter your approach too much right off the bat. Regardless of colour, shape, and number of limbs, people is people, and they tend to have the same kinds of responses to a policeman with a threatening leer and his hands in his pockets.]

What's all this, then?


[ 3 | Ah, but who watches you? ]
[A policeman is a policeman, wherever he is, and a city's a city, wherever it is. He can actually feel himself relax, despite everything, when he steps out to find cracked pavements and dark (well, dark-ish) alleyways. The city is a living thing. It doesn't whisper, but it sure as hell shouts. He can work with this.]

[The pamphlet-bearers come as more of a surprise. He's not too bothered with the pamphlets themselves (it's difficult to share an office with Constable Visit for more than a week without developing selective pamphlet-blindness), but the people offering them...]

[They're friendly. Some of them have that edge he's used to - that buried, seething anxiety of someone really hoping you say oh, no, I couldn't possibly and bugger off - but not all. And they haven't even seen his badge. Something's very, very wrong here. The watchman inside him raises its lantern, peering into the brave new world that has such people in it.]

[There's a crime being committed here. He's not sure what, yet, but that part's better left to the lawyers. Right now...]

[There's a crime being committed. He looks the current would-be-friend up and down, considering what they're saying. This Lighthouse place sounds like the kind of crowd Sybil would move with. The worthy philanthropist types, the sort who'll hand out blankets and pat orphans on the head, or at least get their butlers to do it. If there's anyone who's got their fingers in the pie around here, that's the best place to look.]

[He sets out to follow the directions he's given, pausing only to growl at the person he just bumped into:] If you give me one more piece of paper, you're not going to like what I do with it, sunshine.


[ 4 | Still me, I'm afraid. ]
[[Hit me up at jormandugr with any other ideas, or just throw them at me!]]

3.

[grivences]

[ Robin also made her way to the Lighthouse, or at least the 38-8 Apartments, trying to see if enough time has elapsed since the last time she was conscious that the apartment Steve had set her up with is still there. Well, obviously it would still be there, apartments don't just vanish overnight. Or overmonth. Buildings aren't mutable that way. What she's trying to see is whether the apartment is still hers.

Turns out, it's not. Her time here as a centaur was somehow ephemeral and fleeting enough that they've already vacated what little personal belongings she'd managed to acquire in the month she'd spent here before. ]

Great... Square one.

[ And Steve isn't answering her emails. She doesn't know if he's avoiding her on purpose or if something's happened to him, but she's beginning to worry. So, she really isn't in the mood for the good samaritans trying to hook her up with pamphlet after pamphlet. She turns to go throw the newest one into the nearest trash can, when she accidentally bumps into someone. ]

Oh. I... wasn't going to give you anything. Unless you're secretly somehow a garbage can, which... I don't think you are.

Akihiro Kurata | Digimon Savers

[itsshowcrime]

[ Scenario One ]

Kurata was many things. A murderer. A mass murderer. A coward. And, as it turned out, somewhat claustrophobic. Or maybe his freak out in finding himself in a broom closet had something to do with his last memory being rent asunder by an inter-dimensional wave. It was a toss up, honestly.

Nevertheless, he managed to stumble his way out of the broom closet...with his foot stuck in the mop bucket. Growling, he kicked it away...and immediately felt the horrible pangs of hunger. Frantically, he looked around for answers as to where he was and for something to eat, and instead found himself in a mall.

He was just about to ask a passerby where he was, when instead, his nosed picked up the sizzling scent of a hotdog. Unable to help himself, he rushed over and plucked one right out of the hands of a patron at said hot dog stand, and crammed it into his mouth. Once he finished and swallowed it, he let out a pleased sigh...

...before the offended patron and stand owner demanded he pay for the dog he'd just eaten. Kurata angrily refused, and well...

Before long, he ended up fleeing from a horde of so-called "mannequins" who were chasing him for his transgression.

"S-someone help me...!"

[ Scenario Two ]

Well, at least Kurata is finally out of that mall. Not that it does him any good now that he's out and about in the city. It's like something from out of a history book, the way this city looks. And so Kurata is absolutely lost, wandering around looking lost and pathetic.

Eventually, he catches sight of a monster...and promptly screams his head off, immediately running for cover. He dashes into an alleyway and stops to breathe, clutching his chest. Just what kind of hellish place is this?! It's already as bad as the Digital World!

And what's more, that memory is still beating in his brain. The memory of his loss. His defeat. His humiliation, and...

... His death? Had...had he died...?!

Kurata let out a scream of frustration as he slammed his fist against the wall. "Damn you, Daimon Masaru...!"

Then, he screamed again, because the bricks had hurt his hand.

[ Scenario 3 ]

[ un: itsshowtime ]

First of all, none of those sound like good pets at all! They seem like creatures that should be exterminated for the good of all!

Second...I've never been one for pets at all, honestly. I had fish as a young child, and they all died within a week. Sorry little things weren't adaptable enough to survive. ]

2

[soft_shelled]

Normally Donnie keeps to himself, he is not a people person or in this case? A people slime but... The yelling, oh the yelling catches his attention during his leisurely wandering about the streets this day. So he oozes his way over to the alleyway and finds Kurata there, he doesn't quite make an effort to take on a form beyond some amorphous shape that's leaning on his shell as he watches the older man for a moment.

"Screaming isn't going to help, you know?" he says, just staying in the entrance of the alleyway and trying to look as non-threatening as a pile of goo can look.

Kiriko Kamori | Overwatch 2

[donutsfordinner]

3 - Network Shenanigans

< Glazed Donut >

Okay, cool, so this place has cryptids. I thought we were the local cryptids given y'know, but I guess we can share the spotlight.

Too bad none of these are leash trainable, who doesn't want to take their fur-bearing trout on a walk?

<galagamer>

[waitingforplayer2]

if you were able to find the groundhog without its shadow you could probably put it on a leash

but its shadow is pretty unpredictable so i wouldn't recommend it

Camilla Hect | The Locked Tomb

[devotions_casualty]

1

"SAFET--T-T----YYY FIIRRrrssssstththhhhhh"

[ The ambient background noise of the mall is interrupted without ceremony, as a knife is embedded directly into a mannequin's head.

All of the nearby humans turn to look at Camilla Hect, a lithe and dark-skinned young woman holding the hilt of the blade that's now causing a mess of plastic where the mannequin's face could be. Cam's instantly aware of at least a dozen set of eyes on her, and she turns to look back at them, as if to say, What? He started it.

Whatever magic was powering the mannequin comes to an end, as the doll hangs limply from her blade. But whatever magic powers the other mannequins nearby remains consistent, as their faceless heads are what turn to Camilla next.

Well, fuck.

Cam yanks the dagger out of the mannequin, and books it for the stairs - a flight that's about two seconds away from being hampered by the fact that the nearest stairs up are in fact the down escalator. ]

2

[ It's helpful that this place's inhabitants are handing out so many documents - and on real paper, too.

The pamphlets are sensationalist, contradictory, and full of impossible things. But the locals are really really insistent about handing them out. So the gray-garbed young woman can be seen hunched over on a bench, cross-referencing the pamphlets and making careful annotations in a small hand-sized book.

Occasionally she stares into space, distracted by thoughts of something. That's when she'll likely catch sight of you. If you're human, she'll simply raise an eyebrow. If you aren't, she'll freeze up entirely, taking in the sight of your impossible body. One hand goes to the hilt of her knife - just in case. ]

3

< scholar >
what is a pet?

1

[gitanes]

[Lila has a fraught relationship with helping people. She's not against it on principle. She doesn't believe that it's the rough equivalent of handing somebody a gun and pressing your forehead to the muzzle, at least not as much as she used to and not most of the time. But she also doesn't believe it's something anyone owes anyone. She doesn't give kindness for free, and almost never on first encounter.]

[So when the escalator is lit from below with a crackling, spitting light that quickly goes out only to be replaced by the smell of burning wire and rubber — well. Suffice it to say it's a mark of Lila's approval.]

[Camilla's quick eyes will catch the shadow, stretched thin and long, leaping like bolt lightning from the base of the now-still escalator to the mannequin in closest pursuit. The mannequin proceeds to stop on a dime, turn around to face its fellows, rip its arm off in one fell swoop, and take a somewhat mediocre batter's stance.]

Sigrud je Harkvaldsson | The Divine Cities

[dauvkind]

I. Shara, it happened again

This is not Old Bulikov.

That much was clear, as Sigrud opened the door of the closet he found himself in, the space cramped with his 6-and-a-half feet frame. Now he found himself blinking into too bright lights and too loud colors, looking baffled at an utterly alien place. He closed the door, opened it again, more carefully. Repeated the process after finally stepping out. Still, whatever shift in reality – and it must be such, no one had managed to drug him in a very long time – did not fix itself.

And he was getting hungry. After a irritated sigh at the door, he turned to the food, trying to spot something familiar. There only was one problem...
“Solars? I do not have any such 'solars'. A drekel, perhaps? Something of Kolkashtan?“

They don't want his currency. Sigrud can't blame them, he wouldn't either. The Dreylings in his home up in the north have long since got by without putting faces on little metal disks. In the true fashion of his ancestors, he nods politely at the vendor he'd talked to first, pretending to look around some more before deciding. So simple to slip a pastry into the pocket of his coat, hardly the first time applying this particular skill.

There was a moment of surprise at the guards hurling at him – could only be that, with such determination, for all they didn't look human to him. The next moment, Sigrud was darting for the oddly moving stairs, intend to at least get into a better fighting position.

II. To sail again

A chase, some troubles and a jump through a window later, Sigrud is outside the mall building, wincing at the glass shards stuck in him now. The bigger ones he pulls out while walking, intend to put as much space between him and any potential leftover follower as possible. Ignoring the stares, long used to standing out from his time on the Continent and Saypur, he trods on. Small injuries like this have never stopped him.

They do however encourage strangers to help, to ask if he is alright, try and push things onto him. The first ones he simply tells 'no' bruskly, still expecting a trap. But they don't give up. “Sir! You need a hospital! The Crowe Clinic will help you, please.” He snorts, still feeling fine. Maybe some pincers would be useful though, so finally he agrees to it: “Where?” What follows is a blabber of directions he barely remembers, yet he nods, turns into the indicated direction, just to finally be left in peace.

A little while later, it's clear there is no hospital anywhere near here, the area more reminding him of shadier business. Someone is following him in the shadows and he has no weapon. “A kingdom for a compass” he sighs, leaning weary against a street lantern to try and re-orientate himself.

III. How I hate codes

He opens the weird thing someone pushed onto him earlier. If not for the hefty weight making it a potential projectile, he would've discarded it right away, now he looks puzzled at what appears to be a paperless typewriter. Which, for the record, he can't stand either. It does look a little bit like a telegram operator, so he'll just try and see if it can connect him to the Ministry in Bulikov.

<> C-AMB REQ ASSIST STOP NEW PORTAL IN BULIKOV STOP

(OOC: New to Dreamwidth, not new to RP. Will match prose or brackets. Contat me under BlueLias with any issues!)

I

[gourmandofthestars]

Kirby, meanwhile, was riding on the escalator moving down the opposite direction when Sigrud and the parade of guards came barreling on by. What was all the fuss about? Seems awfully suspicious! Was someone in danger? As a member of W.E.B., protecting the citizens of Bavan was his job! Never mind he wasn’t technically old enough to be a field operative yet - this was an emergency! (Maybe.)

“Eh? Ehhh? What’s going on? Hey, are you okay?!” he turns and calls out to the scrambling man getting further and further away with each passing moment.

henry | fire emblem: awakening

[curseoclock]

i. safety last

Whoaaaa!

[ Oh, sorry, were the mannequins supposed to be unsettling? Because if anything, Henry seems extremely settled. He's circling one, watching as it keeps turning its head to follow him around. Honestly, these things... The lack of a face. The constant eyeless watching. The inhuman movements.

How cool is this?! ]

Hey, hey! [ He's definitely addressing the mannequin. All he gets, of course, is the same ol' "SAFETY FIRST" announcement. ] Aw, safety's way overrated, buddy! Don't you wanna come with me, instead?

[ is he trying to. befriend it.]

ii. mob injustice

[ So maybe you got a bit unlucky with the locals? Maybe you're getting chased, maybe you've managed to hide somewhere while some of them are looking for you. Either way, as things are getting a bit dicey, you'll get pulled away. Not... especially firmly, so it can't really be aid to be force. It cannot be emphasized enough how noodley these arms are. Still... where you're getting pulled seems better hidden.

Henry looks more amused than anything, despite -- is his hair a bit singed? ]

That was a close one! First angry mob?

iii. gotta pet 'em all

< cawsome > oh oh! a parasite sounds like the BEST pet! you'd never be closer to someone!

[ is. that a good thing... ]

< cawsome > can my answer be all of them though bc i want all of them

[itsshowcrime]

[ Kurata...definitely had issues with setting off the mob. Thankfully(?) he's being pulled out of it, gasping in surprise as Henry pulls him to safety(?). ]

Th-thank you so much! That mob...they looked like they were going to tear me apart...!!

Miles Morales | Marvel Universe/Spider-verse (cw: potential movie spoilers)

[beatemall]

Safety First

[Let's take it from the top:

It's not exactly weird for Miles to wake up where he doesn't remember being last, but considering the situation he was in versus this one? He would take waking up in a broom closet all day long. It doesn't really answer the why he's here, even if he's got the how-part down.

As he roams around, two things are made clear—this is some sort of retro mall, definitely not in New York, and also there's mannequins somehow walking around. They're... Weird. Very weird. The way they move reminds him of sentries in some game, or the sort a big organization would have if they were protecting something the public shouldn't know about.

But this is still a mall, which is public, and he sticks out like a sore thumb wearing his battle-worn spidey suit. So Miles decides to do what any normal guy would—it's time to find new digs.

He can be found around various shops trying clothes on and, if you're nearby, he might ask you how the bucket hat or windbreaker he's trying on looks. Once he decides on something, however, he'll try to buy it... Only to find his money doesn't work here. What?

Spider-man doesn't steal, that wouldn't be cool... But how else is he going to pay for this? If you're still around after he's asked your opinion of his clothing choice, he'll glance your direction apologetically.]

Multiverse, am I right? [Awkward laugh.] Got any of those solar things they're talking about?

Network

< KidArachnid >: so uh...
< KidArachnid >: anyone know which earth this is?
< KidArachnid >: like the number

safety first

[alexandercityborn]

[Aaron would do anything to not have to be in the mall. It's noisy, the mannequins throw themselves at him if he's not paying attention (though the insistence of his housemates on playing 'get down Mr. President' has made him more prepared for something surprising him by barreling into him) and he invariably ends up miserably leaving with things nearly identical to what he's wearing but in a different color.

The stranger struggling to buy things at the till makes Aaron straight, a horn grazing the ceiling tiles of the store. He slopes over, glancing down at the register.]

I got you. You that fresh they ain't even given you some cash yet?

[Aaron digs for his wallet, eyeing the damaged spider-suit.]

Jeez. The suit meant to look like you're bleeding?

Ken Ichijouji | Returning (nephilim, tho he never got to be one before....thanks swap event)

[ourtomorrow]

[ scenario one w/some monsterification! returning boy returns ]

I already said, I didn't take -

[ But it's too late, there's a mannequin chasing this tall young boy! Who grabs a bucket from a cleaning android and kicks it like a soccer ball at his pursuer, hoping to buy himself some time.

Now he has two mannequins chasing him.

If he encounters anyone on his dash to the exit, he'll urge them: ]

It's me they want. Get out of the way!

[ He also, um. He appears to be in the middle of sprouting wings. ]

[ scenario three ]

< un: kichijouji7 >

I don't have experience with those animals, or with keeping a pet.....So I can't participate. Sorry.

[ scenario four ]

[ Ken is out jogging.

Ken is out jogging in the middle of the night.

Ken is out jogging in the middle of the night, though perhaps "out" is a misnomer - he's staying with you, wherever your character lives, and in desperation to figure out what to do with himself now that he cannot sleep, but cannot go out in the dark, he's gone for a jog up and down the hallways. He's trying to move as silently as he can, so as not to wake anyone, but.....He's still a boy with angel wings and a faint glow around his halo. He's a roving nightlight.

Who will pull up short if encountered. ] Ah-!

[ OH NO ]

<FLY>

[jumpie]

have u ever wanted a pet?

Jim Moriarty | BBC!Sherlock (cw: possible suicide mention in 1st prompt)

[crazyequalsgenius]

1. Shopping, by Barenaked Ladies
"Clever and unique remark about coming out of the closet, et cetera."

Jim rolls his eyes as he closes the door behind him and adjusts the lapels of his Westwood suit. Both he and it are absolutely covered in blood, and he reaches up to rub a hand along his jaw. Curious.

Breathing in, he assesses his body: working order, no injuries. Biting the inside of his lip yields pain. There are colors everywhere, and he registers red, so that's two marks against a dream. The thin, short, dark-haired fellow steps out into the center of the hallway and absolutely beams.

"FINALLY!" He exalts at the top of his lungs, spinning in a circle, arms wide. "SOMETHING INTERESTING!"

2. Mr. Capgras Encounters A Secondhand Vanity, by Will Wood
Some volunteer had handed him a tote full of stuff and a bundle of brochures, and he'd listened to every single bit of chatter around him: the other new people freaking out, the locals and their varying opinions. When one of them, a slightly homely woman in her early forties with a t-shirt that says "Not All Monsters" in home-stenciled letters, comes up to him and offers her help, he smiles, calculated helplessness in his eyes. A brief conversation later, he's several solars richer, and all it cost him was a visit to the woman once he'd transformed, so she could have herself her Very Own Monster Friend.

The moment she's out of sight, his expression goes back to something that would almost look dead and disinterested, if it weren't for the spark of hunger in his eyes as he goes back to alternating between watching the people come and go from the Lighthouse, and reading the new literature, idly manipulating a solar back and forth across his knuckles. If someone meets his eyes, Jim will smile, drop the current pamphlet, and twiddle his fingers in a wave.

"Hiiiiii~"

3. [CleverMoniker]

A: On Pets
I always thought humans were pretty fun pets, myself.

B: Netpost
Let's play a game. First person to tell me something truly interesting about the Fog God wins a favor. One favor. No limit. And ... go!

3A. cw kink mention.

[redtapes]

No one asked what gets you off, buddy.

Saul Goodman/Jimmy McGill|Better Call Saul/Breaking Bad|Reserved

[its_all_good_man]

SCENARIO 1: 80s Mall

[Saul Goodman woke up in...a linen closet? Was he drugged or something? He just laid there in confusion before is stomach emitted a long, grugling snarl. He grimaced in slight pain. He was starving. He sat up and felt a wave of dizziness wash over him. He almost fell backwards back to the floor but caught himself on the wall.He stood on shaky legs and grabbed the door handle, pushing the door open.]

[As soon as the former lawyer opened the door, he was bombarded with neon, 1950s fashion and...androids? This was turning into an odd day. He opened stepped out of the broom closet and wandered the mall. He felt the cold eyes of the androids watching his every move closely. It made him anxious and feel out of place. His nose caught the smell of food and he followed it to a hot dog stand. Bronzing sausages rolled on a warm roller and his mouth started to water. He looked up at the android manning the stand]

I'll take one please!

[He was disappointed to find that the only currency the android would take was something called "Solars." Saul's American dollar was no good here. Saul frowned, his stomach growled hard and painfully.]

Come on, Can't you help a hungry man out?

SCENARIO 2: No Luck? Try the City!

[Saul left the mall and entered a bustling city. People were moving about their daily lives. Likely going to work or on errands. At least, that's what Saul assumed. He walked with his hands in his pockets and looked at the people around him. Some refused to look at him, others glared and cursed at him. Saul couldn't figure out what made these people so fearful him.]

[As he walked, he passed a group of people. One shoved a pamphlet in his hand that read: "What To Expect When You're Expecting (To Turn Into A Monster)”, another gave him a laptop and others gave him clothes and a sandwich and water. He was confused but accepted all of these things. He was hungry and, frankly, too nervous and confused to ask why he was being handed these things.]

[He saw a park with some empty benches and hurried over to set all this stuff down and eat the sandwich. Maybe give these aching knees a break for a few minutes.]


SCENARIO 3: Computers in the Park

[The former lawyer sat on a park bench near a fountain and ate his sandwich. It was ham and cheese. It wasn't bad. He washed it down with the water he was given. He cracked open the old laptop to see what was about.]

[ENTER NAME]

ItsAllGoodman

[WELCOME ItsAllGoodman TO THE NETWORK

[Saul clicked around the Network and scrolled to the following post:]

WELCOME TO RSDOS.
PRESS F1 TO COMPOSE POST.

*** TODAY’S TOP POST ***

018.07.154.55 Which is the better pet, a fur-bearing trout or a Kulen parasite? Or a timeloop groundhog? Ooh or maybe one of those fish with the big saw blades? C'mon, we've got so many cool animals here! Discuss!

[Saul chuckled softly at this question but thought about it before he typed up a response.]

Well, being a goldfish father, I have always been partial to fish but I have always wanted something fuzzy to pet too. I would say the fur-bearing trout would be the best pet. All the beauty and simplicity of a fish but you can pet it like a cat or dog! Wet fur would feel a bit odd though.

SCENARIO 4: You're Scum, Goodman!

[Saul felt sick to his stomach. He wanted to throw up. His stomach was turning into knots. He slung his legs over his bed and found that his legs were jello. Literally. Not only were they shaking and he couldn't get his footing, they literally appeared to be bright pink, translucent jello.]

What the hell...?

[This was freaky. Saul stood, which ended up being a mistake. He fell forward and landed on the floor with a wet 'SPLAT.' He pushed himself up on his jello-looking hands. Pink liquid was left under him where he fell on the floor. He frowned. He hoped it wasn't hard to clean off the floor.]

[He felt himself slide up and he staggered over to a mirror to look at himself. He saw his whole body was a translucent jello-like substance. Even his hair and clothes was jello. He shook and found his whole body quivering like gellitan. He was leaving a small puddle of pink goop on the floor under him.]

You really are a scum bag like they say.

1

[crazyequalsgenius]

[leaning on a nearby pillar, Jim holds up a hand, one gleaming solar pinned between his index and middle fingers.

the fact that his (very nice) suit is covered in blood doesn't seem to bother him a bit, because he's smiling, his tone pleasant]

Need a little loan?

Prelati | Senki Zesshou Symphogear

[alchegist]

[ Scenario Three ]

[un: frogsarethebest]

Those all sound incredibly interesting. I'd love to experiment on them. As for pets...hm. I'm not really one for pets. I'm more interested in familiars; they don't act in unexpected ways.

[ Scenario Four ]

[ Whether Prelati had trouble adjusting to the process of becoming a monster was unknown. The fact of the matter was, it had come and gone, and she had fully transformed into a demon as a result.

That is, if you could even call her a proper demon. She was more like an imp, really, with how tall she was. The appearance of horns, claws, batwings and talons had done nothing to change the dry look on her face, either...that is, until she found something that was interesting to her.

Namely, the demon's possession power. For some reason, it compelled her to act more wickedly, which was what she did by becoming intangible and taking control of a nearby man's body. With a sadistic grin on his face, she told the man's significant other off, and then marched off on his own to fulfill Prelati's indulgences.

Oh, how she'd missed this! Candies! Cakes! Wine! Why had she ever given them up, she wondered? And this way, she could do whatever she wanted without any cost to herself.

She liked being a demon, she decided. ]

<kichijouji7>

[ourtomorrow]

....."Experiment"....?

Loona | Helluva Boss

[hellhathnofurry]

[Scenario One]

"M-miss, you have to pay for th-URK!"

[That strangled noise is the shopkeeper being well, strangled. By a strange-looking goth girl wearing a tacky leather jacket. In her free hand, she has some kind of beef jerky. She's practically snarling.]

I don't have to do SHIT! I don't even know what a solar is, asshole! I just know that I'm starving and I don't know where the satan fucking Hell I am!

[She shoves the poor guy into a wall, before turning to anyone looking...]

What are you looking at?!

[Scenario Four - well, werewolf!]

[Somewhere on the streets, not paying attention, is a dog girl, who at a glance seems like she's been here for a while. Or at least transformed into a monster for a while. She's texting away on her phone. Grumbling and trying to call someone.]

Dad - fuck, Blitz! Answer your damn phone!

[She may bump into you, and after the initial glare, she calms down.]

Sorry. Didn't see you.

scenario one

[anarchnid]

[There's a very lanky young man wearing an equally tacky awesome leather jacket. He holds his hands up.]

Woah there, luv. Not lookin' at anyfink. Relax.

[there has never been a more British person that has ever lived]

Cal Zabo | MCU | OTA

[redhandedtailor]

iii.

<DW>
Timeloop groundhog? Like the movie? Honestly I don’t think I can support the tradition of Groundhog Day as an animal care professional. The amount of stress put on that poor thing every year alone.

For pets stick to domesticated and safe. Cats, dogs, fish. Birds but only if you’ve really got time on your hands.

< AttitudeArachnid >

[therightband]

so what you're saying is the fur-bearing trout is fair game?

Gwen Stacy | Marvel Universe/Spider-Verse (potential spoilers for Across the Spider-Verse)

[therightband]

[Scenario one, A]

['Let's do this one more time, shall we?'

When Gwen awakens in a cluttered little closet, decked out in full Spider-Woman attire and unable to see in the darkness, her first instinct is to panic. Her hands knock into shelves, her elbow hits the wall hard and a mop clatters to the ground behind her. And if you happen to pass this closet, perhaps you'll hear the noise, along with an unintelligible yell that's the perfect mixture of frustration and panic.

Once she's succeeded in finding a door and opening it, she stumbles into the mall's hall with several unsteady steps on the balls of her feet. Then she comes to an immediate stop, her head raising as she takes in her surroundings. Neon lighting, escalators, stores? Where did she...? Her arm raises as she checks her wrist, but the watch that's meant to be there is gone. Her head swivels around with a jerky movement to check whether she dropped it in the closet, but it isn't there. Nobody she knows and nothing she really knows is here.

She turns to the first person she does see, and while it's almost impossible to spot the panic on her face behind the mask, her voice holds a particular quiver to it.]

You. Where are we?


[Scenario one, B]

[Trying not to draw too much attention to herself, Gwen has shed her Spider-Woman outfit. Rather, she's covered it up with a blouse (hoodie still coming up underneath the collar and pulled up over her head) and baggy pants. Her ballet shoes have been replaced with neon-colored sneakers. The fashion in this place is wild. There are two options.

1) She can be found in the shadows of the food court, making the oddest jerking move with her hand and wrist whenever a nearby hotdog vendor's back is turned. Nothing happens. Her webs aren't working, which is a shame, because how else is she going to snatch a hotdog without any money?

2) She can be found behind the mall, where there's virtually no people around, pressing her hand against the outer wall of the building. Nothing happens. Her hand stays pressed against the surface for a few seconds, then retracts again.

Whichever option you choose, you might just hear her mutter.]

Come on. Pull it together, Gwen.


[Scenario three]

< AttitudeArachnid >: timeloop groundhog? seriously?
< AttitudeArachnid >: and sawblade fish? is that the best you've got here? lame.
< AttitudeArachnid >: might as well not get any pets at all then.

B2

[beatemall]

Gwen?

[The name is mimicked, in a likely very familiar sounding voice. One that, perhaps, she might've been hoping to hear soon, but definitely not like this.

Miles, on the other hand, is full of a mixture of both apprehension and relief. He didn't think he would be seeing her again so soon, not with the way that things left off—but he can't say he's not happy that it turned out this way. If he's going to be stuck anywhere, he's just happy that it's with someone familiar.]

I thought I saw you earlier, so I followed you out— I mean, I didn't follow you like some weirdo, but—

[Stop. Foot in mouth is only getting worse. Miles does, however, stand there awkwardly smiling at her as he brings a hand up to rub at the back of his neck.]

When did you get here?

Miguel O'hara / Spider-Man 2099 | Spider-verse

[darkgarfield]

[ ooc: There are no movie spoilers in the prompts, but please let me know if you're cool with those!

Due to Miguel's knowledge of the multiverse, he also knows a lot about the lives of most MCU/Sony Superheroes. I don't want to ruin anyone's fun; please let me know if you are cool with Miguel recognizing your character as a being that exists in the multiverse (not as a movie/comic/etc character) or if you'd rather have no kind of fourth wall shenanigans happen. Here's also a helpful opt-out. ]


🕷 ↠ Scenario 1 -A | Mall | CW: Vague description of nakedness, cursing in Spanish

[ It happens so fast that Miguel doesn't really have time to prevent it or even process it. His suit, a state-of-the-art technology made entirely of unstable molecules, glitches the second he regains consciousness, flickering and then disappearing out of existence.

Now, finding himself in a strange world is not new for Miguel, but it's the first time that he ends up buck ass naked in the middle of a strange place, sore and disoriented. He can't see much in the darkened room, which is the first clue that something's wrong with his body. It only takes him a second to realize his other enhanced senses are gone, that he can't bare his fangs or extend his talons. ]

Pero que coño...!? Joder. Lyla, are you there? [ His watch is with him but is as good as dead, and doesn't react at all, no matter how much Miguel pokes and prods at it, trying to make contact with the headquarters. He is really having such a terrible week.

He eventually finds the handle and opens the door a smidge, on alert. The moment he peeks outside the closet, the lights and colors practically make his eyes bleed. He so does not vibe with this 80s mallcore aesthetic, dios mio. The door is shut again quickly, and Miguel leans his naked back against it and closes his eyes, pinching the bridge of his nose to stall the incoming headache. Okay, so, he's seen a food court and clothing stores. That's a start.

He checks the outside a few more times and waits until the nearest shop is empty of people, or as empty as it gets, before hastily moving inside it as fast as he can. He might not have his powers anymore, but he still has stupidly long legs and good reflexes. There's a chance he gets spotted by one of the creepy android mannequins, but Miguel can't bring himself to care. He grabs the first jacket available and wraps it around his middle to at least maintain a modicum of decency. He will worry about the money to pay for all this when his ass is clothed.

There are really not a lot of clothing options available when you are 6'9" and built like a brick house, however. Anybody walking into the shop will find a really tall, really muscular, and also really grumpy-looking man checking the available pants to see if one of them might fit him. He's also grumbling under his breath. ]

Don't they have anything here that does not look like a unicorn vomited on it?

🕷 ↠ Scenario 1 - B | Still at the Mall | CW: 80s fashion

[ Some really embarrassing time later, Miguel has finally gotten something to wear, even if it's less than ideal. The jeans hug his legs way too tightly for his liking, leaving little to the imagination, with their only saving grace being that they are black instead of some jarring color. The same can't be said for the shirt, which does fit him comfortably, but it looks like Miguel has raided Magnum P.I's closet.

For lack of more elegant footwear, he's wearing a pair of black sneakers that Miguel wouldn't even have tried on when he was 10 years younger. He got them for two reasons. The first one is that beggars can't be choosers. The second is that sneakers are a damn good shoe to wear when you need to, let's say, outrun half a dozen mannequins chasing after you because you didn't pay for any of the clothes you are wearing.

So that's how his day is going.

Miguel turns down a corridor, not really looking where he is going, only trying to get out of the mall and away from the creepy mannequins. He could fight them, but he doesn't feel like adding 'property damage' to his new, growing criminal record. So he's playing road runner instead, taking another turn behind a pillar...and directly body slams against someone he hadn't expected to find there.

Well shit, sorry. Are you still alive buddy?]

🕷 ↠ Scenario 3 | Network

[ Finally, something closer to the technology he's familiar with. It looks downright prehistoric to him, but it's better than nothing. If he doesn't find a way back home soon, he's going to start biting people. He doesn't bother with a funny network nickname, because, of course, he doesn't: ]

< o'hara >: Is anyone here familiar with Spider-Man?
< o'hara >: If yes, where can I find him?

1-B

[summonthesuit]

[Steven doesn't really visit the mall too often. He's more of a 'Thursday morning market' kind of person when it comes to shopping, with nice fresh food to eat and clothes that have more heart to them. Still, every so often you just need an item that only the mall will sell, and a walkman is one of those things.

He tends to stick close to walls and pillars as he walks; an instinctive move to stay out of people's way and avoid crowds as much as possible. The last thing he wants to do is have to cross directly through a group of friends, or bump into someone. AND YET. Somehow, bumping into someone is exactly what happens, as an enormous figure suddenly moves around the pillar by his side. If he'd hit this guy any harder, he could've probably broken his nose on rock-hard chest. Now he's just sore and alarmed.

He takes a few steps back, both hands moving to his face to cover the pain. Trying to identify who he just collided with, his eyes swerve up- and up- This guy is like seven feet tall.]

Uh... Sorry. I'm sorry.

Jonathan Strange | Jonathan Strange & Mr. Norrell | Slight CW for madness.

[madforaspell]

A. Awakening

Jonathan shot upright as soon as he awoke. What the devil was he doing on the floor? Had he been asleep? How? The last thing he remembered was running out the door of Mr. Norrell's library with thoughts of Arabella in his head.

Arabella!

Spinning around and tripping over the mop handle, he grappled for the door and stumbled through. He cried out, throwing an arm over his eyes as he was immediately blinded by strange artificial light. This was certainly not Hurtfew Abbey. And his time in the eternal darkness of the Fairy's curse had left him unaccustomed to light. He blindly too a few steps, groaning and blinking as he tried to make sense of everything.

B. Safety last

Once he got his wits about him (at least, as many as he had left), Strange cautiously made his way through the odd building. He tried to avoid speaking to people just yet. Until he knew otherwise, it was safe to assume he was in Fairy, and he had no way of knowing how the inhabitants would react, especially considering that he and Norrell had just assisted in committing regicide. Hunger gnawed at his stomach, but he couldn't remember the last time he ate, so that was to be expected. In addition, eating anything in Fairy was bound to get one trapped there.

An unusual figure with hollow eyes turned to look at him. He gave it a polite nod and tried to continue past.

"Safety First."

Confused, he turned to look at it. "I beg your pardon? Are you addressing me?"

The figure turned more towards him, taking a jerky step in his direction.

"I'm sorry, I mean no offense." He held up a hand, stepping away from the strange creature. Unfortunately, he wasn't looking where he was going and bumped right into someone else.

C. Stranger in a Strange Strange Land

The world beyond the odd building was somehow worse. He was overwhelmed in an instant. People thrusting papers at him, staring, loud noises, bright lights and colors he'd never beheld before. Not to mention the metal carriages that seemed to move without assistance of man or beast. He stumbled and pushed his way through, waving his hands around his head as if he were trying to ward off an invisible swarm of bees.

"Beg pardon. No thank you. Excuse me..."

It wasn't long before his polite words vanished and he simply shoved past someone with an armful of clothes. It was too much for him to handle. Turning, his eyes fell on a display of pineapples in a grocery store. They widened in inexplicable horror and he stepped backwards into the street, directly into the path of an oncoming car.

Wildcard

[Any other ideas? Throw them here!]

Safety Last - is he remembering 4th Wall?

[pageofstaves]

Childermass had gone to the mall in search of some of the things people had told him would get glitter out of his ... well, everything. One of the Lighthouse's totes was over his shoulder, already holding a bottle of coconut oil, several lint rollers, and a clean new pair of black trousers. He was scanning the list in his hand - acetone, where was he supposed to find a chemist? - when he became an obstruction to a very familiar face ... again.

"Strange!"

r. j. maccready | fallout 4

[heckofashot]

i. mall.

[ Maccready wakes with a start, jolting out of his slumber with a sharp inhale. Falling asleep isn't something he recalls in the first place; he would never merely drift off when he's supposed to be keeping watch, and that alone is enough to pull him to full consciousness, hand reaching subconsciously for his rifle only to find it missing. Panic begins to rise in his chest but not quite take over, complaints already forming on his tongue, he's told them not to touch his things… He looks around, instead searching for the familiar presence who might have helped themselves to his weapon whilst he slept, took it upon themselves to keep watch in his stead.

Two things become immediately apparent in quick succession: first, that he is very much alone, and second, this is not the same supply closet as the one they'd settled into for the night. No holes in the walls, the door hasn't been barricaded shut with a rusted old desk, more cleaning supplies than you could shake a stick at. It's clean, too, practically clinical compared to anything he's seen in his time in the commonwealth, fills his mind with images of the pristine walls inside the Institute.

Now, the slow creeping panic begins to set in, and he pulls the door open; creeps outside where he's met with a wall of colour, assaulting his eyes and drawing his attention in more directions than he can keep up with. Standing stock still outside the doorway, he sticks out like a sore thumb coated in a layer of grime as he is, jaw falling slack as he takes everything in.

Strange contraptions adorn posters, scents like nothing he's ever experienced fill the air and turn his stomach. Against his better judgement he follows the sounds and scents towards the source of the food, is prompted by someone looking at him very oddly that the snack he's currently eyeing will cost five solars — whatever those are — and gets an even stranger look when the only thing he can produce from his pockets are a handful of bottle caps. A dejected frown forms on his features. ]

Never mind… I was just browsing anyway.

[ Trudging away from the food vendors and further into the facility — because that's what he's decided this must be — he can't help but wonder if this is what it was like, before the war, before the bombs. Mostly, though, he's convinced he's been taken into some sort of experimental vault, or that it's all a hallucination from a bad batch of Jet. Could very well be both, he'd heard rumour of what happened in Vault 106.

The first glimpse he gets of the patrol has his skin crawling, their static-riddled voices have him convinced they're Synths, and he's ready to believe every shady thing he's ever heard from the drunkards in Diamond City. Whatever they are, and wherever this is, he doesn't want to stick around, and so he makes a run for it and bolts towards the nearest thing that looks like an exit.

It's easy to spot him, treating the situation like it's some sort of stealth escape mission, crouching low to avoid the synthetic guards and hugging the walls closely, moving cautiously through this unfamiliar facility — and then startling when a pair of doors open automatically as he shimmies along, leaving him to stumble backwards into the storefront and flat on his ass. ]

Gotta be fu—freaking kidding me…

ii. city.

[ Eventually, one way or another, he makes it out of the bright colours and noise that was the mall and follows surprisingly neat streets full of intact buildings to what he assumes is the city of this place. It's bustling, with more people milling around and going about their business than he thinks he's ever seen in one place, though they're all about as friendly as what he's used to. They're not shooting at him, at least, which can only be considered a bonus.

It's definitely bizarre, though, it resonates with stories he's heard of pre-war life. Briefly, he's mesmerised by the sight of actual functioning cars, with shiny coats of paint, watches as they speed down roads. He even pauses by one that's stalled to get a closer look, but the nervous glances in his direction force him to pull himself together, and he moves on. As he continues his trek deeper into the built-up city, on more than one occasion he almost finds himself flattened beneath the tyres of those shiny cars, horns blaring at him as he steps out into the street attempting to find someone, anyone, who will spare him a damn minute and tell him what the fuck is going on. ]

Miss—

[ Barely a word out of his mouth towards a woman with a stroller and a chubby toddler and the woman all but shrieks as he approaches, it's a jarring reaction, he thinks, maybe a little melodramatic, but it draws the attention of more eyes, they quickly disperse and move on, but one man chooses to step in, lumbering over towards them. Compared to Maccready's wiry frame, he's a solid mass of muscle and definitely a good five or six inches taller. Even though he doesn't appear to be threatening, seemingly only interested in playing mediator, Maccready is more than familiar with this type of guy and raises both his hands, backing away as the snippets of conversation about unfortunate newcomers and monsters reach his ears.

The commotion, short-lived as it may have been, has a man with a wicked glint in his eyes rushing over to Maccready's side, and with no regard for personal space begins waving pamphlets about in his face. They move so fast and close to his eyes he can't make out the words, though he groans all the same, pulling back as best he can. ]

Look, whatever you're preaching or selling, I'm not interested. [ A beat, and then louder. ] Hey, wait, give me that.

[ Catching sight of the illustration on the paper, he swipes for it, squinting at the humanoid figure with wings and a massive tail that looks like something plucked off of a radscorpion. He's never seen mutants like this before. ]

you better watch out (i)

[fateschosen]

[Shopping at the mall is an atrocious and arduous task, but the clothes — as much work as they take to fashion into anything suitable — are unlike anything else in the peninsula. Every few months, Diavolo manages to muster up precisely enough energy to make the pilgrimage, and the process is usually uneventful. None would approach him to cause trouble, after all — not on purpose, anyway.

Today, fate is not on his side. Oh, he checks out without issue. He gathers his bags of ill-fitting fabric that will soon be repurposed into something wearable, and he makes his way out. Unfortunately, someone activates the automatic sensor before he is given the opportunity to, and then said someone stumbles backwards into the shop and crumples at his feet.]

Really?

[MacCready is graciously granted approximately three seconds to react before a boot will be nudged against his back. Move.]

Alan Wake | Alan Wake/Control (Remedy Connected Universe)

[drowningman]

scenario one

[A supply closet.

A supply closet?

Well... it is, in its own way, an in-between - a constant across different times and places, a space where things exist but people simply come and go from as needed. It isn't the most thematically consistent with everything else he's been through, so it's odd, but there's so much about his time in The Dark Place that has become murky - plus he's had temporary amnesia before upon escaping that cold dark hell - that he shrugs it off as a necessity of something he wrote to get himself out that he's simply forgotten.

What greets him as he opens the door and steps out? A shock, in the way the lights and colors hit his eyes enough to ache, causing him to wince and squeeze them shut a moment. He opens them back up slowly, a hand hanging over his brow to lessen the initial intensity as his eyes adjust. The overwhelming sights and sounds and smells hit him like a crushing wave, making him nauseous as it's all so much so soon after being trapped for a decade in a world of almost nothing safe the occasional attempt at comfort made almost but not quite real.

He needs three things, three great and singular comforts in this particular kind of overwhelm which was very familiar from many morning afters of parties where he'd been too wild and reckless: sunglasses, headache meds, and coffee. Eating is not on the menu no matter how hungry he might be until these three things are achieved.]

1a
[Between the time Alan spends wandering the space of the mall to find sunglasses to browsing through the frustratingly zany, bright plastic-framed collection across the racks, he takes in the very 80s environment he's in with equal parts childhood nostalgia and frustration. A great era for horror fiction, an absolutely awful era for fashion in his opinion. He finds a pair of large, round-framed sunglasses reminiscent of Miami Vice to settle with - they look awful but the large real-estate of the lenses does reduce the amount of light that would hit his eyes so it's a trade-off he's willing to deal with - and takes them to the counter to pay for them. Surely the cash in his wallet will be fine, since this is 80s America (right?), and the US dollar hasn't changed that much that the cashier will notice and turn him away...

Or so he thought, when the currency is rejected.]

What do you mean you I can't pay with this? [His eyes narrow, brows furrowed in disbelief.] What is this, Anywhereville, America? So you should take US Dollars, right? ["No, it isn't, and no, we do not."

Alan's mouth drops open, hanging there in a mix of frustration and confusion. Hot with rage yet also cold with terror at the implications, he begins to sweat and pace in front of the counter, muttering to himself to try and think, remember, walk himself back up to whatever process he MUST have written about to get here, to GET OUT of The Dark Place - but he was trying to get home so WHY would he be somewhere else - another ANOTHER world?! Why?

The cashier appears confused, and as Alan continues to pace, looking more agitated by the second, the cashier appears to become a bit concerned. "Sir...?" Alan doesn't respond, -] and why would I have come back to the 80s? Was I trying to go back to an important moment in my childhood? A paradoxical formative moment that I needed to be there for to influence my younger self otherwise I wouldn't have grown up to be a writer, thus causing the me in my current reality to never be there? If so then, [- so they look past Alan to someone next in line or passing by the store entrance as if to ask for some assistance.]

1b
[Sunglassless, defeated in ways he did not imagine he could feel defeated after everything he's been through, he shuffles almost blindly against the growing migraine to the food court. At the very least there, maybe, he can appeal to the charity of someone there. He looks across the vendors set up there for one that sells coffee, and approaches someone in line there.

He looks like absolute shit, eyes open to the absolute minimum to gaze through at the person he's talking to, with deep bags under his eyes and a few messy strands of hair clinging to his still somewhat sweaty brow.]

Hey - you would happen to have some painkillers and some spare change so I could get a coffee, would you? [He puts on his best attempt, under these conditions, at his TV appearance personality voice: charming and personable with a touch of self-deprecating humor.] I've got a hangover from hell, [A lie, sort of] and my money's no good here.

scenario three

<a.wake> I read the pamphlet. In all my retrospectives and writings about living a horror story, a creature feature is not what I had in mind. Does anyone know if you can change the genre here?

Am I joking? No. Okay a little, but I am 100% serious.

It's a long story.

< CCC-REDHORSE > | also can I just say what an A+ username that is oh my goodness

[gobo_projection]

Ummmm

Were you in a book before? :0

Because this is real it's not a book. But there's probably a world that's a book somewhere, so I feel like I have to ask...

(Were you in a horror story? I'm sorry then, those normally don't get even sort of happy endings :/ )

Luffy | One Piece | super late to the party but here

[couldntsaveone]

It hurts. No, like, he actually hurts. Luffy's felt hurt before but not like this, not since he was young. It's not the same kind of hurt as being stabbed. It's worse, somehow.

Being beaten and grabbed when he was stealing food was one thing but actually feeling the physical blows is completely new to him. He's not used to that, not at all. He still took them just fine, all things considered, but it actually hurt. It was the first sign that things were different here. The second was not being able to stretch like he wanted to. As in, not at all.

What was happening to him? How had he lost his Devil Fruit powers? Weren't those supposed to stick with him, you know, until he died?

There's too many questions, not enough answers, and he just wants food. Stumbling out of the crazy mall place thingyagig, he isn't sure what to think about finally finding people who don't want to beat him up. Not that he fully understands what he did wrong by stealing food. He's been doing that since he was a kid. Someone hands him a laptop and bag, which sure, whatever, he'll carry that. But what really excites him and makes him happy is the food.

Whoa, food, awesome! I'm starving, thanks! Where is this place? It's nothing like the Grand Line I know.