TDM #003

[bequiet]

TEST DRIVE MEME
You wake, standing. A thick, muddy red dust coats your skin and clothes - it sticks to your tongue and blocks your vision. Inhale and it chokes you, exhale and your breath puffs out in front of your face in a transparent maroon cloud. It tastes of copper, tangy and harsh. Movement is difficult, every limb tingles and aches. Look to your left, your right. Evenly spaced in each direction stands another person indistinguishable in every way from the next. You're disoriented and lethargic, unable to grasp onto a single thought. A pinprick of light blooms ahead and grows steadily larger; a door has opened.

Hands grip your wrists, push at the small of your back and guide you out of the darkness into a room with four walls and a thin, sagging ceiling. The plaster is peeling, the air is musty, and the floor is slick. White plastic piping juts up from the center and curves into multiple spouts, clean water flowing in uneven streams. Those hands pull your clothes off and clear the dust from your body, redress you in handsewn jumpsuits.

A finger is pressed to your lips. Kind eyes meet your own and a single word is whispered - hush.

Led out of the room in a line, you’re taken down a short hallway and into another, much larger room. There’s a woman waiting for you there, a child hugging her leg, and a cloth bag in her hands. She reaches in and pulls out a device, passes one to each of you. Once finished, she begins to move both hands in graceful gestures, a language. One of the people who helped you lifts their device and the screen lights up, tracks the woman’s hands. Letters appear on the screen and you understand the device’s purpose. She tells you what she knows and it’s not much.

This world is haunted. Noise attracts them, so it is not allowed. Communication is through body language, soundless writing, and the device. She tells you that your feet must be light and your mouth never used. There is a community outside these doors, where you can survive together, but only if you agree to one thing: complete and total silence. You'll have time to talk it over. Acceptance allows you to journey outside. The ground is marked in pathways of sand, lining the paths to each building and everywhere in between. You notice that the locals hold their devices always, aloft and glance to it often. It will not vibrate or make a sound to signal a message.

Notices appear. Rules. Guidelines. Feet on the sand and never anywhere else. To open a door you brush your fingers along the hinges - oiled and you may enter. If not, take the brush from the can sitting nearby and coat the metal with the dark liquid. You're to settle into your new home.

Caught me unawares
Content Warnings: Confusion, disorientation
Themes: Survival, horror, it's like groundhog day

The ending of the floor has caught me unawares. This must be the reason why I’m falling down the stairs.

That night, when you fall asleep, you dream of your life before The Quiet Place. At first it's the happiest moments of your life played on repeat, over and over. Everything good and sweet and fun. The second night, it's much the same. You go to bed anticipating another restful and pleasant sleep. But on the third night it changes.

For everyone, it starts the same. There's a long hallway with a door at the end. You walk towards it with nowhere else to go. You twist the knob and when you step forward, the floor ends and you fall. Falling lasts for seconds, minutes, or hours and when you land, it's with a jolt and a cloud of red dust all around you. There's someone else next to you, stumbling, coughing and choking on that familiar dirt that coats your tongue and mouth. When your eyes meet, everything blurs and you're falling again - this time, when you land, it's inside that dream from the first night. Only you're not alone. They're with you. The only way out is to experience the dream together. And when you do wake up, for real, that same red dirt is on your hands.

Falling down the stairs
Content Warnings: Confusion, disorientation
Themes: Survival, horror, it's like groundhog day

The ending of the floor has caught me unawares. This must be the reason why I’m falling down the stairs.

That night, when you fall asleep, you dream of your life before The Quiet Place. At first it's the worst moments of your life played on repeat, over and over. Everything bad and sour and awful. The second night, it's much the same. You go to bed anticipating another restless and dreadful sleep. But on the third night it changes.

For everyone, it starts the same. There's a long hallway with a door at the end. You walk towards it with nowhere else to go. You twist the knob and when you step forward, the floor ends and you fall. Falling lasts for seconds, minutes, or hours and when you land, it's with a jolt and a cloud of red dust all around you. There's someone else next to you, stumbling, coughing and choking on that familiar dirt that coats your tongue and mouth. When your eyes meet, everything blurs and you're falling again - this time, when you land, it's inside that nightmare from the first night. Only you're not alone. They're with you. The only way out is to experience the nightmare together. And when you do wake up, for real, that same red dirt is on your hands.

OOC
From your mods:

Please remember to mark your content in your starters or subject lines as material comes up. The threads on this meme can be used as game canon. Feel free to thread out arrival style meetings as well! If you have questions, pp the mod account, use the faq or comment below. Have fun!

NAVIGATION

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Comments

spike | from that old show

[lovesbitch]

arrival;;

[ he fights tooth and nail, his eyes glowing gold as he throws natives away from him like they're fleas. it's with some concerted effort on his part that he doesn't break out into the monster's face, but he doesn't mean them harm -- not really. he just won't be caged again. he can't. he'll break for the last time and that will be it for him. eventually they manage to strip him of all that he has, and it feels familiar in the worst way. he's left in a sunny yellow jumpsuit and a scowl, snatching the device they give him out of native hands with a growl. they just press their fingers to his lips and shove him out to watch constance's little... performance art. ]

Alright, already. We get it. If you're so bloody special what do you need us for?

[ he snipes over everyone, interrupting questions and generally causing a raucus until they carry him away. it takes five big guys to corral him but they take him back into the first reset chamber and start again. he busts out only to be carried back in for a stern talking to three different times, his yells can be heard in the main room, he's not giving it up. ] Get your grubby mitts offa me! I was William the Bloody once, you know. I ate guys like you for a snack! Tasted a little gamey, but I powered through.

[ endless babble eventually, eventually comes to an end and spike re-enters the populace looking beat down in more ways than one. bruises are starting to form on his arms where he ripped off the sleeves to his jumpsuit, but the raised angry red should be gone by morning. he's stomping off, angry to have lost his boots. it doesn't quite have the same effect with bare feet in the sand, does it? spike is a creature who thrives on sound. he needs it to know he's still alive. or whatever approximation he passes for.

whoever tries to approach the vampire will get a glower and a v sign courtesy of all the salt in britain. not that he even really considers himself english anymore. he throws his device on the ground and storms off like a totally mature 200 years old child. ]

settling in;;

[ spike has calmed down... somewhat since the reset room incident, but after fighting the natives so much now it's very late and he is very sick of this place already. he's just going to creep up onto someone's deck and fall asleep there in a jumble of limbs in the corner like a stray feline. sorry, he probably won't be moving for a while. his device is open next to him with a message flashing. ]

spike: touch me and lose an apendage.
i'll let you pick which one :)

caught me unawares;;

[ spike looks a little different in this dream, and his mother is here. he has his head in her lap and he's reading her scriptures while she sings softly under her breath. his heart swells, and he feels complete. there's a part of him that knows this isn't real; that knows this is just a fake version of something that happened a very long time ago, but the comfort is welcomed anyway.

then the scene shifts. spike looking more like himself but still with his head pillowed on a woman's thighs. this time it's a dark, dangerous woman. she coos nonsense while petting long fingers up and down his back. he closes his eyes, and when he opens them -- he's in a hallway. okay... he's glancing sharply around. if that cheese guy comes out of the closet he swears to GOD. then there's a door. something tells him to open it. he puts out his hand and swallows, then turns it quick like it might bite him.

and then he's falling ... falling.

still falling.

now he's just bored.

at least, until the landing. which he nails by the way. if anyone were to ask later. you know. whatever. ] For fuck's sake! [ he tosses around red dust like a toddler throwing a tantrum. he hates this place more than he's ever hated anywhere, and that includes the place without shrimp okay. he's done, he wants out. ] Eternal torment was one thing, but this is bleeding sick. Whoever sets this up needs a head shrinking.

[ then he sees whoever is in there with him and he makes a face like WHAT ] Got something to say? Jesus. Everyone here's a critic. Ain't that swell.

falling down the stairs;;
cw: attempted rape

[ there's only one moment spike holds in the 'worst' category. it isn't the night his mother died. it isn't the night dru left him. it isn't even the night he stumbled into sunnyhell, no. he had said all of those were the worst, but they were just moments. links on a chain that brought him to buffy summers. that led him to his destiny.

except this? this isn't who he is, is it? this isn't the man he wants to be. spike pushes buffy down on the tile, moving her robe aside. he's telling her she wants this, she wants him. but it's all, all wrong. she shoves him off and he sees the bruises he'll leave; he sees the pain in her eyes. all he ever wanted was her love and adoration. for her to notice him, to notice he was trying to be a good man.

he swallows, and he thinks he ekes out an apology. he can't hear anything over the rush of blood in his head. he feels a heart beat that's been dead for centuries and he flees. he's dust in the wind and clawing desperately at the hollow void inside him. he did that, him. there's no one else who he can blame.

then there are the trials. they're hard, they hurt; but they're nothing when compared to what he's done. spike doesn't think she'll ever forgive him -- she shouldn't. but he has to try. he has to be a better man. the moment his soul is restored, he feels all the hurt he's caused. all the suffering -- accutely. this is what he wanted. this is what he fought for.

spike clutches his chest and he's running again. the stone cave turns into asphalt and back into that long, stupid hallway again. he groans, but he's already given into his fate. spike pushes the door open and gracefully tumbles through the air this time, landing on his feet in the reset room. gUESS WHo'S BACK ]

settling in

[bossily]

[She had been in the room when he had been taken by the natives. She hadn't known him, and she still doesn't know him now, but she had fought to try and get them to leave the guy alone. She had been worried about him, especially when she didn't see him emerge. So when she slips out of the house she's staying in and takes notice of him up on the deck, she decides not to head outside to explore at night. She's exhausted thanks to being so worked up most of the day, so she tells herself she can just go out tomorrow. Instead, she goes inside and grabs a blanket.

She's in the middle of draping it over him and making sure it's around him properly when she takes notice of his device. What she reads makes her lightly scoff and roll her eyes. It does absolutely nothing to deter her from making sure he's warm and not about to die or anything.]

Angus McDonald | The Adventure Zone: Balance

[iloveyousirs]

arrival
[Angus has a lot of questions, and he's not going to shut up about it. As he's scooted forward, undressed, washed, and redressed, he gradually finds his wits about him to start talking-]

Excuse me! Sirs or Ma'ams? If someone could please answer some of my questions, I would be most appreciative! I am wondering where I am? The last time I went to bed for the night, I was in school at the Academy, and now I'm here! Why were we covered in dust? Where are our clothes? I would very much like an answer to all this and much, much more if I can just have a moment of someone's time!

[he squares his small shoulders and pushes his glasses up his nose, standing up tall in all his twelve years. He keeps a politely neutral expression on his face, doesn't want to offend their new....... hosts.....? captors.......? But he is very Upset about this turn of events!]

caught me unawares
Is it over, Sirs? Did we win?

[and then, being hoisted up on tall, broad shoulders, his friend Magnus bruised and beaming at him:] Let 'em know, kid.

[Angus is positively crowing, pumping his fist in the air and whooping as he calls out:] Hey, everybody! Johann was right! We won!

[it's a good dream, one Angus is more than happy to repeat forever. It was the perfect moment, the pride and outright relief shining on Taako's and Magnus's and Merle's faces, on everyone who played a part in saving just... just everything from the Hunger.

Sliding down from Magnus's shoulders, Angus wanders off to celebrate with all his friends, welcoming every muss of hands to his black curls and every slap on his back, even if some are a little gruff. Mr. Davenport. There's a hallway that wasn't there before at the Bureau, though - and at the end is a door, curious bright light spilling from around it. Angus has to investigate, so he does, wandering down the endless stretch of hallway until finally the doorknob is in his grasp. he turns it, opens the door.

the light is blinding, and when Angus steps through, there's nothing to catch him, and he's falling - falling forever, and he's pretty sure he's screaming, but it could be the wind whooshing past his ears.

He lands in dirt, and he sucks in a gross, dust-filled breath, his chest heaving as his wobbly limbs try to regain balance on a solid ground again. he's at the post-battle celebration, though, but everyone is... paler somehow. Not quite Real. He wants to get up, to ask Taako what's going on, but then there's someone landing with a groan in the dirt an dust beside him, bright and real and standing out more than anyone else here.

Angus whispers, and he's not sure why:] Who are you?

falling down the stairs
[Angus is too far away. He's on the moon, in the safety of the Bureau, while his very best friends are out fighting this huge battle. How else can he help them - he should be with them, fighting right along side them! Instead, he can only listen to the Quiz Robot, Hodge Podge, spout question after question, and then he can tell them the answers in their Stones of Farspeech.

He's in the middle of spelling "aarakocra" when the stones go silent after a sickening crunch. Angus suddenly feels like he can't breathe, like his chest is folding in on itself. it's too tight, his heart can't beat.

oh God, his friends are dead. His friends are dead, and he can't help them, and he didn't answer in time! They're going to die and it's all his fault. He killed them.

When the dream repeats for a third night in a row, even in the dream, Angus is exhausted. Panic, palpable fear, has kept him from resting, and when the stones go silent, there's a click behind him, a door opening just slightly, light spilling out.

it's more inviting than the impending panic, and Angus leaps from his chair, his stone still in his sweaty palm, and he runs for the door, desperate for anything different, a way to help his friends, an escape - anything.

He stumbles, falls, arms and legs windmilling. he drops the stone somewhere along the way, and it's falling a little way away from him. he lands first, the stone clattering to the floor next to him, both of them kicking up a cloud of dust.

the stone is in pieces, scattered across the floor, and Angus doesn't care about the weird red dust choking the breath from him as he shakily reaches to pick up each piece, trying and failing to put them together again. he doesn't even notice the figure that fell with him.]

No! No no no no no no no, I need this! I have to - oh no!

wildcard
[catch the world's greatest detective, your very best friend, and an outstandingly smart flesh boy around the city of Reims! he will be small and carrying a stack of books - having found the library before his own house - and will be in a sky blue jumpsuit.

if you've got anything specific in mind, give it a go or send me a plurk! Find me at hailandwellmet! (adding is cool!)]

caught me unawares

[deadboywalking]

[Falling sucks. Every time Will thinks he's finally figured out this place, something weird and random and uncomfortable happens, and this time it's falling. He sits up a with a soft groan, ruffling the dust out of his hair and squinting upwards.

The voice makes him twitch (no no no shhh we have to be quiet shhh) but he realizes soon they're not in Reims.

His voice is hoarse from disuse when he answers:] I'm Will. Who're you?

steve rogers (captain america) | mcu

[valuedstrength]

arrival;

[He goes along with it. It's easy when you've already played this game before. In some ways, it's better this time around. No one puts him on a stage or chases him out the door. It's simple and straightforward. Steve accepts it as much as he accepts anything in the fever dream known as his actual life.

He scrubs his hand over his face and tries not to flashback to his Battle of New York suit when he leaves in his blue jumpsuit. Spoilers: he fails miserably. He's got the device and his feet are working. It's time to explore and see if any of his team has been caught up in all this.]

caught me unawares;

[The first night he dreams of his mother. They're in their tiny apartment in Brooklyn, but she's cooking while he draws her something to make her smile. Just when he finishes his still life of the flower he found adventuring with his best friend early, she smiles at him. The dreams end there.

The second night he dreams of the first time he meets his best friend. It's the first time anyone has stood up for him; with him. He's defensive, but also warmed to his core. Finally, he has someone in this world aside from his mom. The smile he offers is the first genuine one outside his family apartment.

Nothing sweet ever lasts for him. He stumbles, coughs, finds someone, and ends up back in that apartment in Brooklyn. Well, he supposes stranger things have happened than someone else weirdly showing up in his dreams.]

wildcard;

[Ask for something different! I'm available on pm.]

arrives on horseback

[oorah]

[ just a boyo and his doggo traipsing through the crowd, looking out for anyone especially vulnerable or needing of assistance. frank is dressed in a sleek black jumpsuit that looks like it was tailor made for him and big chunky combat boots that somehow fall silently whether traversing sand or the hard ground. there's a hat tugged carelessly down over his head, mostly because not getting a haircut for 10 weeks is the pits, man.

max finds steve first, pushing his nose against one giant thigh. something about him gets the dog's attention and frank isn't far behind, glancing around for where max could have gone. oh. there's something about the way this guy carries himself that's instantly familiar and frank swallows, trying to read the other man's expression. he recognizes that too, the listlessness that comes with deployment; the resignation of leaving your family behind for sand and war.

when frank comes closer, max falls in line at his side, though he's still curious of steve, peering at him like a kid through his mother's skirts. he isn't so reluctant when reaching for his device this time, knowing he needs to say something even if it's lame. ] this place remind you of anything? [ it's not a riddle, but a show of solidarity, the message coming from the username 'hotdog.' ]

Spock || Star Trek (AOS)

[rishhavel]

ARRIVAL

[When the disorientation and lethargy clear, Spock is certain of only one thing: he is a long way from home. He has too many questions, and the woman had too few answers. A haunted world... It seems impossible. Should be impossible. Ghosts are not real. Monsters are not real (at least not in the fantastical sense of boogeymen). Even if he isn't in his own reality, having somehow slipped between dimensions, science and logic should prevail. There is a scientific, logical explanation for everything.

Still, he accepts the condition of total silence, and it isn't long before he's walking one of the sand-covered paths with the intention of exploring. The red color of it reminds him of home, and he can't stifle the muted, bittersweet ache that constricts his chest.]





FALLING DOWN THE STAIRS

[Spock rarely dreams, let alone has nightmares, so when he has the first one, he assumes it's due to stress and takes time to meditate the next day. When the nightmare occurs a second time, he meditates again, attempting to sort through his thoughts to find the cause.

It doesn't work, of course.

In the nightmares he's on Vulcan. Red sand whips through the air. There's a general sense of panic, of chaos. The planet is dying; they have to evacuate. His mother is right there, then he blinks and she's too far away. He reaches out. The ground falls away. His hand closes on empty air. The scene abruptly shifts and he's on the Enterprise, outside the warp core. Jim is lying there, lifeless. His hand is pressed to the cold reinforced glass separating them. He can't even get his body out until the radiation is low enough. Grief and rage burn through him.

Every night is the same, until the third. Upon approaching the door, Spock thinks perhaps he's solved the problem, or at least changed something. He twists the knob, steps forward and then he's falling, twisting through the darkness seemingly endlessly — except it does end, and for several moments Spock thinks he's back on Vulcan, with the red sand whipping through the air. He turns, eyes wide, expecting to see his mother.]





WILDCARD

[ya idk insert something else here? XD]

arrival~

[skyofreverie]

[New arrival day - it comes around just like Sora expected it would. Which means he's heading for the arrival room, ready to lend his healing magic if needed or just answer questions. And maybe to see if any familiar faces pop up in the new batch.

Sora's heading towards it, which means he just so happens to see someone in his direction. Away from the room. He lifts a hand as a silent greeting before pulling out his communicator. The username that pops up is sol.]

Hey, you're new, right?

Tweek Tweak | South Park

[tweeking]

I. Arrival

[Silence is an impossible task for Tweek. He knows he can't do it, he knows it's too much. But the last thing he wants is for one of these strangers to touch him again. Really--he'd agree to anything just to get away from the strange people talking with their hands, looking too nice and suspicious.

He can do his best to be quiet. He can stick to the sand paths. As soon as he's able to leave, he does. Fortunately, he makes it at least a few feet from the reset room. Unfortunately, that's how long it takes for him to get startled. All it takes is one 'GAH!' and goner.

He doesn't know how much time has passed, but he also doesn't quite remember what happened. He finds himself in that dreaded room all over again.] Why is this happening?

II. Caught me unawares (-ish)

[Sleep isn't something that comes easily. Or ever. Even more so when everthing about being here is too much. Too stressful. The stress is stressful. The thought of the stress being stressful stresses him out.

He doesn't immediately remember that he has his coping mechanisms for calming down, but when he does, he finds his center. He relaxes, his breathing slows. The walls fall away, the carpet fades away. He's in a vibrantly colored garden. Water flowing nearby, birds chirping, animals. Really cute animals.

At some point, he actually does doze off. It's not for long; it hardly ever is, but at least his dreams keep him in this same pleasant place.]


III. Network; un: groundsforconspiracy

Has anyone ACTUALLY seen one of these sound
monster
things
because how do we know they're not around us right now? What if THESE PEOPLE are actually the monsters? WHAT IF WE'RE THE MONSTERS?

IV. Wildcard.

Kyle Broflovski | South Park

[dreidels]

I. Arrival

[It's not the worst place he's been. That's what Kyle tells himself, though if he's honest with himself, he'd not be so sure. It's... weird. And also complete and utter bullshit. Far be it from Kyle to keep his opinions to himself.

At first he thinks it's some kind of elaborate prank, but as the woman speaks to him, he realizes it's far worse. These people actually expect him not to talk. Which leads to him arguing about it. Loudly.]

II. Falling down the stairs

[Eventually, Kyle relents and agrees to be silent. He has the device, which is almost as good as his own, so perhaps he can manage. For the first few days, it's not so bad. They're difficult, but it's the nights that are much worse.

Every night it's the same dream: his brother's birth parents coming to take him away. Except it never gets to the good part, where he's eventually able to get Ike back home where he belongs. Instead it's only the beginning: his brother not wanting to leave, their parents crying, Kyle feeling heartbroken and helpless, unable to stop any of it from happening.

After two nights of it, he resolves to simply not sleep. Except it's not so easy; eventually exhaustion claims him. This dream starts differently, but it doesn't feel any better. The hallway makes him think of a hospital, with it being so incredibly long. The lights flicker as he comes to the door.

He opens it, steps forth, and then he's falling, falling--

until eventually he lands, exactly where he doesn't want to be all over again.]

III. Network; un: cartmansucks

My question is whether this is some fucked up alternate reality or is this really what we have to look forward to in the future? Everything I ever heard about the future isn't like this, but then there's what happened to Canada.

IV. Wildcard.

un:bigbad

[lovesbitch]

Do I even wanna know? those maple-soaked basket-weavers are always gettin themselves in a tight space.

Lavi | D.Gray-Man (+2 game histories)

[historyrabbit]

[ ARRIVAL ]

[Waking up in another new place...

Well, honestly it was a little frustrating.

He was tired.

The one good thing from all of this, though?

He didn't have to talk.

Lavi stuffed the device in his pocket after asking them if they had a guide for the hand signs they were using. They told him to watch others, ask them, look at the device itself and see if there was anything documented.

At least if there wasn't it would be something to occupy himself.

Making a guide.

The redhead hobbles out the door, looking out of place yet at the same time not at all perturbed at his being displaced.

He focuses on the first person that does look out of place and waves them over once he has their attention. At first he'll try signing: Can you show me some signs they use here?]

[ Caught Unawares ]

[With living the life he has...it's hard to come across a good memory. But there are a few things that stick out...

If anyone knew of the places on Earth, this one would be recognizable to them. Victorian England is its own kind of grimey that isn't really seen except in movies trying to emulate them. Big Ben and the London Bridge are there, as is the castle, but the focus isn't on them, though they're easily spotted from the rooftop Lavi and his companion find themselves on.

In fact, as soon as they "land" the redhead is pushing himself up on his feet quickly, the movement itself is jerky like a newborn colt. Once he's up, he's racing towards the rooftop's edge, trying to reach something in time, not even really paying attention to the fact that this time he's not alone.]

There... [If you make it over to him in time, there's a duplicate of him down in the streets with a small child. From here you can't tell they both have collars around their necks, can't make out what they're saying. But suddenly there's a large hammer where there wasn’t one before, the head of the hammer the size of a barrel and the redhead swings it around rather easily.]

Come on...

[He seems...impatient for something to happen.]

[ Wildcard ]

[Feel free to wildcard it up! I can be reached on Lavi's journal, at gloryfalling, and gloryfalling#0443 on discord!]

arrival

[skyofreverie]

[Like clockwork - just like the Facility, just like the three cities and other worlds he's been to. Only Sora can actually get to this room and he's not sure if people are going to arrive injured or not. Of course, he isn't just here as a healer but also as a friend and fighter. He's heard about at least one enemy that could show up from someone's world and wants to make sure IT doesn't arrive.

Which is how he spots a familiar red-head leaving the arrival room. Sora is completely prepared to see people he knows but not be remembered. But those scars...

He knows them. Sora isn't proficent in the sign language yet so he pulls out his 'berry. The username attached is sol - the name he had as part of DECK.]

I've only learned a few words, Lavi.

Also, why is it that you only show up in EVERY OTHER world I end up in?

Kurama | Yu Yu Hakusho/ 15 Strangers CRAU

[byanyother_name]

Arrival:

[Kurama...does not take his arrival in this new place as well as he could. It was supposed to be over, he was supposed to leave the mall with the people he cared about, the people he loved, and see his mother again.

Instead he is here. Potentially alone, or at least he hasn't yet seen anyone he knows.

But he is in control of himself. And he can be so very quiet. He is a Reaper now, after all. If he isn't allowed to talk, there's no reason to breathe, and his heart no longer beats. He is long accustomed to stealthy footsteps. The pale, sad redhead is eerily silent as he drifts through the community, learning the paths and buildings.

Ghost-silent.]



Caught me unawares

[Kurama has a few memories that stand out among his happiest. This one happens to be a wedding. It's an outdoor wedding in the spring; everything is blooming. The bride is an older woman, her groom a bespectacled man of a similar age. They both look excited and happy.

Kurama looks excited and happy, standing in a suit near a boy with orange hair, rough features, and a brilliantly sincere smile.

He knows it's a dream, but it's a beautiful dream, a beautiful memory, and he misses seeing his mother.]

Ah... Welcome to my mother's wedding. I'm not quite sure how you got caught in my dream but hopefully it's harmless.



Falling down the stairs (cw: mentions of violent death, suicide)

[The nightmare always starts one of two places. Kurama has many horrors to relive, but these are among the freshest. In some ways, he feels lucky when it starts with his suicide. As much as reliving that moment hurts, physically and emotionally, at least it is over quickly.

He is not lucky tonight.

The vote still blinks on his phone's screen as they tumble down the chute.

> Goro Akechi

They land inside a tall, enclosed cylinder with clear walls. Others are outside, some watching, some shouting at a psychedelic kaleidoscope of color shaped like a girl.

Kurama and his fellow dreamer are not alone inside the ominous space; there are two other boys with them. One of those boys is meant to die here.]

No...

arrival

[lowkeycrazy]

[Somehow, it hadn't immediately occurred to him during the last batch of arrivals that this might now be a regular thing. With this third group, however, he's realized that this was something he ought to actively anticipate near around the middle of each month...

In either case, today he'll be wearing an outfit that was recently handed to him by a native. It's been... awhile since he's actually dressed up like this, and usually... he'd hate it. Formal parties were such a bore and a frivolous obligation... But this time, he isn't dressing up because he was told to. This time, it's just for him.

His hair still needs time to recover from so many weeks without a proper washing, but it at least looks a little better with his recently acquired toiletries— which were... Margerine scented, of all things... but.. he supposes as long as it works? All that aside, he's honestly looking the best that he has in awhile. And feeling... well. Not the "best", but a little better? A little better.

And he does indeed notice the "ghost" that's drifting about, looking lost and rather forlorn. And he's... well. The charismatic mask is something he'd discarded some time ago, and he doesn't think he'll ever have the heart to fully replicate it again. But... he can use bits and pieces of what he'd learned.

And jokes are a good ice-breaker, right?

So... he reaches out and gently taps Kurama on the shoulder, who will find the device held up to him when turns around.]

For someone so red, you're looking rather blue.

Shouto Todoroki | My Hero Academia

[somelikeitcold]

i. arrival/exploring the city

[Hush, they'd said. Sound is dangerous, and is not allowed. It's not too onerous a request for Todoroki, who tends to be quiet and reserved as it is. But it's still concerning; living in fear is a miserable state of existence--one he remembers from his childhood with Endeavor. And if he's to be a Hero, maybe he can help these people, somehow. Discover what manner of villains these Sound Eaters are.

But in order to do that, he needs to learn how this place works. So he's out exploring, keeping to the sand paths as required, and painting hinges with oil when necessary. He checks his device sporadically, though engaging in direct communication isn't something he's done a lot of yet.

It's as he's doing all this that he spots something happening--someone (maybe you, even) either too engaged in their device or otherwise not watching where they're going. They're about to lose their balance, somehow, about to fall. Falling would make a sound, and he's been warned that even the slightest sound could mean death.

His reaction is instantaneous--before gravity can finish taking its course, a sudden rush of ice crystals runs up their legs and their spine, holding them in place, preventing the impact. Todoroki walks over as quickly as he can without making sound, melts the ice, helps them up to their feet. Holds up his device with one sentence written upon it:

Are you alright?

ii. falling down the stairs [cw: domestic violence, child abuse]

[The dreams are nothing new, really. He sees these scenes play out behind his eyelids often, both when he's asleep, and sometimes when he's awake, too.

{
It usually starts with a man and his flaming beard, towering over you as you retch on the ground.

"Stand up," rings the order in your ears. "If you're downed by something like this, forget beating All Might. You won't even be able to take the small-fry villains--"

A woman's desperate plea fills the air: "Please stop! He's only five!"

"He's already five! Get out of my way!"

A sharp crack of impact, a scream, and she hits the ground.

---

You hear your mother's voice in the kitchen late one night, when you wander in to find yourself a snack, rubbing sleep from your voice. She's on the phone. A kettle of water boils on the stove.

"Mom, I'm going crazy...I can't take it anymore."

She sounds desperate, more desperate than you've ever heard her. Scared. It's tinged through with the edge of hysteria, someone right on the verge of falling apart. Your mismatched eyes widen as you realize you're overhearing something you shouldn't be, but you can't walk away.

"Every day, the children seem to become more and more like him. Shouto's...that child's left side sometimes looks very unsightly to me..."

(Unsightly...?)

"I can't raise him anymore...I feel like I shouldn't..."

(What is she saying? Is she going to leave you alone...with him? No--she can't, she can't--)

"M...mom?"

Something snaps in her that day, when she hears your voice. She gasps in surprise, as the kettle starts to whistle.

You can't remember if what followed were her screams or yours, as she pours the boiling water over the left side of your face. The fire side, the legacy of your father.

---

"Where's mom?"

"Oh, she injured you, so I put her in a hospital."

He sounds casual, flippant. It makes your blood boil.

"It's your fault. You're the one who made Mom...."

You'll never forgive him. Never.

(You're not sure how you'll forgive yourself)




}

He's falling. He's falling, and when he hits the ground, he's in his.childhood home again. His father's voice booms through the hall, but this time, he's not alone. Todoroki doesn't bother to tell the other person not to watch, doesn't say anything at all. He turns away, and tries not to think about how his mother's voice sounds.]

I'm sorry.

[is all he says out loud. Is he talking to you, or someone else?]

[nishizono]

[ even the best of men can lose their balance - and tetora's one of the worst of them. it's routine work, part of the job that the natives had given him when he'd first arrived; there's something peaceful about painting and oiling metal hinges that tetora loses himself in it. and it's a dangerous thing, because he's not that tall and he's standing on top of a padded stool when he reaches out to brush away the rust on a hinge high up on the door frame. too high up, apparently - tetora recognizes the exact moment he reaches too far, and his mind barely has the time to think, oh shit—

—when ice rushes up his body.

he knows it's not the sound eaters; even if he made sound before he could register it, he knows what getting ripped apart would feel like, and this isn't it. what it is, is ice. loads of it, propping him up, and tetora marvels as it melts away to set him quietly back on his feet as a young man with a large burn mark on his face approaches.

are you alright?, the guy asks. tetora nods, before asking in turn: ]

was that you? the ice?

Taako | The Adventure Zone: Balance | TAZ Balance spoilers

[tacosgay]

falling down the stairs

Taako doesn't ordinarily dream. It's very likely due to the fact that he doesn't really sleep; not the way most people would know it, anyway. Elves have their weird biological bullshit just like any other species, or race, whichever one would call it. And so, when he sinks into his restful meditation for the evening, he isn't expecting the vivid imagery that greets him.

He's in Glamour Springs. He's been doing another show, another episode of Sizzle It Up with Taako, and he's just wrapped up the recipe he's been working on with a flourish, displaying the completed chicken for his adoring audience.

"Who wants samples~?"

People line up; old, young, teenagers, househusbands and housewives. Hungry strangers, and bored looky-loos wanting a free show. One by one, they accept their little piece of chicken on a small plate, and they taste it, and they rave about the flavor, about Taako's skill.

One by one, they begin to get sick.

It starts slow; someone feels nauseated, but it's brushed off at first, until someone nearby begins to vomit. Then another. Then another.

Taako doesn't wait to see what happens next. He's already shutting down the wagon, putting everything away so quickly that he nearly smashes a glass bowl in the process, and he's yelling to Sazed to shut it down, to get them moving as soon as possible. Outside of the trailer, he can hear the sounds of a slowly-growing hysteria building, people calling frantically to one-another or begging for help, calling for doctors, and he begins to panic.

He doesn't look back out of the windows as they finally pull away, driving away at a frantic pace, leaving the scene of destruction behind. There's nothing they could do, right? Taako knew exactly what he'd done wrong.

Or so he'd thought.

The next day, he wakes up alone, the trailer silent. Sazed is nowhere to be found. He has to face this alone. Pain and horror gather into a cold, heavy pit low in his stomach. He can't breathe.

And then... he's somewhere else. He's not on the trailer anymore, cold panic wrapping itself around him like a second skin; he's in a hallway, and there is a door ahead. He half-runs to it, and then entirely runs, desperate to get away from this, to go anywhere but here--

-- and then he's falling, and he can't remember why, and a new kind of terror tears at him until, quite suddenly, he lands, pain spiking up through his frame; he's paralyzed for a second, unable to get up. The pain passes, however, and he's able to stand, and there's dirt-- it's everywhere, it's in his mouth and eyes, and he glances up to see someone near him, and then he's falling again, spiraling downward to somewhere unseen, and this time, he isn't alone--

... and, suddenly, he's in Glamour Springs, and he's just finished up a show of Sizzle It Up with Taako, and he's having to watch, helplessly, only dimly aware of his new companion as he hears his own voice call to the audience--

"Who wants samples~?"

[shotfired]

Lup knows it's a dream almost immediately. For one, Sizzle It Up with Taako is something that she's never heard of, and it being a thing in Reims doesn't even cross her mind because of the whole 'always be quiet' bullshit. Then there's the fact that Taako is--well. Apparently selling food on the road? Without her or any of the other IPRE members to boot. Just him, a fancy caravan, and some guy lurking around watching the show intently.

She's about to pass it off as her mind being a dick with some kind of fantasy It's A Wonderful Life garbage. All look, Lup! He's moved on. Who needs a sister that leaves with nothing but a shitty note to remember her by?

It's then she notices the other Taako. The one standing next to her, still as a board, looking like he's watching his whole world crumble around him. It's not...an expression she likes seeing on his face. It reminds her too much of their past, of being passed around, having to survive on nothing but the tolerance of garbage people on a garbage world. Maybe he could be a dream, too, but somehow he seems real. Somehow she's sure she's looking at her brother.

Are they sharing this dream? She wouldn't put it past this place.

Without even thinking she reaches down to take his hand. Like she's done a million times before, to show support or comfort. It might not seem like much to outsiders but to her, the gesture is a reminder that no matter what the world throws at them, no matter how hard things are or how lonely life gets...they have each other. Always.

"Hey. Fuck this place, huh?"

Diana Prince | DCEU

[monomachy]

not a soul in the road [arrival]

[It feels like just moments ago that Diana had brushed her fingers over Steve’s picture in London, thinking on how most people would never know the sacrifice he had made. But such was the fate of too many heroes, especially those forced to make the decision before they were ready. But she had learned that humans could be recklessly selfless when the time came, no matter the cost.

No matter who they left behind.

Briefly, she thinks she’s dreaming. She sees Steve’s face there in black and white, and then only darkness. When she wakes, she gasps for breath, choking on dirt and digging her fingers into the ground. She’s hefted to her feet, dazed. The disorientation is the only thing that keeps her from lashing out at the natives around her, though she does try to snatch her lasso away from the one who takes it. But her limbs are weakened from arrival, and she’s washed and dressed without much fuss.

Her mind is finally catching up, and she opens her mouth to speak—but is cut off by the native’s finger against her lips. She sees the look in the woman’s eyes, and knows that she will obey the direction for silence. For the time being

The explanation is given through hand gestures that Diana vaguely recognizes as a kind of sign language. This world is dangerous, they say, full of monsters that are attracted by all kinds of sound. There is constant danger, which they must be vigilant to keep at bay.

As her strength returns, so does a newfound sense of resolve. She had succeeded in her mission to kill Ares, had freed mankind from his corruption—perhaps now the gods had seen fit for her to free these people as well.

When she makes to leave the room with the red dirt, the fire of determination lights her eyes. She does not make a sound, keeping her gait light as Antiope had trained her to do, but each step is fueled with purpose. She has naught but her strength and wit, and millennia of training to hone it. But she will bell these people, no matter what.]

not a star in the sky [unawares]

[Sleep had not come easily, nor would she have expected it to. Steve’s death is still fresh on her heart, and she’s finally beginning to realize the gravity of her mother’s words. You may never return. Diana still doesn’t know if it had been a warning or a fact, and tries not to think on it for too long.

When her first dream is a happy one, she prays that it will never end. And when she has the same dream a second night, she feels as if her prayer had been answered. As she lies down for the third night, she doesn’t expect to be thrice blessed—the hallway is a new addition, and the falling, but she can feel in her bones that she will not be disappointed again. So as she plummets, she laughs, spreading her arms and inviting the fall.

Briefly, she spies another figure from the corner of her eye, but pays it no mind. She lands, doesn’t notice the dirt on her hands. She’s too busy sighing with contentment, ready to lose herself in the dream once more. She remembers the day, warm like all the others, when her latest tutor had given up on her. The exhilaration of seeing her aunt's warriors train, trying to imitate them, had put a new swiftness in her steps as she ran for the ledge she thought would take her straight to the ocean. She'd miscalculated, her childish mind too preoccupied with visions of grand battles and wonderful victory, and had her mother not caught her, well. That could have been disastrous. But Hippolyta had made a grave mistake that night in telling her daughter the story of the Amazons' rebellion against Ares' enslavement, and in showing her the God-Killer the next morning. It had only fanned the flame of Diana's desire to be a great hero like the Amazons before her, setting her on the path to disobeying her mother's wishes and beginning to train with Antiope.

Finally, she realizes the person beside her had not been a flash of her imagination, but is there beside her in Themyscira. She smiles widely at them, sweeping her arm in front of her, lost in the bliss of the dream and not minding that she's in her own mind, her own world.]

Welcome to Themyscira, friend.

it's a desert in my heart [falling]

[This night is not as kind as others. In fact, it is unbearably cruel.

The memory tears at her heart, and she wakes up barely able to breathe. The second night, she has to press her hand to her mouth to stifle a sob. And for the first time in her life, Diana is afraid to go to sleep, because somehow she knows she will once again be subjected to one of the worst days of her life. And yet she must sleep once she is too exhausted to keep her eyes open any longer, literally falling into the nightmare before she is ready. And she's not alone.

Themyscira's beach, normally so beautiful to her, is the last place she wants to be right now. Especially not with this stranger. The German ships are on the horizon, and she can already hear their shouts. But she reacts before allowing herself to think, reaching out to grasp her unexpected companion's arm.]

We need to get off the beach!

and nowhere to hide [wildcard]

[i'm down for just about anything! hit me up on plurk at watchet for anything specific.]

not a star in the sky

[353]

[ Mike is stunned as he picks himself off the ground and takes in the island they've landed on. It's beautiful. He's never seen anything like it, with all its lush scenery, Greco-Roman architecture and the bluest sea Mike has ever seen surrounding it. It's nothing like the town he's from and Mike is actually speechless for a moment, his lips parted in awe as he turns his head in all directions, soaking up the view.

Themyscira... That name sounds familiar to Mike. Like something he's read in one of his comics, but he's not quite sure. Not that it's important right now - Mike can't wait to explore. ]

Is this what heaven looks like? [ Mike hopes so. ]

Yukie Gray | Original Character

[accursedwings]

| Arrival |

[ Nothing about this is right.

The last he remembers was pointing his guns and firing them point blank range at the smug bastard who thought he was an intelligent and cunning hunter. As he finally comes to, his senses - usually sharp and edged - feel fuzzy and it takes a few moments before his mind finally catches up. About that time he registers a couple of things and it's nothing at all he likes.

One? They have him here in some world where you couldn't make sound without the threat of death. Two? They took his goddamn coat and his usual clothes, along with his guns and knives.

To top it all off, without the cover of his coat? It was even harder to mask the rather massive wings he kept folded close to his back, the colors of the feathers ranging from a darker brown to a soft, light gold hue that shimmered in certain lighting. Though he was sure that the pointed ears would have given away his inhuman nature, it didn't leave him feeling very receptive to all this and had him scowling a little at the device in hand.

For a second he nearly looks like he wants to throw it at the wall but decides against it. Which was needed since he found someone staring at him and he responded in way of a message right after. ]

What? Didn't anyone tell you it's rude to stare?


| Caught me Unawares |


[ Never did he expect he'd ever relive his happiest moments in a place like this one.

The happiest ones are rare, far and inbetween but they're still there. Showing a young boy with the same blond hair and green eyes as Yukie but there's no wings or shred of inhumanity and a vibrant smile on his face. He's only a child of four here, dancing with his mother outside of a cozy-looking home that could only belong out of something from the 1900's. Nature was vibrant, bright and colorful, matching the expressions on both of their faces.

The woman - his mother - had faded blondish-brown hair and a kind smile. Yukie had gotten his eyes from her, a small face not yet marked with the demonic curse he now bore.

She's kind and sweet and he can't help but think of her. Many of his happier memories feature her as she whispers sweet words, fingers brushing through his hair and many might recognize the language spoken as none other than German. He's happy and cheerful around her, even through some later memories when he's a eager young man of around fifteen and cooking for her without any hesitations or pain visible whatsoever.

Lastly?

The shift is palpable in the next memories. He looks as he does now, expression soft but bemused as he's speaking to a rather pale young man with white-tipped navy blue hair and red eyes who seems to be huffing and seeming petulant about something. All while Yukie traces fingers along a gun in his one hand briefly. This could be likened to realizing this person was at least a friend to him, if the way he playfully punched his shoulder was any indication. It's almost painful when the next night comes and there's nothing but a door, steps hitting nothing and the fall catching him so off guard that he can't even muster up the strength to use his wings.

It's only as they reach the ground that he turns his attention to the one who'd ended up here, bristling visibly. ]

You'd do best to look away. I don't need people prying into my life like this.

[ He's a little brash and rough around the edges but not a bad person. This just seems way too invasive for him. ]


| Falling down the Stairs |
CW for torture, blood, needles

[ Of all things? This was the worst thing to be dreaming of and it's haunted him for YEARS.

At this time he remembers many awful things but this was... the worst time in his life. There's an older man, voice rough with germanic tones and suddenly Yukie is being taken away by men in military uniforms. No matter how he tries to fight it, he can't. His mom unable to do a damn thing, hands covering her eyes even as he screams for her.

Then there's the real worst parts.

He's SCREAMING. Pain. They inject him with more serum and his body convulses, twitching as he coughs up blood and fights against his restraints. His head feels like it's splitting open and he can't take more. More. Not much more of this. Day in and day out, the cycle repeats and the men hurt him; bruise him and throw him into the cell when he's not strapped down to that table.

No use. Try another serum. Something has to work! Try again!

Tears run down his face, hands break his wrists and it starts again. A number of different needles, blood running from his eyes but he never dies despite pain and white-hot agony searing through every pore. Laughing. He can almost hear the laughing. Day in and day out it hurts. More needles, more blood. Then finally when he feels like he's almost broken down, it happens. Nothing could have prepared this young man from the agony of having wings rip themselves out of your back violently, blood spraying everywhere.

Too much pain. It's too much to bear. His mind snaps briefly.

Never did Yukie want to relive those times, but here it was and tonight he wasn't alone. Tension is wrought in every nerve and the way he holds himself, wings shifting to almost curl around him protectively. Why did that door appear and bring him here with them? ]

Stop. Please don't... I can't...

[ His cold shell is cracked; showing an edge of vulnerability. Rare and unfettered. He couldn't build up his walls right now. ]


| Wildcard |

[ Nothing stand out to you? Bring me anything that stands out to you and i'll roll with it ^^ ]

Arrival

[tacosgay]

[Well, it's not Taako's fault that this motherfucker is the least human-looking he's seen so far, which... isn't a bad thing by any measure. It's just interesting. Particularly given this guy doesn't look like anything from his own world, either. The wings are a weird touch.

Still, Taako kind of gets why the guy is getting pissy with him; his response is a calm shrug, and then a very slowly-typed response.]

no offense my dude just checking out the scenery those wings are pretty dope

erik 'killmonger' stevens | mcu | spoilers

[clawings]

| Arrival |

[ It's like being buried alive all over again. Only this time it's with a bunch of other people, so that? Has him thinking this is not his father's homeland.

The first person to touch him, however, gets a nearly broken wrist for their trouble. He'll walk on his own, he tries to say, but no one can hear him and no one is listening anyway. They just get more people to guide him, and Erik bites his tongue and waits. Eyes the people touching him, grunts his annoyance at needing to be undressed, sneers at the deep purple jumpsuit. ]

The fuck? - [ Someone shushes him, and he swats their hand away. Don't fucking touch him anymore. He's dressed, and awake, and waiting to find out what fresh hell this is.

He has questions. Why aren't the creatures hunted? What kills them? Where did they come from? Are there other places like this? None of the answers satisfy. Erik sneers. ]

Whoever thinks this is Hell, raise your fucking hand.

| Falling Down the Stairs |

[ He falls, and he lands on a basketball court, covered in sand, with no one around, except...you, whomever you are, and Erik sucks his teeth in annoyance. ]

Didn't know this was gonna be a show.

[ There's a large apartment building, with small windows and an impossible number of them looming ahead. In the sky there's blueish lights, three of them, that appear over the roof and then vanish away. Erik's hand clenches into a fist and suddenly he's much smaller, maybe 9 or 10 years old. ]

| The Adjustment Period |

un: killmonger

anyone figure out a way of sparring without making noise? some of us need to blow off some steam.

| Joker's Wild |

[ Come at me with anything you like! ]

falling down the stairs

[353]

What?

[ Mike looks over in confusion at the adult he's landed with on the basketball court, wondering what show he's referring to - and then his eyes follow upwards towards the moving lights. What were those? Aliens?

When he turns his gaze back towards the man, he's suddenly a young boy, and Mike is all the more confused as to why he's changed, looking even younger than Mike. ]

Are you okay? [ He's obviously not pleased by what just flew over them and disappeared - Mike wants to know why. ]

Sally Malik | Being Human US

[reapercussion]

arrival.

[It doesn't bother her. Well, no, the red dirt or sand or whatever the hell it is does bother her, because she's getting really tired of experiencing someone else's death state. It's bad enough to watch it. And she's ready to protest and snap herself out of it when--

There are hands. There are hands touching her. Pulling at her, leading her, undressing her. Sally's in too much of a shock to protest that particular bit of intrusion of privacy, but it doesn't matter either way. It doesn't matter. Someone is touching her, and that makes her corporeal.

She's fucking alive. Maybe. Is she alive? Fuck if she knows.]

Hey, wait - no, don't shush me, I have questions!

[The woman puts her finger to her lips again. It's bewildering. Sally hasn't been to hell, but she's been to places kind of like it before, and nobody's ever-- okay, that's not true. She's got a big mouth. She's loud and pushy and a little obnoxious, but this is different.

The world is haunted.

The device is put into her hands.]

Okaaay, but - I already knew that? Like, I was one of the things that haunted the world.

[Ghosts are varied, but she's not really sure if she's ever heard of them actively seeking people out who were noisy. Maybe if people were really annoying.]

falling down the stairs. cw: spousal abuse, murder

[It starts with Danny. He holds her by the wrists and screams in her. You're cheating, aren't you? Where's the ring? That damn fucking ring. Even now, even after it's been gone for years, there's a weight on her left hand like it's still there. She's crying and shaking her head. It fell, it fell down the drain. The ring is down the drain, and she loves him. She loves him, doesn't he know that?

He loves her so much that he pushes her down the stairs. Every part of her body aches, but then a sickening crack fills the air. Sally stares at nothing. Blood pools around her.

Sally misses being dead, because it means she doesn't have to sleep, she doesn't have to dream. But it happens again a second night, and Danny kills her again. She guesses she should be grateful it's not something worse. Not shredding, not the hunger that came with being a zombie.

Maybe it's because this was the last awful thing that happened to her as a human.

The third night, there's a door. She pressed her lips together and wonder if it's her door, but that's silly. Why would it be at the end of a hallway?

The only way to go is through the door and down, but when she gets back up, someone else is here. Someone else is watching her and Danny.]

I really should have worn different pajamas.

falling down the stairs

[tacosgay]

[Taako knows what this is by now. Honestly, it was bad enough having to watch his own low point play out; seeing someone else's is a totally different animal, though. Especially given what happens in this one.

He's never been the most sympathetic or gentle elf. Honestly, he can be a real pain in the ass sometimes, just for funsies. But the scene he's watching play out here-- the things this man is doing and saying to this terrified woman...

His expression is fairly level, but there's a definite tension in it, a narrowing of his eyes. His long ears are held up tensely, pressed against the sides of his head.]

Uh... listen, I don't know why I'm seeing this? But lemme just apologize for, uhh... everything. Like. This is a super shitty thing to be dragged into showing somebody else.

Zoe Baker | Resident Evil

[telephoning]

A. Arrival.

[Too much new to watch out for. Too little explanation.

At first, Zoe was... tentatively relieved at a core of who are you when she came to feeling herself guided. Maybe she'd been found. She knew that cop had come knocking; maybe some ruckus attracted a bigger investigation of the estate. If it wasn't his disappearance, maybe Ethan's...

Either way, at least she -- had to be off-property. Was with people again, who were at least... for now acting like they were trying to help. Had a foothold out in the world, had space to... figure this out, maybe make that last stretch on into freedom...!

And she's used to being careful. Making do.

But starting on down the paths, looking other dazed people in wide-eyes, she's finding that... this is the kind of stillness that crawls under her skin. Just a bearing-down sense of uncertainty between the lack of speech - when with people, for change, not a... private regrouping-space - and the increasing... reminders of things she hadn't been told. Feet only on the sand. Don't so much as let a door squeak.

It's -- looking to put at least one solid hook through two layers that much that she enters a basic two-line message on her device.

Eyes flick up into a corner at the closest person, lips momentarily parting before sealing with a couple blinks, and turning, in a careful weight-shifting to straighten, lock eye contact, and flash it. Right in front of her.

One a preemptive if simple and obligatory extension of trust, and the other an honest question. Not asked out of a place of doubt, but of... swallowing, reaching across a gap for something to use to fill in the wide-open unknown.]

My name is Zoe.
What are we afraid of?

B. Falling Down the Stairs.

[She's not... shocked that she's been dreaming about the nights and days she has. Far from a first - though in the past, they weren't specific replayings of old memories. Here and there, one of running for her dear life and hiding in a cranny or a crawlspace with her back to the wall and ribs swelling and falling with wheezes of breath waiting for Daddy to pass in clomping steps along the wooden floor. Mom catching her around the shoulders at the neck and slamming her against the wall, spewing beetles and flies and centipedes and a "Where do you think you're going?!" in the light of a bright lantern through a wild and rotted grin. A tap-tap-tap on the window of her trailer, looking up, seeing Lucas's smirk. Eveline looming like a ghost at the end of a hallway; turn around, and she's already behind you, standing like she's been there the whole time.

Maybe this... direct reliving of things has been... it all sinking in, now that it's away. Now that she's away. Letting her... "feel" it, again.

Too fresh, in fact, for ache - there's still a distance between knowing that a dream is a dream and taking it right in the moment.

She transitions right from the fall through space to her and Lucas's old room, leaning over a little girl on one of the beds with a stack of her smallest set of pajamas fresh-folded and warm from the wash in her arm, rain battering against a black window, with just the distant thought in the moment of recognition. Eveline.

Hasn't noticed that someone's landed next to her yet.

Leans in, whispers, "All right, little girl. Let's get you cleaned up..."

Eveline rolls over. Leans up. "They're mine now," she says.

Zoe mutters a what...

Lightning strikes.

The power cuts.

Little feet batter on the floor like a big damn oversized mouse's. The little girl cackles, and the door slams, god -- where's she going...?! flowing in over a higher level of dread...

-- That collapses down like a visible lacquer with the click of disconnect - this wasn't here - when Zoe flicks her lighter on. Turns to the shut door, mouth just-dropped open. Not quite mouthing another what -- ? Turns again - blinks...

...A stranger.

A -- boom-boom in her heart.

Breathing starts to pick up. Rest of the memory lines itself up and fast-plays, holds her head low, small shakes -- ]

We've got to get out of here -- ...

[Her voice is small and smoky, ending with a thin and turn into a crawl -- this is a dream, yes, but... Using the someone else being here as an anchor.]

C. Wildcard.

[Would you like another prompt, or do you have any ideas of your own? Feel free to hit me with/for anything, here or on Plurk at schmendricks!]

[tacosgay]

being eaten or something i assume

[Taako honestly isn't sure what other answer to give. He's about as tired of this silence as she is-- silence isn't something that he's very used to, and it'd distinctly unnerving for him. There's something incredibly isolating about it; there are all these people around, but the only sound is their breathing, too faint to be picked up by all but the most sensitive ears, and certainly not of any use in communication. The very soft, faint shuffling of sand beneath their feet. Taako's never really felt the sensation of being able to hear a pin drop, but he's absolutely certain now that this is what it must sound like.

Zoe looks as put out and worried as he feels, and he wishes he had something to comfort her with, but he doesn't. All he can really do is shrug, ears expressively drooping low over his shoulders. He's tall, but calling his frame "imposing" would be a stretch; maybe it's how narrow his frame really is, despite his chubbiness making that a bit less evident, or the goofy expression hiding just beneath the aloof front in his eyes. Maybe it's the fact that he's a literal elf with long, pointed ears that dance like a cat's with his emotions. At any rate, for somebody so tall, he's actually pretty nonthreatening in appearance.

He types a message of his own; he's very slow at typing, using the tip of one finger to hunt and peck the keys he needs like a child who's never used a keyboard before.]

my names taako and i dont know whats going on either sorry

elena gilbert | the vampire diaries (s72 crau)

[otrazhenie]

{ a r r i v a l }

[ This is the second time that Elena's woken somewhere strange, under even stranger circumstances. None of this would be all that difficult for her to cope with except - that silence isn't just outside, it's inside as well. Her head is devoid of the presence of the rest of the Nest, her broodmates not even distance flickers she can't reach. They're just gone, as if all five of them were...

She doesn't fight the hands that clean her up, her disorientation so pronounced that she's more worried about hurting someone with her vampire strength if she tries. It's not until she starts to be ushered outside that she protests, quickly typing out on her own device an explanation about her condition: if she encounters direct sunlight, she'll die. Thank goodness the woman takes her at her word; she's allowed to stay there until sunset, and it's only then that Elena ventures out into the community, following the posted signs and taking care with her steps. Enhanced vision helps her see the sand pathways with no trouble as darkness falls, and she'll do her best to make her way somewhere safe without incident. (Which would be so much easier if she wasn't hungry.) But if she finds someone else outside, perhaps having a far worse time than her - well, it's in Elena's nature to help anyone and everyone who needs it. ]

{ r e u n i o n s | for s72 gamemates }

[ The second the awareness of another host flickers into her mind, Elena jumps up from whatever she's doing, nearly knocking over her chair and breaking that precious crystalline silence. She reaches out along that thread of mental connection created between them by the symbiotes, latching onto it with all her mental strength and practically shouting at the other person from her enthusiasm. It doesn't even matter who it is, she isn't alone here anymore. ]

( Where are you?! )

{ w i l d c a r d }

[ Hit me with your best shot! Elena can't go out in daylight because of her (secret) vampire nature, but she can be active during daytime so long as she stays safely out of the sun. Feel free to hit me up via PM, over at taintedcrimson or on discord at taintedcrimson#0896 to chat things out! Anyone wanna get nommed on by a hungry baby vampire? ]

arrival (lmk if this is okay! ..sorry for the novel)

[bloodyrose]

[Sleep has been evading Zero in this world more often than he'd like, even if it's for good reason. It's been a couple of weeks, but he's still extremely unsettled. Normally he's the very definition of composure and calm, even under chaotic situations— that goes to show just how bad the situation is, here. Although that's not to say he's never able to relax. Even just having Yuuki in the same room as him is easing. Having her beside him, and the same in turn, makes all of this a little more tolerable.

Still, it's another night where he's left his designated house to go for a walk, out of not having much else to do. He's become more familiar with the streets of Reims, but the pure silence is still maddening at times. He's certainly not the only one out and about right now.

—However, there still is something that catches his attention. His senses have been a little skewed since arriving. A brand new world, along with an even more varied population. At home it's simple. There are humans (hunters among them), and vampires. Here? Who knows. What he does pick up on, though, leans more to the familiar side than not: the presence is definitely that of a vampire, but not what he's used to. What he doesn't feel is any animosity coming from them (thirst is an entirely different matter).

Either way, he'll approach easily, and not focus on those other parts for the moment. After typing something, he'll show her.]

Would you like to find somewhere to sit down for a bit? I know this is pretty disorienting.

pietro maximoff | marvel comics

[supersonic]

arrival;

[ This is not the first time someone has told Pietro Maximoff to shut up. Be quiet, in his experience, usually means be passive, make yourself easier to digest, accommodate people who have never in their lives considered doing the same for you. (Or, Stop antagonizing Clint, but only one or two people get to tell him that.) After the wake-up he's just had, it's difficult to view any of this in a charitable light. He watches the woman explain with a look that could wilt steel.

At least she doesn't seem to have any ill intent. Not that intent always matters especially much. ]

So the plan is, what? [ he complains to whoever happens to be nearest (you're welcome), ] To walk around on tip-toes for the rest of our lives while these— creatures or whatever they are pick us off one by one?

[ Fantastic. Good job team. ]

falling down stairs; (cw: fire, death, hate crimes)

[ He lands in old leaves and dirt, a billow of decay that sticks to your skin as surely as this place does in his memory. It's late. Wind whips through the woods, the moon shining bright through shuddering branches as Pietro pushes himself up to standing again. Between shifts of the light, he looks smaller — 10 or 12 years old, rawboned in a way well-taken-care-of kids aren't. His knuckles are split — there are footsteps fast through the undergrowth, a teenage boy scrambling up to run away, and Pietro makes no move to follow. Instead he's stepping forward, shaking the sting off his bruised fist and reaching out to comfort—

Someone who isn't his sister. ]

You shouldn't be here, [ he snaps— not in English, but the dream carries his meaning well enough. His shoulders are tight with apprehension. There isn't time to waste. The next gust of wind carries a dry, acrid tinge. Smoke. ]

wildcard;

[ come at me with anything! ]

arrival;

[clawings]

Some kinda bullshit like that. [ Erik is not pleased about any of this, but he knows the only way to properly assess what's going on will involve leaving this room, and active use of his voice, behind.

The more he's thought about it the less he's concerned that he'd be able to manage. He wouldn't go so far to presume it of everyone, however. ]

rogue | x-men: days of future past (s72 crau)

[theycalledmeacurse]

{ arrival }

[ This isn't the station, and it isn't the mountain temple in China. She's landed somewhere new again, her life taking another unexpected turn, and unlike before, she's genuinely unsure whether it's a good turn or a bad one. Flinching away from those hands, she insists on doing whatever they want herself, explaining You can't touch my skin and fumbling through her disorientation as best she can. There won't be any more lives on her conscience, not if she has anything to say about it.

At least the jumpsuit they give her isn't grey, but dark green. Small blessings are all she can hope for these days.

As she walks through her new 'home', if it might ever be considered that, she stops to examine signs, doors, any small sign of soundproofing. She even bends to roll a bit of sand between her bare fingers, feeling the texture and already trying to think of other ways they might stay safe here. ]

{ settling in }

[ Aside from the creatures who apparently want to kill anything that makes sound, this place really isn't so bad. Everything seems better than what she'd faced in her original world, though, so Rogue wouldn't be the least bit surprised if she's in the minority with that opinion. It had been the same on Hyrypia with the other hosts; while she'd been thrilled at being out in the sun among other people, at being free, so many of them had focused on the downsides of their situation and how to get back home. Perhaps things would have been different if she'd had a home to go back to...

But she has been wondering something, craving it more like, so when she finally stumbles upon someone who doesn't look like they'd try to bite her head off for asking a question, she holds out her device for them to read:

I don't suppose there's any coffee around here?

{ falling down the stairs } cw: torture, imprisonment, death

[ The cold silver metal of the lab surrounds her, the usual sheen of Cerebro now dulled from years of being abused during the Sentinel War. She blinks up at the masked figures of today's batch of scientists, all of them covered head to toe but still seeming to have an air of satisfaction around them as they wheel out their most recent victim. Her most recent victim, the young man whose arm they had pressed to her own and held in place until he'd stopped breathing and her skin had glowed with his power while she cried. His mind had settled into her own and she'd apologized again and again as she stuffed him into yet another room in the endless hallways of the house in her mind, the place where hundreds of copied psyches now reside. Her tears fade as the bring out the scalpels again, unzipping the leg of her pants and slicing away strips of her skin to test before moving up to an arm, her stomach. Sample after sample, the pain is a welcome distraction from the agony in her soul.

Another mutant is wheeled in, then a baseline human, these victims only absorbed to the point of unconsciousness and not death. Again and again, the cycle continues, an endless string of experiments to unlock the secrets of her mutation to rid the planet of mutants once and for all.

The new hallway is an abrupt change, not matching any of the ones in her mind. But then she's falling, almost flying, and she wonders if this might finally be it - until she lands in that red dust. And suddenly there's someone else being pulled into that torture, someone there in that lab who never had been before, and she's sorry, so sorry. ]

{ wildcard }

[ You know the drill, show me what you've got! Feel free to hit me up via PM, over at taintedcrimson or on discord at taintedcrimson#0896 to chat things out. ]

settling in - un: socorro;

[warfares]

If not at the greenhouse then you'll have to take your chances with one of the other arrivals.

How pressing is your need?

jon snow | asoiaf (clockbox crau)

[998]

arrival;

[jon doesn't mind keeping quiet. he's willing to part with the clothes sansa gave him, especially if they're going to be returned. he can't see or feel ghost, which is worrying, but not new. he's honestly glad the raven isn't with him. but he needs his sword. he responds furiously to the reset room attendants with the first text program he sees, unaware that he is, in fact, posting on (spamming) the network.]

un: jonsnow
I'll need my sword. It doesn't need to be sharpened and won't make a noise.

It was in my belt. You must have it. Please. It was a gift from a friend.

Any sword, then. A knife. If these things out there are dangerous then I can't walk around unarmed. Neither should you.

I can help. In my world I led an army of the living against monsters and dead things. But I'll need my sword.

Anything can be killed.

[eventually you might find him poking around the town, looking extremely uncomfortable in a blue jumpsuit, holding some kind of big stick in his free hand.]

wildcard;

[you can find me on plurk at bitterends if you want to plan something specific!!! or request a caught me unawares/falling down the stairs starter lol]

arrival

[tacosgay]

[Jon will get a response that he definitely isn't expecting after a few minutes:]

un: themongoose

yeah no you get nothing sorry my dude they wont even let me have my fuckin umbrella

[... they can't possibly know that it's a magic umbrella that allows him to cast, right? Of course not. And to think he was assured that his casting catalyst looking so benign would let him sneak it into places.]

thomas | the maze runner ( films )

[eachother]

ARRIVAL;

[ he doesn't come easily. even with dust burning his eyes and coating his throat, thomas still struggles against the hands gripping his wrists, guiding him forward toward a light he can barely make out through his hazy vision. it reminds him of the scorch, of waking in the middle of nowhere to a streak of lights in the distance, quickly and steadily approaching, and a storm rolling in overhead.

is that what this is...? thomas' brain feels clouded and jumbled, unable to focus on anything long enough to string together a coherent thought. one word flits through his mind, dances through his subconscious like the point of a knife ghosting across his brain, sharp enough to notice, but not enough to leave a last mark. WCKD.

thomas struggles less once he's out of the dusts. maybe he's tired, maybe he's just waiting to see what comes next, for an opening to take. the shower wakes him up a little, and by the time they flush the dust out of his eyes and he's spit the mud out of his mouth, he feels a little less disoriented, but no less angry as he's shoved into a grey-blue jumpsuit.

his eyes do a quick scan of the others in the room, searching for familiar faces — newt, frypan, brenda, jorge, and yes, even minho —, but he can't catch a glimpse of everyone before he's led out of the room and down the hall into another. he has questions, too many of them, and by the end of the explanation, he's almost certain of one thing.

this has to be WCKD.

thomas types out a quick message on the device directed at those who haven't yet decided if they want to venture out of the room yet. his username simply reads, thomas. ]

Does anyone actually believe any of this? Do you remember what you were doing before you woke up, how you got here? Maybe there are monsters waiting to find us by sound, but what if there aren't? How do we know they aren't just trying to scare us into being quiet so no one else can find us?

I don't trust it.

[ but he isn't really sure what to do about it, either. last time, WCKD tried to fool them into feeling safe by convincing them they'd been rescued, providing actual beds and showers and food to eat. this seems eerily familiar in a way that makes him uneasy and hesitant. it almost seems too convenient, too coincidental to be anything else. ]

CAUGHT;

[ if thomas had happy memories before waking up in the glade, he doesn't remember them. they were taken along with everything else about his life prior to the maze, leaving him with only the ones he's made in the short time after, of which there are, admittedly, only a few.

he dreams of the glade. a large, green open space, bordered with tall stone walls and home to a handful of boys who, at one point, were just as confused and panicked as he was when they first arrived some months or years ago. he dreams of familiar faces, some of them gone, now, despite his promises to save them. it's seeing their faces again, calm and relaxed, that make this a dream and not a nightmare. he dreams of laughter, too. fire and food and dancing, a party thrown in celebration of his arrival.

on the third night, the dream starts here. it's dark, but the fire is roaring and the gladers are rambunctious, talking and laughing and horsing around as they eat and drink some godawful concoction that could strip the paint from the maze walls if there was ever actually any paint to be stripped.

thomas isn't at the party, though he's not far from it, either, seated in the grass and leaning back against a downed tree trunk with his legs bent and his feet flat, one wrist resting gently over his knee. in his hand is a skewer of some kind of meat ( pork, probably, though he's not really sure ). the festivities carry on behind him, and at the sound of footsteps creeping closer in the grass behind him ( hey, that's you! ), thomas doesn't even look up.

maybe he's expecting someone. ]

FALLING;

[ the first night, he dreams about grievers. about the maze, about alby's death, and chuck's, and gally's too. he dreams about the compound, of ava paige and the dozens of bodies, of children strung up by their torsos with all sorts of tubes and wires coming out of them as WCKD drained them dry. he dreams of running (running, he's always running) through white halls as sirens wail in the corridors, signaling a lockdown because he's figured it out. they aren't as safe as they thought they were. they haven't escaped at all.

until they do. he dreams of lightning, then, and lights in the distance. they need to go, they need to keep running. they never stop running.

it's the low, distant rumble of thunder that wakes him in his dream. or maybe it's the ache in his bones, brought on by the hard-packed earth he has no choice but to sleep on. either way, he wakes in the scorch, his vision blurred. it's dark, but not pitch black, and there are lights in the distance on the horizon. civilization. thomas pushes up onto his hands, blinks hard until his vision clears.

he's alone, this time, save for one person, still sleeping with their back turned to him. thomas reaches back without looking, but doesn't touch them. ]

Hey, [ he says, somewhat under his breath, repeating himself just a little bit louder and with a little more urgency, his eyes yet to leave the lights. his hand connects with the strangers leg with a muted thump, and then he's up on his feet. ] Hey, wake up. I see something.

[ before he has a chance to feel anything even close to relief, lightning strikes somewhere behind him in the distance, close enough to make him flinch, and then again, somewhere in front. they're out in the open. the tallest points in a deserted waste land. lightning rods just waiting to be lit up.

thomas takes a step back, hand reaching behind him for someone almost instinctively, flinching as another flash of lightning bursts up toward the sky.

they've got to run, find shelter, get out of this storm before they wind up dead. thomas turns, crouching and practically hauling this stranger (welcome to the dream) up by their shoulders, regardless of whether or not they're already awake. the wind is picking up, the lightning drawing closer and closer as it strikes around them. ]

Come on, get up, get up. We gotta go. [ his tone is urgent, firm, but with an underlying sliver of panic as he gives your character's shoulders what's supposed to be an encouraging shove, but is really just a nicer way of saying move your ass without actually saying it. ] Go, run.

[ and if they don't listen, thomas grabs them by the wrist, and runs. he'll drag them along if he has to. he isn't leaving anyone behind. ]

FALLING (B);
( cw: cranks, zombies. creepy shit. )

[ the dream starts in an underground tunnel, the walls tagged with graffiti and covered in spindly black vines. it's eerily silent and pitch black, save for wherever you've aimed your flashlight.

it's likely that your character hasn't bee here before, but thomas has, which is exactly why he puts his arm out in an attempt to keep your character from walking any further, murmuring a near-silent wait under his breath. he knows what comes next, and it's not good.

... but it's too late. there's a smaller tunnel to his right, and as expected, a harmless rat tumbles out of it, skittering past his feet over the thick, black vines that spread across the floor. like an idiot (because he is, sometimes, the biggest idiot of all), he tracks it with his flashlight, following it to a thicker tangle of vines that have grown over part of the tunnel wall.

and then, an arm darts out of the vines, ripping free of them, and something snatches up the rat. something alive, something that was once human, but is nothing more than an infected shell of a person now, ripping away from the wall. vines tear from its pale skin, and its clouded eyes find the both of you in the beam of light from your flashlights. it screams, screeches. it wakes the others. ]

Shit. [ thomas takes an urgent step back, his forearm colliding with your character's chest, guiding them backwards, too. ] Go, go.

[ they're coming. it's time to run. ]

WILDCARD;

[ if none of the above works for you, do yo' thang and drop me something else. i'll roll with it to the best of my abilities. ]

un: Newt

[limped]

No, I don't believe a word of it. I was with you before I woke up here. Don't remember how I got here. I'm suspecting the same thing, but we're not testing it. I don't know that either.

Neither do I.

Hey, Tommy.

Sam Wilson | MCU (station72 crau)

[sizeofyourbaggage]

I. arrival

[ Apparently this is just is Sam's life now. Wake up disoriented and pissed in a shitty ass place with people telling him it's life and death and wanting shit from him - he hasn't figured out where this place ranks on a scale of the Raft to the Station, but then, he hadn't exactly figured out where they rank to each other, either.

He does know that he feels empty. That his heartbeat sounds wrong without feeling it in time with the others, that it's hard to breathe steadily when there's no one else breathing with him, that he keeps slipping and blanking on who he is and what he's lost.

He pushes through by locking everything down, by forcing himself to focus on what's present instead of chasing ghosts and empty spaces in his mind. It's not gonna hold him forever, not by a longshot, but he hasn't forgotten the shit he picked up at the VA.

Talk it over, the woman says, and Sam lets out a frustrated exhale.  ]

This sure as hell ain't the retirement I was thinking about.


II. settling in/network

[ The adjustment is - easier, when Sam discovers he's not alone. That his mind isn't as empty as he thought, even if being this far from the Nest is almost as disorienting as trying to make sense of all of this.

Eventually, he turns to the device for more than just exploring it and learning how it works. ]

un: unleashthefalcon |
I know I'm not the only one who thinks 'hide and hope they don't find you forever' is a really shitty tactic, but hey, who am I to judge?
Anyone been here long enough to get an actual routine going, figure anything out?



 III. caught me unawares

[ Damn near all of the best moments of Sam's life involve flying. Oh, there's other things, sure, mostly involving the people he loves and experiences with them, but the ones he tends to dream about, the ones in bright vivid technicolor -

It's all flying.

He may not have been born with wings, but there's some times when even he forgets that.

A couple nights of good dreams aren't really enough to discount the possibility of drifting off into a nightmare, but he's hopeful anyway.

There's the feeling of adrenaline as he falls, the rush of wind familiar and well loved, even if he can't be sure that this isn't one of the times that nothing's gonna be there to catch him when he falls. He takes a moment to enjoy it, to revel in the feeling of free falling, as fleeting as it is.

He lands with dirt in his mouth, coughing and cursing. He's not alone, and that's new - except it's not, it's not the first time he hasn't been alone in his dreams, or someone else's. His eyebrows raise, but they're falling again before he can ask yours or mine?

And then there's the comfortable weight of wings on his back, and he grins. ]

I hope you're not afraid of heights.


IV. wildcard

[ hit me up with something different if you like! I'm up for anything, and I'm on brbsoulnomming for plotting purposes or whatever! ]

iii

[iisupergirlii]

[Kara collapses on the ground in an awkward, red and blue heap. Where the heck is she? She'd just been flying over National City, and now she's... not.

It had been such a good dream too.

She spits out dirt with a wince, wiping her mouth on the back of her hand, and pushes her hair out of her face to look at the other person next to her. He's grinning, and is that - is he wearing wings? Confusing, but hey, sometimes strangers show up in your dreams. Usually they're not so detailed, but.

With a shrug, Kara doesn't question it, instead grinning herself and pushing herself up off the ground. And by "off the ground," she means off the ground, floating up in the air.]

Yeah, I'd say I'm pretty good with them!

Ellie | The Last of Us

[antigene]

arrival
[If you've been in the community long enough you might be approached the night of the new arrivals. There's a problem with one of the arrivals. A female child is being uncooperative. Maybe there's something that could be said or done to calm her.

Ellie is terrified and feels like she's being held against her will. She refuses to stop shouting insults or lashing out, and won't let her clothes be taken off her body. She's bitten at least half a dozen natives and even a couple of the other new arrivals that tried to help. She's pressed herself into a corner of the room, and is trying hard to glare through the tears that are in her eyes.

Someone new walks through the door and Ellie shoves herself back in the corner even more. If she makes herself look small enough she'll really be able to surprise them when she attacks.]

I'll tell you what I told everybody else. Stay. Away.


falling down : cw assault of a child
Tell them that Ellie is the little girl that broke your fucking finger!

Her own voice echoes in her head every night. She used to dream of Riley, of finding a curse. She used to dream of the infected taking everything from her. More often she had started to dream of Joel, how he was changing her life for the better. Now all she could dream about was that fucker who had tried laying his hands on her. Her nightmares spin in circles, always ending with her killing him and escaping out into the snow. The scuffle wasn't that long in actuality. In a nightmare it can feel like it lasts for days. Ellie's first new nights of sleep are restless.

This night is different than the other nights. She's grateful for the hallway and the door, and welcomes the feeling of falling into nothingness. The dirt filling her lungs and clinging to her makes her heart race. It feels so real as she lands, that she wonders if this is even a dream at all. But she hears her own words echoing in a shout, and can hear herself fighting David. It's a struggle for life or death, for keeping his filthy hands off of her.

She wants to throw up. Reliving this is painful enough, but there shouldn't be an audience. Someone else is here with her, covered in the same red dirt. They're both contaminated, a captive audience in one of the worst moments in her life.

"Stop watching, or I'll stab you in the eye."

network
un: punosaur
I'm not saying beach puns will make anyone feel better, but I'm pretty sure they'll keep us from going cray-sea. I know, I know. I'll need to be more pacific, right? I just fish I could actually say any of this shit out loud.

zombie apoc babies???? | falling down

[limped]

Newt's eyes drop to the floor almost immediately at the threat, and he makes a noise in his throat that sounds like annoyance. His fingers clench at his side, itching to help her somehow, offer comfort. Newt's never been in such a situation and he feels awkwardly placed.

"I can't really do much about seein' it," he mutters, attention forcibly on his hands as he tries to wipe the dirt off on his trousers. Everything in him is itching to fight, to help, to do something for her even if he doesn't know her. Even if she seems as friendly as one of the Cranks that tried to bite his face off.

He doesn't have a weapon on him, and it makes him uneasy, more than her threat.

Isabel Evans | Roswell

[thechristmasnazi]

[ Arrival ]

[ As she wakes and is ushered out of the darkness, her first thought is that this is it, she’s finally been found by the government. Her careless use of her powers has finally caught the sight of some low level FBI flunkie and she’s been caught. Isabel’s only concern is whether or not they’ve got everyone else too.

Water splashes down on her and she looks around frantically, trying to spot her brother, her best friend, or even Tess, but she doesn’t see anyone familiar. It’s not surprising. Even if they’re in this place with these other people, they would try to separate them. They’re too dangerous as a group.

Isabel feels like cursing when the woman tells her to hush, but instead shivers with fear and complies. Maybe there’s more to this than what she had originally thought.

The rest goes quickly. She is handed a device and this new world is explained to her. It’s almost funny to her in a way that isn’t funny at all. Isabel has been trying to escape her world all of her life and now that she’s found herself in this one all she feels is frustration and loneliness. Not to mention the fact that it’s the wrong world.

Being a fashionable socialite, the jumpsuit might as well be a burlap sack. She feels awkward in it as she walks along the sand path, looking around at the sites and trying to find something worthwhile to look at. As she catches sight of her reflection in a window, she scowls. The water dumped on her has caused her hair to dry all… Weird. Quickly, she looks around to make sure no eyes are on her, and she runs her hands over her hair. Miraculously, after she does so, it’s perfectly straight and has a bit of a shine to it. Isabel continues her walk. ]


[ Falling Down The Stairs ]

[ The dream comes as a mishmash of everything that has gone wrong in Isabel’s life. Mostly, it’s other people’s suffering that she hasn’t been able to alleviate. Her brother winding up in a government white room being poked and prodded by agents curious about life on other planets, her best friend being beaten by his own foster father… The one that sticks in her mind and glares at her most prominently, though, is that woman telling Isabel what sort of DNA she comes from, what sort of crimes she committed in her former life, and even going so far as to tell her that she would commit them again. It makes Isabel’s stomach turn every time she dreams about it.

But that doesn’t last long.

Soon, Isabel is walking away from the woman, walking and walking until she comes to a door. She turns the doorknob and steps through only to find herself falling. A cry passes her lips against her better efforts and she lands on the ground in that familiar dust. Looking up, she groans quietly. She isn’t alone. ]

What… Who are you?


[ Network, UN: izzy ]

Just… Curious. Is the jumpsuit the only clothing option?

Network, UN: MadMax

[beyourzoomer]

It is unless you can find other clothes in your size around somewhere. Didn't have much luck with that personally.

Matthew Murdock | MCU

[blessmefather]

[ ooc: For those unfamiliar with Daredevil, Matt is blind meaning he cannot see the screens on the communication devices. He does however have enhanced senses that allow him to perceive people's body movements. You are welcome to either take on the challenge of communicating with him via other means (as I expect the first month to go) or we can assume he has settled in and either learned the local sign language or regained his refreshing braille display so he can read messages on his device. ]

Settling in

This new arrival has had natives fussing over him quite a bit. They make a point of leading him around more than with previous newcomers. They seem to be discussing some sort of technological communication challenge judging by the sign language others catch them expressing in passing. The newcomer has been given a communication device but it remains untouched; he opts instead to use a notepad and pen when speaking to others. The tricky part is when they wish to tell him something. Some squeeze his hand a certain number of times, some write single words on his palm with a finger, others jot down notes on the notepad and he runs his fingers over it. A few properly understand his abilities and realize they can nod their heads yes or no.

There is work to be done so the same people can't spend all day with him. If you happen to be free you might get dragged into leading the new arrival from place to place, room to room so he can learn the layout of his new surroundings without bumping into anything and making noise.

Falling down the stairs

The first few nights of this dream were painful, now Matt is starting to go numb. He knows the routine, the collage of loved ones lost that has been run through so many times it's starting to bleed together. He's starting to find his father's dead body on the ground or floor in the other memories. In the basement floor as his teacher gives up on him, on the roof of the warehouse where Elektra sacrificed herself. Falling is relaxing in comparison; it feels like he can breathe, at least until the moment he finds himself crashing into the dusty ground again.

It seems he has company this time. He gets to his feet and debates whether or not to bother dusting himself off. With a sigh he offers a hand to the other person who fell next to him.

breathes on u

[oorah]

[ over the past weeks, frank castle has become as reliable a shadow as matt's own, following him at length but knowing that the man would easily sense him. he doesn't want to smother him with his very real concerns, sure matt will write them off as disingenuous; but there's also the careful balancing act of everyone else here. frank has earned a place among these people, natives and arrivals alike, that's unlike anything he's ever achieved back home. even in the marines, well. that was a lie anyway.

he watches as matt slowly adapts, biding his time, but also ready and willing to step in should anyone mean him harm. he knows matt won't risk dying, not until he knows what's at stake, but frank is just as ready to jump on that grenade for him. whether or not they're still at lagerheads back home doesn't matter to frank -- here he intends to watch over matt whether the other man wants him to or not (he's betting not.) red could so easily blow up his spot here, and maybe that's why frank keeps his distance for as long as he can feasibly stand to. or maybe it's just cowardice.

things finally come to a head for him when frank walks into the town hall meeting on sunday and sees the other man sitting alone in a bright red jumpsuit. he wonders if anyone's bothered to tell matt the color, but the sight makes his lips twitch either way. he slots into the seat behind the other man and leans forward just an inch, just enough to speak close to his ear so no one else can overhear them. his voice is gravelly as ever, but soft and hoarse too from underuse. ] When I said I'd see you around, this isn't exactly what I meant.

Nick Andros - The Stand

[thisblankpage]

Arrival
[It has to be some kind of cosmic joke, doesn't it? Bringing in a deaf-mute in a world where silence appears to be of paramount importance. But fine. Out of one frying pan and into the fire, right?

It beats being dead.

Still. Nick misses his friends.
He misses Tom.

Nick watches the signs, watches the way the natives move their hands. Not quite ASL but he can probably pick it up in enough time and the communication device? Helpful as hell. Would have been nice back home before the fall.

He finally finds a place to settle in and poke at it, getting to know just how it works before he types something out]
Is it just me or does this place have a weird sense of irony?

Wildcard - come at him!

UN: MadMax

[beyourzoomer]

This place has a weird sense of everything.