TDM - OCTOBER 2020

[robbies]

TEST DRIVE MEME - OCTOBER 2020

Everyone's entitled to one good scare.
CW: Violence, death, mouth trauma, vomiting, needles, razors

---

“Help me. Please, help me…”

A child’s voice, calling out for aid. There’s no rhyme or reason for when it comes to you. It’s so quiet, a whisper in the deepest, darkest corners of your mind. Were it not for the sharp, stabbing pain it pulls out of you, you could ignore it. You could even pretend it’s just your imagination.

It all happens so quickly and powerfully. Left in the dust, your brain struggles to process it all. Blacking out is the least it can do, but it’s also all it can do, and it does so before you even have a chance to fully register just how young the voice is, and how deeply, heartbreakingly lost it sounds.

When you finally awaken with your bare feet tangled in soft sheets, a layer of fuzzy fleece or slinky silk clinging to your body like another layer of skin, the sunlight pouring in from the window next to your bed momentarily blinding you, and the cries of happy children playing baseball outside of it carrying faintly, it all becomes very clear—

Something is horribly wrong.

---

OCTOBER 1st.

It becomes very clear very quickly that this isn’t a simple kidnapping. If you’re twenty years old or older, the bedroom you wake up in is very clearly a couple’s bedroom — with separate beds like a modest, modern couple of course! A similarly lost and confused stranger is in the other. They are your counterpart, for everything in this room has a matching counterpart — the nightstand and lamp each of you have beside your beds, the framed pictures on the wall, even your pajamas. If you’re under twenty years old, your room is smaller but more personalized, filled with comic books, model kits, stray baseball cards littered around the floor. Dolls, fashion magazines of people dressed from a bygone era, stacks of vinyl records neatly arranged next to a record player. And then there are the pictures. They’re everywhere in the house — in a frame on your nightstand, hung on the walls, stuck in the photo albums and scrapbooks lying on your desk or tucked away in drawers. Here you are on your wedding day, exchanging vows with your partner. Here’s you sitting in a fishing boat with one of the younger members of your house. Here’s a picture of you at ten years old getting ready for the first day of school. All of the photographs are aged, sepia, even yellowed and dusty in frames hung for a long, long time. By the time you make it down to the living room, you’ll notice that the television is on; someone must have forgotten to turn it off before they went to bed. On it, a cartoon pack of cigarettes and accompanying cigarette dancers prance around a black and white pumpkin patch, joined by dancing skeletons, ghosts and witches as a cheerful little earworm blares: ”Thirty days til Halloween, Halloween, Halloween, thirty days til Halloween—“

---

GETTING TO KNOW THE NEIGHBORS.

As you get acclimated, you gradually begin to learn more about this strange new world you’ve found yourself in. You’re in a neighborhood on the east side of a town called Santa Rosita located… somewhere in California (wherever or whatever that might be). The year is 1961. If it wasn’t clear enough, your neighbors are more than willing to humor you if you ask. Even if you accost them with questions and demands. Sure, you and your family are a little kooky, and you have a very overactive imagination, but the key to any good joke is playing along! And how could something like “I’m from the future, from another world” be anything but a joke? A. AUNT MYRNA'S PARTY CHEESE SALAD. Over the course of the week, your neighbors will come by unannounced, each with a new homecooked meal to welcome you to their cozy little side of town. Meatloaf, potato salad, lamb chops. Gelatin molds — lots of gelatin molds. Someone even comes by to drop off a gelatinous yellow lump of pineapple, green peppers, celery and yellow cheese swimming in a soupy mixture of sour and whipped cream. “It’s my aunt Myrna’s recipe!” they gush once they drop the casserole tin into your hands, proceeding to rattle off every ingredient. Well, at least you won’t be starving anytime soon. When you bring it back in to your kitchen - and its cheery wallpaper and its floral patterned Pyrex dishware, you and your new...family(?) all stare at the cheese salad, the gelatin, the curiously frosted meatloaf spread. A smorgasbord courtesy of the insistent generosity! Who will take the first bite?

B. DON'T BE A SQUARE!

You can only avoid the cheer and the neighbors for so long, even as you sit inside enjoying all the amenities of your new home. The television can only turn its volume up to five, after all! One bright and sunny Saturday, the weather crisp and clear, news broadcasts and reruns of The Ed Sullivan Show are drowned out by the music in the neighborhood. Eventually it’s too much to bear — you simply must put on your shoes and go discover the source of that infernal racket.

Why, it’s the block party! Haven’t you seen the invitation — with instructions — sitting in your mailbox, silly? Wear a badge so everyone on the block can know you’re new and welcome you to their extended family!

Well! Each neighbor was supposed to set up a table with snacks and drinks and entertainment on their front lawn. Carter Mayhew, one of your Robbie neighbors, has a whole ring toss obstacle course set up for boys to play with, and his wife is cheerfully and blandly instructing a group of girls on jump rope rhymes. Colorful streamers hang from every lamppost and mailbox, balloons and party favors galore. Like you, there are even a few newcomers to Santa Rosita that are caught just as unaware of this event — though others are being welcomed in by husbands and wives and children, caught in conversations about building decks and the upcoming Halloween festivities.

Before you can decide if returning home or joining the party is your choice, a plate with chips and dips and yes, more gelatin is shoved into your hands and a party hat snapped on to your head.

“The guest of honor has arrived! Come and meet your neighbors, neighbor!”

---

THROUGHOUT OCTOBER.

Life falls into a peaceful haze for the next several days. Dull, unassuming, tranquil. As the month drags on, the spirit of Halloween begins to manifest in Santa Rosita, from the pumpkins people start putting out on their doorsteps to the smiling faces of paper skeletons pressed against their windows. And then, towards the end of the month, something terrible happens. You hear it first through word of mouth, rippling through Santa Rosita like a wave, dark murmurs accompanied by sad sighs and downturned eyes. Soon, you start to read about it. Grim business, they say. A tragedy. How could something like this happen. People stop talking about it by the end of the week. Best just to forget about it. Every day, that cigarette commercial comes on. It’s impossible to escape it. And every day, the number of days in the song changes, counting down. ”Thirteen days till Halloween—” “Eight more days til Halloween—” “Three more days til Halloween, Halloween, Halloween…”

---

HALLOWEEN.

CW: Violence, death, mouth trauma, vomiting, needles, razors

October 31st. It sneaks up on you whether you like it or not. When dawn breaks on Halloween day, things are as serene as they’ve ever been as men do yard work, raking leaves as their wives bake fresh pie and cookies in the house, the spicy scent of cinnamon, apple and pumpkin wafting through the neighborhood on chilly October wind. There’s a smile on every child’s face as they skip off the school bus in the afternoon, running into their houses to get their costumes ready. As it begins to get dark, the residents of Santa Rosita start lighting their jack-o-lanterns. One by one, little balls of light flicker to life on every porch and doorstep, jagged smiles grinning in the dark. For the entire night, nobody blows the candle inside their pumpkins out. It’s a tradition, a very old one, and traditions are just another way of saying rules. And Halloween in Santa Rosita, as it turns out, lives and dies by the rules.

A. ALWAYS CHECK YOUR CANDY.

Halloween isn’t just for the kids, although they certainly make up the bulk of who you’ll see out and about on the streets. Walking through Santa Rosita, your neighbors are as generous with handing out treats as they are with handing out gelatin molds and pot roasts, and they don’t discriminate. Adults are received just as warmly as children; the worst one can expect is a quirked eyebrow if they show up to a house without a costume.

Apples, packs of gum, homemade cookies. Chocolate bars, nickels, popcorn balls. Your neighbors hand out all sorts of treats, most of them homemade. The Robbies are no exception, and it’s their treats that seem a bit more high quality than most, some of the candy they hand out being obviously expensive, brand names. The good stuff. They drop each treat into your bag with those same pleasant, mild expressions and too-tight smiles you’ve grown used to in your short time here.

Eventually, as everyone winds up doing at some point in the night, you decide to start digging into your treat bag to sample some of your well-earned goods — maybe in the comfort of your home, maybe outside on the streets. And that’s when the fun begins.

Maybe you bite into metal, the razor sharp end of a blade embedded into the apple or candy bar you’ve picked out burying itself in your gums, or splitting your tongue. Maybe it’s a needle, impaling itself straight through the roof of your mouth or a cheek. Or maybe it’s nothing that obvious. Maybe the realization that something is wrong comes moments after you’ve devoured that chocolate bar or cookie, the bitter aftertaste of rat poison hitting the back of your throat along with bile and the rest of the contents of your stomach as they rise up and out of your mouth.

Or maybe you’ll bite into plain, sweet chocolate or fresh fruit. That’s also part of the surprise. You really don’t know what you’ll get until you start eating.

B. ALWAYS RESPECT THE DEAD.

At ten o’clock, all the television sets in the neighborhood turn on, blaring to life right in the middle of that omnipresent cigarette commercial. The volume begins to rise of its own accord as your television starts to pick up interference, bursts of static squealing amidst the rising, screaming chorus of ”HAPPY HAPPY HALLOWEEN, HALLOWEEN, HALLOWEEN!”

Breaking through the static, garbled and tinny, a child’s voice cries out.

“Can’t— I can’t hold them— back— Pumpkin— don’t blow the— out—”

And just as quickly as it cut in, the voice cuts back out. Commercial jingle notwithstanding, you’re alone once more. But not for long.

The doorbell rings. You can see them outside from your window: costumed children. Their masks and clothes are grimy and ragged from the muddy, slimy water they’ve been decomposing in for over a week. When they come to your door, squelching wetly as they shamble up the porch steps, they ring the bell or knock, as all polite children do. If you don’t let them in, they’ll find their own way, always by force. And once they find you, all they can gurgle in their reedy, waterlogged voices is, ”Trick or treat.”

From there, they attack.

With superhuman strength and speed, they tear and rip at anything they can get their hands on — clothing, skin, muscle, face, eyes. Being short and small, despite their strength, they're at a distinct disadvantage. They can even be thrown off, with some effort. But they don’t stay down for long, and attempting to hurt or mortally wound them only stalls them for a few moments, if that. How can you kill something that’s already dead?

Some in the neighborhood are willing to try and find out.

The only houses they seem to ignore completely are the ones with lit jack-o-lanterns still outside. They’ll loiter outside these houses, staring straight ahead at your door or window like they can see exactly where you are. But sooner or later, they’ll pass by and move onto the next house.

As long as the candles in carved pumpkins stay lit.

---

OOC INFO

Hello, and welcome to We're Still Here's first TDM! Here's a few things we'd like you to keep in mind:

The TDM is canon. You can treat this as the game's first real event and pick and choose what threads you would like your character to remember when they enter the game. For characters who app into the game, the events of the TDM will be treated like a dream. Upon awakening from it, characters will find that time has jumped ahead to December 1st. You may also feel free to use similar reality and/or time distortions to explain why the family members your characters have in the TDM aren't the same as the ones they may be assigned to in the game proper.

If you would like to have Halloween content in your relaxed housing prompts, please feel free! You are not beholden to follow our prompts exactly so long as the spirit is maintained.

There is no Network prompt listed, but feel free to wildcard one for your characters anyway.

Although the TDM is canon in the sense that characters are free to remember its events when they app into the game, it does not count as an official plot heavy event, meaning that characters will not receive regains from participating in it.

With regards to the dead trick-or-treaters: you may NPC them however you'd like, but keep the details we've listed in their prompt in mind. They are supernaturally fast and strong, will ignore houses as long as they have a lit pumpkin on the porch outside, and will try to enter each house the moment the candle in the pumpkin goes out. Additionally, they can't be killed, but they can be momentarily stalled by injuring them. By November 1st, 6AM, they will disappear the moment the sun comes out.

---

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Comments

QUESTIONS

[robbies]

Re: QUESTIONS

[marryonette]

a quick one!

is it possible for el to find a gun of any sort in her house. whether it's "home defense" sort, or hunting sorts, or anything of the like? and what sort of ammunition would present, if any?

Sans the (former) Skeleton | OTA

[ribticklers]

A; October 1
[Sans is not having the greatest morning.

First of all, his bed is a bed and not a mattress. It's also a lot smaller, so he rolled right off it and onto the floor. Wait, no, first of all falling off the bed meant he's up way earlier than he wants to be. But third of all--or something--he's in a weird room, in a weird house that definitely isn't is. Fourth of all, at some point he realizes he's all weird and squishy and human. A human who needs glasses, apparently, because he can't see a thing unless he's got it held an arm's length away from him.

But he finds some glasses and he puts on the first shirt that he finds in the closet and stumbles outside and--

He sees the sky.

And he just stands there, on the lawn, like a weirdo in bunny slippers, staring up at nothing.]

B; Gelatin Molds
[It's a good thing someone is providing food, maybe. Sans, at least, accepts the gelatin mold with unrestrained glee. You may catch him bringing the thing back in the direction of the house he apparently lives in now, or you may be one of the unlucky people living there too. Either way, Sans is going to shove it in your face.]

Look at this, it's hilarious. [It's like a moldsmal, but made of (maybe) food!]

C; Always Respect the Dead
[It's funny--Sans doesn't realize the problem at first, because while his jack-o-lanterns are terribly made and aggressively lazy (one which is definitely not doing anything to help just has "sans" written on it in marker), he has them lit up for Halloween because that's part of the fun. But there's no way Sans would think to check if they were still lit, especially when he passes out on the couch.

Anyway, that's how Sans wakes up to three very dead-looking kids smashing the front window and trying with more success than he was prepared for to eat his fucking arm, what the hell. At least, for once in his life, he has a size advantage.

He's still trying to process that he's bleeding and what that means as he ducks outside, slamming the door in the faces of the pack of children.]

Do human kids take Halloween this seriously everywhere? [His laugh is half-hysterical. They're going to be climbing out of that broken window again soon, he's sure of it.]

( gelatin molds. )

[sunborne]

Gross.

[ daylight makes a face, scooting back as if afraid the... the... the thing he has to call 'food', for lack of a better word, might attack him.

a silly thought, he knows, but he also thought it would be silly to be fully human and yet-

he crosses his arms, frowning at the still(!) jiggling plate with clear trepidation. ] Do you think they actually expect us to eat it? I think there's, like, this rule to this thing. How we're expected to give back the gifter's plates and dishes after eating the food.

Anduin Wrynn | Warcraft | ota CW: Needles, Razors in later prompt.

[shalamayne]

(arrival)
Help me. Please, help me...

[ Anduin wakes up slowly despite the urgency of the voice he'd just heard, taking his time to come around to the fact he's not where he ought to be. It had only been moments ago he'd been in Stormwind, discussing Old Gods with his advisors before hearing a voice, but that didn't explain why he was suddenly in a comfortable bed staring at an unfamiliar ceiling. Anduin reigns in the momentary panic at the thought that this could be an Old God's interference, opting to simply take a breath and try to think this through rationally as he makes a move, sitting on the edge of his bed. Common sense and strategy would dictate at least looking around before causing a scene, to gather what intel he could so making the right decision would come more naturally.

That and the whole place is quiet, it almost feels serene with the way the sunlight filters through the window and that alone is worlds apart from his own home. Even the pyjamas he's wearing are comfortable but also fit as if made specifically for him. Opening the wardrobe shows more outfits, all ones Anduin are unfamiliar with in terms of style yet a glance tells the young King that each one would have no problems in fitting.

Soon enough he's wandering into the kitchen, having managed to slip in to a pair of trousers and a shirt. Anduin feels underdressed but there's nothing more than these, no robes or suits of armour to be donning and a cursory glance around the kitchen lets him know that the strangeness doesn't stop. He can even hear a strange noise coming from the other room, letting him know that there are only so many days until Halloween!]

Hello? Is anyone here?

[ It's better to just speak out loud, to find out just whose abode he's found himself in. If someone else is around then they may just have the answers, that and the idea he's completely alone in whatever bizarre thing is happening is a little unnerving. That is, until, he sees the pictures and the handwritten notes on the fridge. He's in those pictures, there's no mistaking his own face and long blond hair! But even more startling is the fact the writing is his own, instantly recognisable! the sense of strangeness only serves to dig it's claws in all the more and now the sense of panic is starting to make itself known.]

Anyone? What is this place?

(Party Cheese Salad)
[ Anduin still isn't sure what's going on. He had been hoping to look for some kind of a library, a place full of information but instead he's been caught up in a whirlwind of visiting neighbours. Luckily for Anduin he's a King, he's been brought up learning how to constantly meet new people and each time a gift of food shows up he gives his best smile and most gracious thanks no matter how many times he has to say it. That seems to be all he gets though, any comments about another world or such seem to be brushed off as a joke and the oddity of it all doesn't go unmissed.

The latest gelatin tests Anduin's noble poker face, his smile just a little wary as he glances at the creation. Is it edible? He doesn't know, it could be an assassination attempt from the looks of things. Anduin still manages to say thank you before bringing the food in to place on the table along side all the others.]

Would it be rude to declare that I shall not be eating that?

(Checking candy, cw: needles, razors)
[ Anduin gets sent out in a makeshift outfit. He isn't even sure what it's meant to be but some of the residents had seemed encouraging and it would serve a purpose; it covers Anduin's face and lets him look around without others taking notice of him doing as much. No-one so much as bats an eyelid at the tall young man walking around, he only gets generic compliments and piles of candy before he's moved on to the next one. This holiday is familiar at least, something similar is held back home and Anduin pauses by his supposed house to take a bite out of some chocolate, instantly yelping as a needle suddenly digs through the side of his cheek.

He makes a move to heal himself before remembering his powers are gone, there's no connection to the light here and Anduin can't help but grimace, removing his mask to and bracing himself to pull the needle out in one swift move.]

Does anyone have a bandage?

[ Anduin briefly glances towards his bucket of candy, only just managing to spy a razor blade buried amongst the items along with some more needles. How? When?? Whatever it is, someone is out to do some real damage and the thought someone would do something during a time when there are so many small children around....]

What is going on here? [ The nearest person with a candy bucket gets a warning.] Be careful, there are dangerous things in there!

(wildcard)
[ ooc: down with anything, feel free to PM or ping here. Am absolutely down with more family members and the likes too!

As Anduin is nineteen years old he's considered the child of the family even if he's a high king and adult sized.]

( checking candy. )

[sunborne]

Huh-?

[ daylight stops in his tracks, turning to face the person who had spoken to him. much as he's finding himself getting swept up by the hunt for sugary treats, the alarm in their voice, and the warning itself, grabs his attention.

wanting a better look at the guy, day sets down his candy bucket and fumbles with the eyepatch and beard of his cobbled-together 'pirate' costume. it allows his confused yet concerned expression to be more clearly seen- he's... puzzled, clearly, but he's willing to hear him out. ]

What's dangerous?

Erwin Smith | Attack on Titan | OTA

[13thcommander]

October 1st

[OOC: feel free to be his spouse or one of his kids if that appeals to you!]

[Erwin jerks awake with a start, his entire body contracts as he lunges forward. He nearly brains himself on his knees, and flails out with an arm that isn't there anymore to brace himself. When he fails to catch anything--of course he fails, his right arm is gone now, bitten off by a titan, he has to use his left and his left only--he nearly goes sliding to the floor, and it's only pure good luck that he stamps one foot down and manages to keep from toppling over.]

[Rocks. Flying rocks, filling the sky. Horses screaming, the soldiers around him screaming, the air full of deadly missiles, the city behind him in ruins, and a child's voice... a lost child, crying for help...]

[Erwin shakes his head. Control. Control, he has to control himself, he can't let them see him this way, he has to... he has to...]

[What?]

[Erwin opens his eyes, and takes in his surroundings for the first time. He almost fell because he's in a bed, and the sheets are made of some kind of slippery material, too soft by half. The room is too bright, too homey, too lived in. This isn't a barracks, or a hospital, or even his own quarters. It's someone's home, and he's in their bedroom, wearing pajamas and sleeping in their bed.]

What the hell?

Getting to Know the Neighbors: B

[It's been a few days, and this place, this world, still feels like a bizarre dream. Erwin would think it was the afterlife, except he's still missing his arm, and has nasty scars across his abdomen that he doesn't remember getting. He's been told, by some of the neighbors, who shake their heads indulgently and then thank him for his service, that he'd fought in something called World War II, and that's where he lost his arm, where he got his scars.]

[Except that's impossible. The idea of a world war implies a world, groups beyond the walls, and yet that's exactly what everyone here seems to believe in. They're in some place called California, in the year 1961, which is over a thousand years in the future, and honestly, some of the technology around here feels like it's from a thousand years in the future. Erwin still hasn't gotten used to cars, or the television, with its incessant chanting about something called Halloween.]

[Still, Erwin is going to survive this, and his innate curiosity starts to get the better of him when he makes it a few days without anything attacking him or any obvious danger. And when you're in uncharted, undiscovered territory, the best thing to do is to make a map of it, to figure out where you are and what's going on, so you're ready when things go to hell.]

[A big part of that is getting to know the locals, and so when everyone takes to the streets to celebrate something called a block party, Erwin ventures out to go see what it's all about. He wears clothing from the closet that is apparently his--a shirt so bright blue it's almost blinding, patterned with white flowers--and walks from stand to stand, introducing himself and trying the food.]

Hello, I'm Erwin Smith. I just got to town, and it looks like I'm your new neighbor. It's a pleasure to meet you.

Halloween: B

[Now this is more like it.]

[Erwin had dutifully followed the neighbor's advice and put candles inside carved pumpkins--seems like a waste of food, but it's cool out tonight, and he can take the pumpkins inside tomorrow to figure out how to preserve them--and so when the rotting children descend to the street, his house is left alone. Some of his neighbors, other new people like himself, weren't so lucky, and Erwin watches in horror as a house nearby gets overrun.]

[The children are small, but the swarming behavior is the same. The mindless reaching, the clamoring mouths... Erwin knows this, and knew this place was too good to be true.]

[He doesn't have his horse, or his gear, or the Survey Corps at his back. But he's got a house that the kids are leaving alone, and there's a butcher knife in the knife block in the kitchen. Erwin grabs it, and takes to the street, making a beeline for the house the kids are swarming around.]

Get outside! Come with me!

[The kids are easy enough to bounce aside, but a blow to the back of the neck only staggers them. They get back up and keep coming, and it really is like being in the middle of a nest of tiny titans.]

Get out of there! Now!

Neighbours

[choicewithnoregrets]

[After Erwin is done greeting someone, if he's not fast enough to turn around, he might feel a kick to the back of his knees.

Someone's grumpy for waking up in a weird place and now even more since he's seeing ghosts. Of course he wants to check if he's real.]

ᴅᴇᴀɴ ᴡɪɴᴄʜᴇsᴛᴇʀ → sᴜᴘᴇʀɴᴀᴛᴜʀᴀʟ

[righteously]

mi casa es

[ Dean Winchester wakes up careful, but he does not wake up easy. There's an undeniable measure of wariness in his posture, in his eyes, in the silent steps he takes as he navigates through an unfamiliar house. The bed across the room, be it empty or housing a sleeping body, will get a long and scrutinizing look before he creeps away toward the hall. A framed photo of himself catches his attention; grey and tan and white, smiling wider than he has in years, standing with his arm thrown around somebody that distinctly is not his brother. What ultimately pauses his Stealthy Sleuthy Creeping is the jingle playing out on the world's oldest television. His voice comes out in an incredulous whisper. ]

What the hell?

[ Whatever the case, it breaks his silence and therefor all his effort at moving around undetected. After that, anything's fair game. Photo albums get ripped off of shelves and flung open for a hasty and unthorough look at photographs of himself with people he doesn't recognize. Vinyl records get pulled out, scoffed at, and then flung over his shoulder with the air of a man too good for whatever it was he just read.

This distrust and bad attitude will linger for the first several days. You can find him poring over books, photos, any material he can find look for a clue or a discrepancy, looking for anything. Subtly and oh-so-charmingly grilling the neighbors when they come by to drop off food, which he... actually does eat with some amount of gusto for the first couple of days.

Until the gelatin molds. Until the god damn molds. After that his smile becomes strained, shifts to disgust as soon as the door slams shut in Whoever McSally's face, and he flings it onto the dining room table without a speck of care. ]

I swear to friggin' god if I get one more Jell-O mold I'm gonna shoot myself in the face. This is freaking disgusting. Who the hell puts-- is that sour cream? Is that sour cream in a Jell-O mold? That's it, I'm killing everyone. Just. Everyone.

sweet tooth

[ As the days and weeks pass, Dean's attitude calms down to something reasonable — most of the time. He's still relentless in his pursuit of answers, but he does it in an almost impressively charismatic way. He slips in like a chameleon to talk shop with the neighbors, nice hedges Ron. How's that deck coming, Steve? You seen any of those racoons out by the garbage cans? Little rascals. Mixed into the perfectly pleasant conversation are gauging questions about the town. You hear about that bus crash? What was the deal with that guy? Anybody that you can think of he's got beef with? Who's the mayor? Say, you wouldn't happen to know where I can find some town records?

He's even festive on Halloween itself, because ya boi has an unrepentant sweet tooth. Costumeless but also shameless, he strolls on up to a door with a couple trick-or--treaters. Holds out his hand with a beaming smile, accepts his candy bar, and strolls away already ripping the thing open to take a bite.

He makes it all the way to the sidewalk before cursing loudly, freezing, and reaching slowly in to pull a freaking razor blade out of his gums. Blood spreads between his teeth, spills over his lip, and he stares at it in uncomprehending disbelief.

And then rage.

Watch a grown man fling a razor blade and a candy bar onto the ground, then storm right on back up to that house to start pounding on the door. ]

Open up you son of a bitch! What the hell's your problem? So help me god if you don't open this friggin' door—

not today satan

[ He knows what's up as soon as the static on that television starts rising. It brings him a long beat of pause, and then as soon as he gets his shit together he starts tearing open cabinets, flinging cans and spices and boxes of flour out onto the floor in a desperate search for a tube of salt. Thin lines go down in front of the front door, the back door, the windows, anywhere with an opening — he's only part way through the biggest living room window when the knock comes. It freezes him in his tracks, tube still in his hand, unmoving. If anyone's around, they're getting a sharply barked, authoritative: ]

Don't answer it!

[ Salt's abandoned in favor of snatching up the nearby fireplace poker like a bat, and then he creeps around to subtly nudge the curtain enough to see through the gap.

"Trick or treat."

Except their clothes are sopping wet and ragged, falling apart, and their voices — Dean calls out with his back pressed against the wall. ]

We're all out!

[ Not dissuaded, the knocking becomes a pounding. Polite voices become demanding, a cacophony of chanting "Trick or treat," and he sighs quick like he's gearing up for something. ]

Well, it was worth a shot.

[ And then they break through the window. So begins Dean's clearly well-practiced unapologetic technique, bashing in tiny little skulls with the fireplace poker until they overrun the house. He goes staggering across the lawn, searching out patterns, trying to figure out why the hell some houses are getting tagged and others aren't. Along the way, he'll swoop in and whack the heads of any kids attacking civilians. ]

wild card

[ come at me with anything, I love to improvise. hit me up with questions at rifting ]

mi casa es (su casa)

[ctn_0452_9]

You'd get overrun in five minutes. Too many of them and only one of you.

[Said without a hint of reproach or remorse as Cortana pushes the mold aside from where it slid into her notepad on the table. The contents wiggle in a very non-appetizing manner, but at least it seems...nominally edible. Mostly. She pushes it a little further aside and scrunches up her nose. Yeah, no thanks, she's sticking to the canned goods in the pantry for a while longer.]

I'd prefer military rations myself. At least you know what's in those.

Cortana | Halo 4 | OTA

[ctn_0452_9]

A: October 1st
[This is not what she expected. At all.

People coming back from the dead is not medically unheard of in her time, but that requires certain things. Medical care, the appropriate situation, actually being an organic being and not a collection of thoughts and light. So for Cortana to suddenly wake up in bed, silken pajamas clinging to her skin--her skin! that's new!--well. Maybe she can be excused for coming awake with a strangled gasp and a knot of tangled sheets. A racing heart and adrenaline rushing through her veins is new--so new--and all the feelings that come with it are a mess of unknowns and first experiences and she can't quite adjust to mobile limbs in the first few seconds of awareness so.

Yeah, she just fell right out of bed with one hell of a thud. Roomy, she'll apologize for that thud if it woke you, once she's done staring at her hands. They're not blue anymore. She's not blue anymore.

She's alive.

Or, if you've managed to sleep through that you may be instead awoken by a piece of clothing hitting you in the face. She'll apologize for that too. Later. Because at that instant her side of the room pretty much looks like it just went through a windstorm, clothing tossed haphazardly onto her unmade bed, bits and baubles set aside in a wild search for understanding. It doesn't come easily, or quickly. At the first signs of life from the other person in the room she turns, electric blue eyes wide.]

Is this--are you--[Words, Cortana! She pauses, swallows, tries again:] This is real, isn't it?

[A bit later, once she's had time to calm down and adjust to this new frame, it's possible to find her sitting on the front lawn, her knees drawn up to her chest and bare feet digging into the perfectly manicured grass. The skies are clear and blue and bright, but her eyes are closed. She seems to just be...soaking up the sun? Strange woman, this one.]

B: Mid-October
[This has all been one hell of an adjustment, but when two weeks of attempting to question the locals amounts to little more than tittering laughter and a whole lot of nothing useful, Cortana switches tactics. Blend in, earn their trust, and maybe--just maybe--someone who knows something will let something slip.

Or maybe they don't. But more often than not Cortana can still be found walking the neighborhood, and if she spots anyone--local or otherwise--putting up decorations she heads over.]

Need a hand with that?

[Or, if you instead walk by the house she's at, she can also be found on her front porch, up to her elbows in pumpkin guts as she carves a lantern for the festivities. The pattern is perhaps a bit much for such an...interesting canvas, but she's trying! Or, you know, would be, if the article in the newspaper she'd laid down hadn't caught her eye. She's frowning as she reads it.]

Twenty bodies can't just disappear like that. What happened...

C: Always respect the dead. CW: Violence, potential for injury.
[The festivities are well underway, but after nearly a month of this place and its...eclectic variations on food, Cortana doesn't much want to test her luck with candies. Instead she's inside the house, writing away on a notepad as she sits on the couch, when the static breaks the calm. She's left staring at the screen as it returns to normal, blinking. That sounded like a bad comms relay, but how could it--this technology's too old for that so how--

Yet more unanswered questions.]

Well, that was weird.

[And then, without warning, there's a crash from next door. Pausing only long enough to look at whoever's nearest to her, she hits the front door at a run only to come to a screeching halt on the porch, nearly hitting the sputtering jack-o-lantern she left by the steps. The candle has nearly burned down to nothing, but her attention is on the gaggle of children standing at the end of the driveway, watching. Waiting.

Another crash from down the street pulls her attention up. More kids breaking through front windows, pounding down front doors, and people in need of help. The children outnumber them a few dozen to one, it seems. Children, just like the ones waiting at the end of the drive. One of them tilts their head at her, watching her right back. If anyone comes up beside or behind her, she bars their way with an arm thrown out and a low, dark whisper.]

Go back inside and find a weapon. We're about to get attacked.

A!

[13thcommander]

[You know what's easier than dealing with your own existential questions about where you are and how you got here? Helping someone else who seems even more confused than you are.]

Are you all right?

[Erwin kneels beside the woman, awkwardly offering her his arm to help her up.]

You didn't hurt yourself, did you?

Desmond Miles | Assassin's Creed | OTA

[moderndayassassin]

Arrival, Oct 1

Desmond remembers pain like nothing else he'd experienced. No injury, no stabbing, no gun wound, nothing could compare to what felt like electricity burning every part of his body from the inside out. His world didn't black out soon enough but it did mercifully soon. And then he wakes up, blurrily, no longer feeling like he was made of fire but nothing is familiar.

"Dad?," he murmurs first. Did he come back and get him? What about the others? This room looks like nothing familiar and he's not wearing his clothes. The sun is so bright and he rolls out of bed way from it, still feeling faint, and then struggles to get to his feet and figure out where he's at. If there was someone else in the bedroom, Desmond doesn't notice, instead he stumbles down the stairs, squinting at this odd place. The photos make no sense. The old television makes no sense. Where did they bring him now?

He moves out of the door to look around and the light is blinding yet again, causing him to just sit on the doorstop, his head pounding, so very confused. "What the fuck," is all he manages to mumble.

Don't be a square!

Things don't make more sense and Desmond's fairly certain he's stuck in some kind of in-between consciousness world again. Sometimes when looking at the pictures he starts to think maybe this is real, but it's complicated, and his head feels like it's always swimming these days. He confusedly takes all the food that is delivered by eerily smiling people. He never grew up in a neighborhood, let alone one straight out of an old TV sitcom.

He figures maybe he could get some answers or a bead on what the hell his mind or outside forces are doing to him now if he goes out. Desmond isn't shy by nature so he is only cautious when he approaches the unexpected block party because this place has been slowly creeping him out since he arrived. He's used to tending a bar and making small talk with everyone who comes in, but it's been awhile, he's rusty.

Someone hands him food (or did he unknowingly get it himself?) but when the person moves to put the hat on his head, he reaches out and snatches the wrist sharply. His instincts are still fast and defensive, and he's not holding it all that nicely. He pushes them aware quickly and then realizes he's not exactly acting in the spirit, is he?

"Sorry. Um. New?" If anything the lack of real reactions to his behavior deepens the weirdness. Desmond moves back over to the food table.

"Where's the booze. I need a vat of it," he asks the nearest person, whether or not they're part of this group.

Always Respect the Dead

Desmond has never had a Halloween before. That's not a thing where he's from. They used to do something fun at the bar for it, decorations and specialized drinks, but no trick-or-treating. He wanders the neighborhood curiously, having found the outskirts of the town but not gone anywhere, and he tries to resist being given any candy.

"No, it's cool, I'm not." A kid. Trick-or-treating. No one ever takes no apparently. "Fucking hell." He mutters under his breath and takes as few things back. He doesn't look at them when he gets back to the house, or the television that might've been a warning. He's not at his best currently.

When the doorbell rings he winces because he for sure doesn't think he has any candy for them. He does have what he was given so he figures he'll do his best, opening the door to find what has to be the start of a legitimate horror movie standing in front of him. "Those are some ... real good costumes ...." They seem like they plan on coming in and Desmond's concern starts to rise. "Uh, no, here, wait."

They push their way in and since they're kids (creepy as fuck kids) he just steps back. Then they pounce. Luckily his instincts and skills are still intact, even if it took him a bit to realize the situation. If his Eagle Sight was working he would've already known, but nothing's working quite right. Desmond dodges and moves smoothly, the attacks being avoided rather than hit back. But he can't do it forever. After they manage to land a blow and pain snaps through him, so does his control snap.

Desmond fights back, breaking limbs, still trying not to kill, but they don't seem to even care when he twists arms and slams down knees. "Night of the Living Dead, goddamnit." He snags two by the back of the neck and flings them right out the door, following behind to try and get them out of the house and after him. He notices there are houses with flames lit and people inside doing just fine, so zigs and zags and pounds on one of them. Will they let him in?

Wildcard

[Message me on plurk if you have questions/ideas.]

always respect the dead.

[combatted]

'Inside,' Dick orders, as the door swings open for Desmond, and is summarily shut right after. He has a bat in his hands, the excuse of a baseball and a glove sitting on the coffee table. It's no utility belt, it's no useful tool, but it hits, and it breaks bones, and it'll do in a pinch. He doesn't know if they avoid the houses with the lit lanterns forever, but it buys them time. 'What's your name?'

Dick Grayson | Batman '66

[holyrpaccount]

[October 1st]

[The house Dick wakes up in isn't that different than the one he's used to, not really. Same style of decor. Same level of technology. Smaller than Wayne Manor, but then, most places are.

Still. His room at Bruce's place wasn't this... well, childish. The baseball cards scattered around the room are real swell, and the way the bed is made up to look like a race car is pretty neat, but it's not exactly his style. He's a young man, not a little boy.

After a quick look around the room, Dick decides it's about time he creep out and examine the rest of the house, detective-style.]

Bruce? [He calls out as he slowly makes his way through the house. He's not in his Robin uniform, so he feels a little unprepared, but it'll be fine.] Alfred? Anyone?

[Getting to Know - A]

[Well, Dick has certainly adjusted to this life better than most of his co-captives. He sits at the dinner table, beaming when he sees the gelatinous concoction his fellow housemate brings over.]

Is that ham in aspic?! [He picks up a fork and knife, napkin already tucked into his shirt collar.] Oh boy!

[Getting to Know - B]

[Dick wants to be suspicious, but it's hard when everyone is so nice. He mingles around the party, beaming at whoever he talks to, intending to get the lay of the land while Bruce isn't around.]

Gee, this place isn't so bad, is it? [He shoves a forkful of something gelatinous into his mouth, smiling.] And the food's great! Say, why the long face...?

[Halloween - B]

[Okay. Okay, so the place isn't as nice as he thought.

Dick doesn't feel too great about hurting kids, but, well, when the kids are inhumanly strong, fast, and determined to hurt other people, that supercedes the "don't hurt someone smaller than you" rule, doesn't it?

Somehow, he's managed to make his way out of his own house after fending off a pack of the little rascals. But he can tell more are after the others without lights in their pumpkins, and, when a door opens and the kids lunge at whoever's behind it, Dick springs into action.

This time, since it's Halloween, he is wearing his Robin outfit -- thankfully, it ended up with him, somehow. It makes him feel more confident as he dives into the fray, kicking a feral child off of its latest victim with a KAPOW.]

Holy zombie trick-or-treaters, Batman! You-- [He turns to whoever opened the door after punching away another costumed corpse.] --get somewhere with a lock! I'll take care of it.

[A kid grabs him by the cape, pulling sharply down. Dick stumbles back, choking.

So maybe the cape wasn't a super great idea, all things considered.]

Getting to Know B

[ribticklers]

[Sans had been hanging around the edges of the party, a pensive look on his face, but as soon as someone approaches him, he seems to remember to smile again. It's a little like flipping a switch. He's going to have to remember his face doesn't just stay in the smiling position at all times.] I dunno, I'd call my face 'round', not long, but I'm no face expert. [He winks.] You seen this kinda food before?

ellie | the last of us | ota

[thevalley]

[(ooc; feel free to play like you're part of her assigned family!))

1. October 1st

What the fuck is this place? Ellie's found herself stripped of her guns, her knife, and all the tools she's used having to keep herself safe. All she's got is a goddamn lamp she picked up from the bedroom.But her safety isn't on her mind: if she's here, where the hell are Dina and JJ?

She creeps around the halls, her face twisting in distaste at the pictures of her like she's part of this family. Against her better judgement, she grabs one of the photos on the mantle and slams it face down, hard enough to crack the glass.

She continues creeping, lamp in hand, towards the kitchen. At least there she can pick up a knife.

Except that's when she meets... you. Eyes widening, she jumps back and waves the lamp threateningly. (Which... is admittedly not very threatening in and of itself]

Back up! Back the fuck up! Who are?

ii. Aunt Myrna's Party

[There's another knock at the door. Which means another one of those... things. Those wiggly, awful disgusting things that honestly make Ellie want to gag just looking at it.

In fact there's two. Ugh. One she picks up, looks at, and then hurls out across the lawn into a tree and yells into the air (maybe loud enough for you to hear it):]

This shit's not edible!

[Not that it deters anyone. So she'll bring ANOTHER ONE inside and drop it on the table for anyone who's around.]

I'll give you five bucks if you eat that.

[Dryly. She doesn't have five bucks. Do not take her up on it.]

iii. Respect the dead

[Ellie has always thought that Halloween seemed like garbage and now finds herself completely vindicated. Not that she has anyone to gloat to because she's busy trying not to get murdered by evil fucking undead children.

She has a knife in her hand, just a kitchen knife, but it's clearly the biggest damn kitchen knife that she could find and is covered in a nice amount of blood. She needs to find a safe house. The children don't go where the candles are lit. She can't fight them so this is her only choice.

If she catches you on the street, struggling, she'll take the knife and slam it as deep as she can into the undead's skull before gesturing for you to get up.]

Come on, come on! They don't stay down for long. We gotta get outta here.

[Or maybe you live in one of the safe houses. If so, Ellie will pound on your door until you open it. If you do, she'll look you up and down before saying, brusquely.]

The candles keep them away. This is a safe house.

[So? Let her in? The bloody girl with the big knife? Come on?]

ix. Wildcard

[Feel free to PM me with any ideas, questions, thoughts!]

1!

[ctn_0452_9]

[Having gained her land-legs quickly enough, one of the first things on Cortana's mind had been a sweep of the house. Check for other people, check for danger, check for weapons. Not necessarily in that order, but it still lead her downstairs. Busy combing through the kitchen cabinets--cans, cans, gelatin powder, more cans--she doesn't hear Ellie approach, but she sure as hell hears that order and whirls around, hands instantly coming up.]

Easy, easy! I'm not going to hurt you!

[Slowly, she starts to lower her hands. It's meant to be a soothing gesture, a wordless call for peace, but she doesn't take her eyes off of Ellie. Poor girl's probably as spooked as she is, just. Taking it much more violently. That lamp has to come down before somebody gets a whack on the head.]

My name is Cortana. What's yours?

archer / archer / hit me up fam

[undiagnosed]

blue skies are gonna clear up

a. [full disclosure: this is not the first time archer has woken up in a strange place with no memory of how he got there. he barely remembers the nightmare of the child calling out for help thanks to the beginnings of a painful hangover forming, which... honestly is for the best. his reaction is already poor enough without him thinking his own kid is in danger.

he doesn't stay in the bedroom long when he regains consciousness regardless of what the unfortunate person stuck in there with him does or says. he staggers downstairs, mostly ignoring anything they might say to him with any responses being non-committal grunts or irritable dismissals, searching through the cabinets with purpose until... ah! a bottle of whiskey. it's not a 60s house without one of those, is it? archer pours himself a drink and leans back against the counter, finally giving his surroundings his full attention.]

So, you're gonna give me back my tactlecane or I'm gonna start breaking bones, [he calls out, not particularly at the other members of the house but not not at them.] just, you know, a polite heads up!

b. [once he's ascertained the "family" he's with are in the same odd situation as him (as sick to his stomach as even having a pretend family makes him, for many reasons he couldn't even begin to list off), archer isn't as rude or frosty with them. the kids, especially.

he's actually kind of an alright fake-dad, despite his abrasive personality. he makes sure the younger members of the household have food, though doesn't really disclose how he gets the money or the food objects themselves other than the fact they owe him for this. you know, the rare times he's even at the house.

when the neighbors start accosting them at their front door and he has to wonder if they spotted him doing recon or the odd time he broke into one of their houses in the middle of the night to try and find answers. passive-aggressive aspic is kind of a weird way of showing it, but he wouldn't put it past these freaks.

the husband from next door doesn't even get through aunt myrna's name before archer slaps the gelatin out of his hands hard enough to shatter the glass container he'd brought it in against the ground.]

Fuck. Off. [and then the door is slammed in the poor guy's face. how rude!]

put on a happy face

[then it's been a month and halloween has rolled around and archer is still in this goddamn down in california and he hates halloween--

congratulations! archer was not at home when the broadcast hit the tvs and the creepy kids appeared, so you win the lucky draw of him either attempting to kick your front door down (which he fails, thanks to the nerve damage) or using his cane to smash your window and climb in.]

Hey, so, hey. There's, uh, zombie children out there? I just need a moment to-- you know. Regroup. Thanks. Don't touch me.

[he mutters something about likely being in a coma again, then pulls a pistol from his jacket and loads it. looks like someone's been shopping down town! he takes a position against the wall, peering out one of the front windows. he has a couple of lacerations across his arms and he's bleeding from somewhere above his hairline, but he doesn't seem to care about it.]

Guess I know how the Torrances felt...

wildcard

[CUT THE BRAKES BABY YOU KNOW HOW THIS WORKS!!!!!!!]

put on a happy face

[righthandstand]

I'm not letting you assholes in!

[There's one jack-o-lantern with a dying flame outside this door, but Okuyasu is taking no chances. What if the creepy kids are waiting for someone to open their door?

He braces himself against the other side of the front door.] You're gonna regret this if you don't leave!

angelo salucci — original

[omertae]

» 001. OCTOBER 1ST

A. BEDROOM
[ Angelo wakes up gasping, his heart thudding so fast it feels like he's either inching close to or just coming down from a heart attack. This place is completely unfamiliar and unpleasantly kitschy, and when he looks down he's wearing a frankly hideous pair of plaid pyjamas. His first point of call, perhaps strangely, is to unbutton the shirt and feel out his stomach, up to his chest. It's whole, which is nice, but under the palm of his hand he can feel a thin, fresh scar running vertically from his navel up to his sternum.

Great. It'll match the one on his face, much older and much less clean, curved over his cheekbone.

He's not alone. There's someone else in here, but when Angelo swings his legs out of bed and gets up with the intent to confront them about it, his eyes are drawn to a framed photo on the bedside table, a photo of himself and someone he doesn't recognise, very clearly dressed like they're at a wedding. Their own wedding.

Okay.

Angelo picks the photo up to scrutinise it, eyes narrowed, and then looks up at the other bed and its occupant, who he is now frankly outright disgusted to realise is the same person from the wedding photo. Dropping the frame on his bed, he props a hand on his hip and says, outright confrontationally, ] The fuck is this?

B. LIVING ROOM
[ He'd kill for a cigarette. The stupid fucking Halloween ad on this tiny television is not doing much to alleviate that craving, so he starts to root through the drawers in the unit against the wall, leafing through them with little care for the contents. He's missing so much more than cigarettes – chiefly, and most disturbingly, the ring he usually wears on his right ring finger – but these seem like the most attainable goal for now, considering the fact that they're advertising the fucking things on the television. Which is why it's so frustrating that he can't find shit.

Methodically, Angelo starts to take things out of the drawers and toss them anywhere he pleases, leaving a scattering of stuff all over the floor – miscellaneous trinkets, balls of paper, craft supplies, opened letters that look like bills, old birthday cards. It doesn't matter. Everything is going on the floor. Anyone else in the house he hasn't met yet will find him like this, crouched to access a lower drawer, surrounded on all sides by mess. ]

» 002. GETTING TO KNOW YOU~

A. PARTY CHEESE SALAD

[ Angelo drops the casserole tin onto the kitchen table and stares at it as if it personally called him names. Frankly, he feels sick just looking at it. No amount of desperate hunger could ever make him take a bite. ]

I'm not eating that. No fuckin' way.

B. BLOCK PARTY

[ He found cigarettes. Unfortunately for him, now he has something to smoke, he's forced to accept that there are more things to worry about than nicotine. After the disaster of that casserole thing, Angelo is staying away from any food he's not expressly prepared himself, which means he's hungry and irritable. But at least he's smoking, right.

He meanders through the party with his eyes narrowed, radiating the energy of someone who absolutely does not want to be here, and wants to be bothered even less. Apparently the grinning, cheery inhabitants of this hellhole are incapable of understanding that plainly telegraphed message, because they keep approaching him with chips and dip and fucking gelatin, all of which he's staunchly refused, until it's too much to keep saying no and he has to flip the paper plate out of a woman's hands, sending food scattering all over the ground.

He's caught attention, which is – frankly, exactly what he didn't want. ] What? [ he barks at the nearest person who's staring, with a dangerous flash in his eyes that begs them to confront him about his moment of slightly childish pique. As if it's obvious, he explains: ] I didn't want it.

» 003. HALLOWEEN
CW: violence against, uh, dead children; gore

[ Angelo blew out the pumpkin.

He doesn't even remember when he did it, but of course that doesn't really matter now, what matters is he did it and it's done. He's already on strangely high alert from the fizzing, static message that had come through half-garbled on the TV, but when he hears the doorbell ring he figures it's just another group of kids trying to mooch free candy. He's not answering; he hasn't, all night, he has better things to do like sit in the growing darkness and smoke. But this time the kids don't just scamper off; this time they start to knock once the trilling of the doorbell doesn't work, and then after that they're thumping furiously at the door. Angelo rolls his eyes and gets up, muttering under his breath about kids and their entitlement to fucking candy of all things, but when he wrenches the door open the sight and smell is immediately worse than a couple of tweens covered lazily in bedsheets with eyeholes cut out. Impossibly, he recognises this costume, this one child standing on the doorstep and gurgling trick or treat at him – waterlogged as it is, he saw the photo in the newspaper, they all did.

He immediately goes to swing the door shut again, but the kid snatches out at the last minute, trapping its tiny hand between the door and the frame and then pushing. Somehow, impossibly, it's far stronger than Angelo, which bodes ill, and he lets go of the door, stumbling back as this squishy, definitely dead kid inserts itself into the house. Without even thinking about it, Angelo grabs for the hatstand by the door and shakes off the coats and hats hanging from it, gripping it like a baseball bat and swinging for the kid with absolutely no hesitation. He knocks it right in the side of the head and sends it careening into the wall, but it picks itself up as if he'd just brushed it in passing.

Anyone walking by the Salucci house will see, in full view, Angelo trying to beat a costumed kid to death. Help? ]

» 004. WILDCARD

[ hmu for shenanigans or feel free to just strike angelo in conversation while he's smoking furiously on the lawn! i'm crowders at plurk if you wanna hash things out first! ]

002.b

[mijo]

[ Nacho is watching Angelo interact with the locals just thinking 'wow, these people cannot read body language' when the other man finally snaps and flips a plate. Everyone seems to acknowledge that this is terrible manners but they leave him alone about it, Nacho supposes not wanting to confront the guy.

He has no such qualms, but no such interest, either. Except that Angelo has caught him staring and is snapping an explanation at him. Okay, dude, calm down. Nacho keeps his typical, just-this-side-of-blank expression on, his voice relaxed and mildly friendly when he answers. ]

They're insistent. Come over here, it might be easier to avoid the offers if you're engaged with somebody.

Nora - Sole Survivor | Fallout 4

[geiger]

1. October 1st

[ For a brief moment, Nora almost convinced herself that it was the Wasteland that had been the dream. This place was so similar to how the world had looked before the bombs fell, and there was a part of her that just wanted to play along, regain some sense of normality. Except that there was nothing normal about this at all, not when she scratched past the surface. The more she looked at pictures of herself around the house - in the high school yearbook, at her wedding ceremony - the more she knows that something is really wrong. She's not sure if the world around her has changed or if something is messing with her head, but either way she couldn't stick around here playing house while Shaun was still missing. She'd half-convinced herself that the voice she'd heard crying for help when she woke up was him.

She gets dressed and heads outside, feeling vulnerable without a gun at her hip, and leans against the porch of her assigned home, arms folded over her chest, frowning as she watches people come and go, watching for anyone who looks as confused as she feels. ]

Hey. You just wake up here too?


2. Getting to know the neighbors

[ As much as she wants to just find a way back to the Commonwealth, it doesn't take her long to realise that it's not all that simple. She decides to watch and wait, get to know the people and the neighborhood, feel out anything strange.

At least, that's what she'd intended by going to the block party. It's not long before she's swept up into the festivities, grudgingly at first when they put the party hat on her, but more happily when she has a plate of jello salad thrust toward her. ]

Oh my God, I used to make this. I've missed this.


3. Halloween

[ Kids have always been her biggest weakness. Especially since losing Shaun, Nora's desperate to look after any children she comes across as best as she can. She opens the door with a big smile on her face and a bowl full of candy to offer the kids on her doorstep, but as soon as she gets a proper look at them she realises that something is horribly wrong.

She's not prepared for them to jump her, and she flails around wildly, quickly overpowered. ]

( halloween. )

[sunborne]

Get away from her, you little shi-

[ daylight runs up to the porch of his next-door neighbour upon seeing someone else getting swarmed by the weird as fuck kids. when he's within arms' reach of the group, he doesn't waste any time:

he reaches out and grabs one of them by the back of their waterlogged costume, tossing them behind him far as his bruised body will allow. the opening allows him to stumble into the swarm, hitting and kicking at any tiny form he sees. he already knows from experience they won't stay down for long so- ]

Get inside! Get inside!

anthony crowley — good omens

[demonicmiracle]

one; being human

[The worst part of all this — although there are a lot of worst parts — is having to figure out the management of a human form. Sleeping is something he learned millennia ago, but eating was always more Aziraphale's indulgence, expect Crowley doesn't trust the angel to actually know how to cook or remember that a body needs feeding three times a day, at least. Crowley's been taking care of Warlock for the past year and change, he can keep to a schedule. He can probably learn to cook. It has to at least be better than the gelatin monstrosities that the locals keep forcing on them.

That particular train of thought is what leads to him standing in the grocery store, staring at the food on the shelves with absolutely no clue where to start and annoyed at the whole procedure. Even though he made the choice to do this, part of him balks at the fact he got shoved into the role of a bloody wife and is expected to do it.

He understands the basics of food, but he's never set foot in one before, not counting the occasional foray into Fortnum & Mason in the earlier days of the century, and it's a long way from the markets he used to frequent.

He's got too much pride to actually ask for help, but the furrow in his brow is obvious above his dark sunglasses, and he keeps muttering curses under his breath, so he's clearly out of his element here.]

two; block party

[For all intents and purposes, a block party seems fairly benign, fairly harmless. He's not sure if that's the case, but it's a decent enough way to get a lay of the land and check out the  neighbors, so he pulls together an outfit, selects a pair of glasses — not needing them doesn't change 2000 years of habit — and ventures out onto the street.

None of the food strikes him as especially appealing, but someone's table has a bowl of punch that claims to be alcoholic, which makes the sugary taste of fruit juice worth dealing with. He snags a few crisps while he's at it, eating them for the sake of appearances before he quickly gets bored with the whole affair. He has no idea how humans do this regularly.

At least it's fairly obvious who does and doesn't belong. The locals have an air of ease that no one else shares, so it's someone who doesn't seem to belong that he slinks up next to, flashing a grin.]

If they break out ambrosia salad, we ought to riot.

[Just saying.]

three; always respect the dead

[Looking back, staying out late on Halloween in a creepy Stepford town probably isn't the smartest decision that he's made in his life, but he's still adjusting to the concept of being vulnerable and human, so he doesn't really think about it too much.

That quickly changes when he notices the dead children. At first, he's reminded so sharply of the Flood that he wants to be sick, before he remembers the news about the bus crash and counts the number of children he can see on the street. Even without his usual senses, he can tell they're bad news.

Rather than see what happens if he gets too close, Crowley back tracks and jogs up onto the nearest porch, rapping sharply on the door.]

Not to be a bother, but could I borrow a cup of sugar?

[He doesn't want a cup of sugar, he just figures if he shouts something about waterlogged, decomposing children, no one will come to the door.]

four; wildcard

[hit me with your best shot.]

block party

[dramaquinn]

[ It's Alice he slinks up to. The usual tension in her shoulders is turned up to eleven, which makes her posture perfect, and thus makes her look like she belongs— except for the way her half smile is clearly forced and she looks like she's not breathing altogether well.

What be says is so out of character for the place that she knows right away he's like her. He doesn't belong. Alice turns to him, keeping the smile on because appearances. ]

Better here than when they have you alone with a group of them. My neighbors had a cook-off for this in the house next door. All these perfect housewives, and— me.

[ Alice is not housewife material, thanks. ]

So, um— don't have the macaroni salad by the grill.

[ She made that one. Trust her. ]

diana prince | dceu

[monomachy]

i. so put your best face on, everybody [home sweet home]

[When Diana had woken up this morning, she'd been certain she was still dreaming. The last thing she recalls is a child's voice, asking for help, and she remembers wanting to go to them, to help, to save them. And an agonizingly long moment later, she'd been in--not her room. Not in this decade, anyway. Her flat in Paris is all straight lines and the epitome of modern. This room is... not. The wallpaper, the curtains, even the color scheme is all reminiscent of the places she'd lived years and years ago. So, as she wanders from the room in her nightgown, it makes sense to her that this place is borne of her own mind.

Then she sees the pictures, and her blood goes cold.

She doesn't recognize the man in the wedding photos. She doesn't recognize the children in the photos from dance recitals and sporting events. They could be people she's seen over the years, but it doesn't make sense that her mind would pick them out after all this time. She hurries down the stairs, a feeling of dread growing in her chest, and stops in the absolutely retro kitchen, because someone is standing there. Diana hesitates, eyes quickly scanning the room for, well, anything, before her gaze finally lands back on the person before her. Only one question comes to her mind, despite how ridiculous it sounds once it's out of her mouth.]

Is this... your house?

[There are plates full of gelatin-molded food on the table, and she frowns at them. Not one of mankind's best inventions.

Later in the day, she'll be found in the kitchen, staring at one of the old cookbooks that are inexplicably kept in one of the cupboards, along with kitchen gadgets she has never seen before, let alone know how to use. Diana puffs out her cheeks in frustration, hands on her hips, looking every bit the hassled wife and mother the neighbors expect her to be.

They also expect her to bake a pie, which is not going to happen. She turns to whoever happens to be in the kitchen with her, holding up the cookbook in one hand like it's some strange tome she can't decipher (read: that's exactly what it is).]

Do you have any idea how to make any of this?

ii. pretend you know this song, everybody [block party]

[Despite spending a century visiting places all over the world and meeting all sorts of people, Diana has never been to a block party in her life. It's entirely uncharted territory for her, which is novel, and though she's still trying to wrap her head around what's happened, she can't help but enjoy herself a little. She tries out the jump rope, holding up the skirt of her vintage dress a little to make it easier. She manages to avoid having plate after plate of gelatin shoved in her face, ducking away from the strange neighbors to find another person who seems just as confused as she is, standing near one of the apparently endless tables of food and drinks.

Pushing her expertly coifed hair from her face (listen, she lived through this decade, she's had plenty of practice), she reaches for some chips and the least offensive looking dip before speaking.]

Do you find this as surreal as I do?

iii. come hang, let's go out with a bang [the worst trick-or-treaters of all time]

[Diana stares through the window at the dead children outside her house, arms crossed and hands gripping her biceps hard enough to hurt. She'd seen the news--it's been all over the radio and television all week--and she knows who they are. Who they were. She's seen enough monsters in her life to be able to slot these things into that category. They come and go, but there's always at least one, watching the house, watching her. They don't enter.

She hears the snap of wood from somewhere down the block, and her head whips in that direction at the same time as the creatures' (not children, she tells herself, not anymore) do. Diana sucks in a breath, watching them dash off towards the sound, and knows she can't stay here. She doesn't have any of her weapons or armor, she can feel that her strength has been locked away somehow, but that doesn't mean she's helpless. Not by a long shot. She grabs the biggest frying pan in the kitchen and the sharpest knife. They'll do. Diana toes off her shoes, knowing she has to be fast, and dashes out the back door to follow them.

When she arrives at the house they're attacking, she doesn't hesitate before smashing the pan into the side of the head of one blocking her way into the house. The kitchen is dark, and she curses how long it takes her eyes to adjust. She hears the monsters' waterlogged feet tramping around in the next room, and calls out in a whisper:]

Is anyone here? Come on, you have to get out of here.

iv. bang! bang! bang! [wildcard]

[ooc; i'm down for anything!! diana's powers are nerfed, leaving her as a woman in peak physical condition, but she still has 5000+ years of weapons/battle training under her belt. she also lived through the 1960s, so she'll be pretty good at blending in, but will be insistent that her memories are completely real. i'm open to all kinds of "family" threads, regardless of what in-game groupings are. feel free to contact me via pm or on plurk at watchet if you'd like to do anything specific!]

1

[mijo]

[ Nacho has only figured one thing out for sure: he's not in Albuquerque anymore. Hell, he's not anywhere he's ever been, and after tiptoeing out of the olden-times style shared bedroom he woke up in earlier, he's pretty sure it's not any when he's ever been. There are pieces of mail on the coffee table with his name on it but the dates... this isn't possible. This shouldn't be possible. He's almost ready to write it off as some kind of vivid dream when, while standing at the kitchen counter boggling over how many gelatin molds this house contains, someone else appears.

...she doesn't do much to dispel the dream theory, honestly. Damn. But she seems very real, and uncertain. Unfortunately for her, he shakes his head. ]

No, ma'am. I just woke up here.

Papyrus (the other former skeleton) | Undertale | OTA

[spaghettimonster]

OCTOBER 1ST
[It's startling to wake up in an unfamiliar bed, for multiple reasons. There's the part where he woke up, despite not remembering going to sleep - last he recalls, hadn't he been looking around the Ruins for the source of that child-like and presumably human voice...? There's the part where he doesn't recognize the room he's in, either, or the face of the person in the other bed. And most of all... Well, he shrieks a little.]

Is this... skin?!?

[He doesn't recognize his own hands. And not just because there's no gloves on them - the arms extending from them are definitely not bone! At least the pajamas look like a thing he would own, but he's too busy trying to back up into his headboard, away from his own hand, to really appreciate that.]


THIS IS NOT MY BEAUTIFUL HOUSE - THIS IS AUNT MYRNA'S PARTY CHEESE SALAD
[It takes some panicking, talking with the other confused residents, and getting dressed before Papyrus begins exploring this new house and beyond. He finds his reflection in a mirror quickly enough, plays with the curly hair and discovers how it hurts when tugged at. Encounters photo after photo documenting a life he has no memory of, with this face over and over, yet his own name (partly) on the mailbox.

And every day the TV shows this commercial without any sign of familiar MTT Brand jingles or logos, and yet... There's skeletons in it, dancing as freely as you like. Why does the TV have skeletons, but he's here looking all... human? Before he can even contemplate the injustice of it for long there's a knock at the door, and another human lady with a smile and an apron and a mysterious moldsmal in hand.]

Oh, thank you, but I'm not looking to adopt.

[There is maybe a tiny misunderstanding happening here.]


DON'T WORRY, OFFICER - I HAVE A LICENSE.
[There's still a lot of strangeness about waking up in this secluded surface town, but there are some clear upsides with it. There's a car in the garage, and Papyrus Knochenmus has a driver's license. It's right in his wallet, with a picture of that very human face.

It sure didn't come with any particular grasp of how to drive, and his understanding of it is largely theoretical, what with coming from an underground kingdom where even travel by boat is erratic and his only exposure to cars was in movies and dreams.

But that's not about to stop the new, (improved???) human Papyrus with his slicked back hair and red convertible. Slowly, like a teenager learning to parallel park for the first time, he makes his way down the neighborhood street. Veering a little too close to more than a couple mailboxes, as it turns out driving like people in the movies, with constantly turning the wheel hither and yon, isn't a great idea.

Fortunately, he's going at a slow enough speed that he can dodge the suddenly appearing mailboxes, and onlookers can feel free to keep pace and offer encouragements, criticism, or other opinions on his driving.]


ALWAYS RESPECT THE HOLIDAY TRADITIONS - (network and/or in-person)

[If nothing else, Papyrus is a studious stickler for The Rules (except for the times he chooses to blatantly disregard them. This time is no exception, as holiday traditions and decor are important. He has no problem crafting quite a few jack-o-lanterns through the month and leaving them lit all night, trying to play along with the Joneses for the most decorated yard.

So it's his "family's" good fortune, when their house is an impenetrable fortress of little pumpkin-sheltered candles come Halloween. Yet that does only so much good, when the TV's volume only goes up to 5, but he can hear screaming somewhere in the neighborhood. Has somebody gone customizing their device for greater sound output? Or, could something be... wrong?]

"Uhhhh. Does anybody else hear screaming?? Is someone pulling a prank?"

[Everyone's wrist radios - wherever they've been left - crackle with questions as he heads out into the yard, peering around the neighborhood in search of whatever's going on. If it's just a customized TV he'll want to know who to ask to fix his up, and if it's a prank, well, who doesn't enjoy an audience to a good prank? And if it's not either of those... Maybe someone should be on hand to call for help.]


WILDCARD
[Got an idea for another top level, like mingling at the block party, helping with his inevitable car repairs, going for a hike and definitely not an escape attempt into the mountains, or other household shenanigans? Message me or pm me at swirlingflight and we can brainstorm a little!

Also, feel free to respond with prose or action as you prefer, I will match style.]

car time, also whoops gotta use a skeleton icon for the right emotion

[ribticklers]

[Sans is still wearing bunny slippers, pajama bottoms, and a Hawaiian shirt as he wanders around on foot, trying to act natural and feeling at the same time like he can't stop his face from moving and betraying the ever-increasing alarm at the body he is somehow in and the town he is somehow in and why is a car on the sidewalk.

Sans has only just turned the corner, turning his head to look where he's going a moment after that, so when he sees the car he just sees something red moving toward him and jerks back with such force that, not used to how he's carrying weight now, he falls over.]

Hey--!

Rachel Gardner | Angels of Death

[koroshite]

I; OCTOBER 1ST

[Closet doors flung open, windows slammed against their frames. Rachel causes quite a bit of commotion before she finally comes to her senses. Whether the shattered window and Zack's voice had all been a dream or not is better left to one side for now as she comes to the slow realization that she's sure not in her room anymore.

Shortly after her moments of frantic noise the blonde can be found still clad in the button-up shirt and pants of her light blue pajamas in the living room. The television might be blaring in the background with it's cheerful tune but something has apparently captured Rachel's attention so firmly that she doesn't even look up when anyone else enters the room.

If one gets a bit closer they'll notice she holds one of the many picture frames between her hands. She stands there staring at it, seemingly rooted in place. She'll acknowledges anyone's presence without ceremony, simply turning towards them with brow furrowed and gaze confused.]

It's a family picture.

[Yep, it's hard to deny that what the shot is. It looks to be at some outdoor barbecue, a family crowded around a picnic table. They're squished in close together, Rachel held against one of the parent's sides in a one-armed embrace.]

II; DON'T BE A SQUARE!

[One of the many overly bubbly and kind of psychotically friendly neighbors approaches, her hand on the shoulder of a young teenager with possibly the flattest expression and dullest gaze ever. There's a party hat strapped at an off-kilter angle to the girl's head and a covered Pyrex dish clutched between her hands. Someone's slapped a badge on her that reads 'Rachel' as well.]

Here you are, one of your new neighbors! Now get along, you two!

[The woman then turns Rachel loose, though not before patting her on the side of the head not bearing a hat. The woman's smile is dizzingly large and cheerful.]

And if you could be a dear, take that dish to one of the tables for me too, alright?

[The woman leaves as abruptly as she arrived and the girl she left behind gives whoever she's been introduced to (though it wasn't much of an introduction, was it) a flat look. Her tone is soft and as dull as the look in her eyes.]

She thought I was being shy.

III; ALWAYS RESPECT THE DEAD

[The house has descended into full panic. Maybe the whole neighborhood has really, Rachel isn't entirely sure. Either way the jack-o-lantern's lights have gone out in this particular home and those grimy children gurgling for treats have burst through.

And there's one similarly small shadow darting among them. It doesn't look decomposing but one can't be completely sure, can they?]

IV; WILDCARD

[Want to do one of the other prompts? Maybe a network thing? Feel free to hit me up here! PMs open for plotting too.]

october 1st

[hoshikiri]

[No tail be damned, Takame will find his balance. His steps were heavy and careful as he wandered downstairs to find some answers, and who does he see but this young girl. The pictures scattered about the house are faded, but he could put enough pieces together to determine that this girl was someone in them.

And looking at another picture of them besides. Curious, Takame approached her, kneeling slightly to see it more closely.]

... So it is. [A family picture where he sat with her at this gathering, holding her close. For a while he was just as motionless as she was. Her presence in person already gave him pause, but seeing himself next to her in these photos. In a happier state than he's ever known... no, that didn't bear thinking about. Something was bothering her after all. Or so he assumed.]

Do you recall taking this photo together, young lady?

ray gillette | archer

[handycapable]

🍸 october 1st

[ It's not the room isn't nice. Ray's own bedroom, of course, is nicer (he's spent years getting it exactly how he wants it), but the wrongness of it all is so obvious from the jump that he sits up in bed with a yelp. The person -- the woman -- in the bed next to him inspires another yelp, although Ray covers his mouth that time once he's aware he's not alone in the room. ]

What in the--?!

[ Then he's out of bed, wearing an absurdly plain set of flannel PJs, cautiously exploring the room, but the pictures in the bedroom don't put him at ease any. Weirdness is enough of a fixture of his daily life that he isn't panicking, but-- ]

Er... [ He'll look over at his "wife" awkwardly. ] Sorry, have we met?

[ Downstairs the first thing he'll be doing is checking the house for liquor or cigarettes, and that infernal commercial jingle will only make him crave his nicotine fix all the more. Is this a dream or a psychotic break? Time will tell. ]

Dukes, I thought they discontinued these. [ Well, better than nothing. He lights up, wandering over to the TV. ] My therapist is gonna have a damn field day when she hears about this.

NOTE | Hit him up in the bedroom or living room! Open to any number of potential "family" threads here even if obviously the grouping will likely be different when the game actually opens, but since who knows where the chips will fall on that one might as well have fun with it now!

🍸 don't be a square!

[ A block party in Goddamn Pleasantville is not Ray's ideal choice of how to spend his afternoon, but it beats chain smoking and/or binge-drinking when clearly seeking further answers about his situation keeps leading him to deadend after deadend so far.

So, fine. He'll socialize. Make conversation, ask questions, do his best to seem as inconspicuous as necessary and not to get hate-crimed. Food is shoved into his hands, a party hat on his head, and Ray allows it with a flinch and extremely pained polite smile. ]

Uh, thanks?

[ The fuck does he do with this disgusting gelatin? Actually, he's kind of curious how it tastes, though... but plenty of time for that later. Ray sets the plate of food down awkwardly on the first place he can -- Southern hospitality is all that keeps him from just tossing it into the hedge -- and finds one of the people on the block that looks about as confused as he's feeling. ]

The hell do they mean, guest of honor?

🍸 always check your candy

[ Advertising works, that much is true: Ray's been an on-and-off smoker for years, depending on his willpower at any given time to stick to quitting, but since he woke up in this town and had that damn cigarette jingle in his head, he's been going through about half a pack a day. Probably would be a full pack, too, if not for the expense.

Enough time has passed that Ray's about as calm about this whole mess as he can be -- and oh, sure, he has his moments, but it's easy enough to recover from those by dissociating neatly into this twisted suburban farce -- so late October usually finds him sitting at the breakfast table or on the porch with a newspaper and a smoke or a bourbon when he isn't busy with whatever else, and then before even he knows it, Halloween's upon them.

He has an enormous sweet tooth, but Ray isn't the sort of grown ass man to go out trick-or-treating; he'll just swipe some candy from his "children's" loot, and then holler when inevitably the blade cuts his mouth or he has to run out into the yard to vomit horribly. ]

Who... the hell... would do this...?!

[ He miserably clutches the candy bucket, refusing to surrender it as he lays there dramatically in the yard. Anyone that tries to take it from him will get a slap to their hand, regardless of his condition. ]

No! No! Back off!

💣 w i l d c a r d

[ Choose your own adventure! And/or PM / plurk me @ reggiemantle if you'd like to figure something out. ]

always check your candy

[handosaurus]

[He manages to swipe at the foot that had been poking more at his arm than the precious candy bucket, and Lana steps back with a sigh to the clearly-absent-of-a-God heavens.

Of all the people to pull into nightmare on bland street, they picked this team.]

Are you ODing? Sob twice for yes.

Okuyasu Nijimura | JJBA

[righthandstand]

Arrival

[His bed is a lot nicer than he remembers. There's paint on the walls and American comics on the floor.

Okuyasu throws himself off the bed and stumbles into a fighting stance. Wherever he is, it's not any house in Morioh he recognizes and is probably some kind of weird Stand thing. Yeah, maybe someone got mad at him and threw him into someone else's house. Josuke and the others are probably already fighting the bastard already.]

Yeah. I'll see if I can sneak out and - what the hell am I wearing?

[These are old man pajamas! What happened to his actual clothes? That's it. An angry 16-year-old delinquent runs down the stairs, storms into the living room, and kicks the wall to make his entrance.]

Alright, tell me! Who are you and what do you want!

Block Party

[Okuyasu is not someone who will ever turn down free food, even if everyone here is being weird. It's not so bad, having all of these games set up for him even if he is on the older end of childhood.

That's why he's going through the obstacle course at least five times. He has to prove to the other guys that he's way better than them at this sort of stuff, complete with a Jojo victory pose at the end of the course. Okuyasu's a really fit teenager, having fought for most of his life, and jumping over the tires is no hard task for him. Climb up a rope ladder? He went up a building before, this is nothing!]

So whaddya say? Impressed, huh?

[Eventually, he finds himself accepting a gelatin mold (better than nothing) a party hat, and another, smaller gelatin mold. How could he have ever hated this creepy American town?

Alright, so everyone here is weird, but that doesn't stop the tears from welling in his eyes.]

Candy | cw: vomiting

[Someone didn't explain Halloween to Okuyasu, but he still got free candy for showing up with the smaller kids. He knows he shouldn't like it here, but at least he's not being killed! Or maybe he secretly is, but the other people in his house are figuring out how to escape. It's not like they can be stuck here forever.

With his modest haul dumped onto the table, Okuyasu is ready for a nap after he tries out this "popcorn ball thing."]

So, is this marshmallow? 'Cause I think there's somethin' else in it. [Oh well. He pops the rest of the treat into his mouth and the awful aftertaste hits his mouth.] Oh, fuck!. [He clutches his throat as he feels his stomach start to retch.]

What was th-

[Before he finishes the sentence, he throws up all over the table, covering the rest of the candy.]

Arrival

[zenryokubatankyu]

[So Osomatsu's woken up confused. Confused and disoriented. It's enough that he woke up next to someone, then he got dressed, and he has just been living in a daze for a bit, sitting in the living room chair when he hears stomp stomp stomp and he's slowly pushed out of his thoughts only to see-- BAM. That sure is an angry high schooler kicking the wall, demanding to know what's going on.

He tossed up his hands in a seeming 'I surrender' gesture, mostly because he's pretty sure that this teenager is the type that could throttle him if he so pleased, and he really doesn't want that to happen. Really.]

A--Aah, I'm just as confused as you are-!! And against violence! I'm someone who just woke up here too, I don't know why, I don't know how, I just did! So I'd tell you if I knew but I don't!

[Please do not kill him, aggressive teen.]

rufus shinra ( final fantasy vii )

[corporative]

01: ARRIVAL.

[Waking up somewhere strange, somewhere unexpected, wasn’t exactly on the docket. From the wide-windowed expanse of an executive office to a cozy couple’s bedroom (with a dream wedged in-between), the transition itself is nothing short of jarring — the kind of jarring that feels like ice in his veins when he opens his eyes, the slow heralding of panic that Rufus can keep tamped down in the next moment, sitting up to orient himself in a situation impossible to parse. Fingers tighten into the bedsheets, pulling up wrinkles around his hands, his whole frame tightening as though a spring coiled, ready to face whatever threat is surely looming nearby.

But it’s— nothing, really. An empty bedroom, a pair of nightstands and a lamp for each. Quaint, kitschy, maybe a little eerie without context, but no great danger ready to leap at his throat, or send a knife prying into his back. An assortment of picture frames on one nightstand draws his eye, and Rufus stands as if pulled forward by the bright faces smiling wide through the glass; but he pauses when another awareness hits, the realization that he’s not alone, another form still asleep — or waking up! — on the bed opposite of his.]

Well, then.

[The frown etched across his face twists into a thin smile, almost-patronizing, but it’s the usual facade that greets a stranger, another variable he doesn’t know how to approach. Well, maybe that isn’t exactly true: Rufus knows exactly how to approach, and that’s with a—]

Rise and shine. [A forward step, and then a hard lean with his hands into the side of the bed, skewing the mattress with his force without flat-out doing something as childish as shaking the bemdframe.] You know what they say about the early bird.

[Wake! Up!]

02: AUNT MYRNA'S PARTY CHEESE SALAD.

[What a fine assortment of individuals to make up his fake new family. What a fine feast to greet them with, too, full of wobbly gelatin molds of various colors and unfortunate see-through shapes. Rufus stands at the head of the dining room table, arms crossed, taking in the sight — the food was so nigh overflowing that there isn’t enough room on the kitchen counters — left to wonder if this was supposed this trite, this laughable. Luridly picturesque. Are they supposed to play the part of a perfect family unit? Now that would certainly be something of an act, wouldn’t it?]

Think of it like a test of courage. [A sweep of his hand to indicate the feast spread out amongst them, so much food — and more than just the wiggly kind; meat and veggies, steaming warm and scintillating to any with an empty stomach. He smiles, though it doesn’t quite reach his eyes.] First one to take a bite of anything here wins bragging rights. Throw in an introduction regarding who you are and what you make of all of this? Even better.

[The truth of the matter is this: he isn’t taking the first bite. Hunger can gnaw at him for a week, but unless he makes certain they’re not keeling over first from poisoned food of questionable origin, then sorry. Someone else can take the plunge.]

You first. [Yes, he’s looking at you.] The green one looks especially... interesting.

03: ALWAYS RESPECT THE DEAD.

[Anyone with a pair of working eyes can see the difference, just peering out a window with the blinds drawn up: the houses with a stalwart jack-o-lantern lit on their porches, blazing bright, are immune from the undead children that go from door-to-door, likely bringing nothing good in their wake. And they’ve been fortunate that one’s been set out on their own porch, keeping this particular household free of any decomposing visitors.

However—because there’s always a ‘however’—Rufus can see, gazing out through the window, the state of their smiling pumpkin just beyond. Either the wick of the candle within’s been eaten down to wax, or a stiff breeze has blown in through the eye-holes, but either way, the light looks dim. Flickers on occasion, flirting with going out entirely. The children shuffling just across the street pause, twist their bodies in their house’s direction, as though waiting for the inevitable.]

Can’t have that, can we?

[Risk assessment is an easy thing when the worst-case scenario is having one’s face ripped off by an undead kid. Rufus turns to housemate nearby:]

Go grab a candle. [He’s already got a lighter in his pocket, stolen from a drawer elsewhere.] You’re coming with me outside.

WILDCARD.

(( hit me with whatever you like! anyone can be a family member for any of these prompts, too!))

( prompt: always respect the dead. )

[thricefold]

Right.

[ to zita's credit, she's quick to act: she hurries into the kitchen, rummaging through drawers and cabinates until she finds the pack of candles they had used for the pumpkin earlier.

she returns with a candle in one hand, alone with a fistful of newspaper in case they need extra kindle to encourage the fire. not only that but she's bringing a weapon with her, in case they need to defend theselves. while a frying pan isn't much, when one thinks about it, it's better than nothing. ]

Do you want to handle candle duties? I can watch your back while you do so.

Levi | Attack on Titan

[freeflight]

A) October 1st and thereabouts
[ Levi can’t figure out if the fake photographs or the fact that someone took the time to make sure there’s a wardrobe that’s to size are the creepiest parts of this absolute shitshow, but that’s where he’s at right now. He’s managed to get dressed in the least offensive clothes he could throw together, rather nicely so, and whoever has the absolute misfortune of living in his household is either going to get the experience of finding him tossing the place because it’s crazy and he has no idea of what’s going on, or—

Or, after he’s had a chance to come to terms with the fact that things are entirely out of control, they’ll run into him aggressively cleaning up. Reorganizing. Dusting. Scrubbing.

Give it a few hours and the house is going to be spotless. There’s a very real chance any housemate is going to get conscripted. ]

B) Don’t Be a Square
[ Fuck your entire block party? He is too old and tired for this, and a stranger actually had the balls to get into his personal space and force a party hat on his head. He is not, at present, wearing said hat.

So there’s this short, angry man sitting off somewhere relatively out of the way of foot traffic, a party hat crushed and set carefully off to one side, while he watches the neighborly proceedings with a dead-eyed stare. If he’s looking for something, he’s not finding it, but he does occasionally pick at some chips on a plate next to him. The chips were about the only saving grace here. If someone’s bored or unwise enough to stray too close, he’ll even have a comment to offer: ]

It’s like a nonstop bullshit parade. Almost impressive.

[ Yeah, that’s about where Levi’s at. It’s been a rough time for him lately and ending up here has only changed the flavor of absolute garbage he’s had to put up with. ]

C. Wildcard
[ Feel free to PM me or hit me up at Dynamicrange if you want something unique. ]

B

[zenryokubatankyu]

[So, both Osomatsu and Levi have been forced into this situation. Neither wants to be at this party, both are just...resigning themselves to be here. Both agree that the chips are the only saving grace.

Which says a lot, because these are some B-tier chips. A solid B. Not an A. A B.

Nonetheless, he's at least wandering around and trying to somehow get out of the main foot traffic when he manages to wander off to the side and hear that voice. For a moment, he pauses, because it sounds distinctly familiar, but it's probably just a passing resemblance to someone he knows, and when he looks at the guy who said it, yeah, he definitely doesn't know him.

Not that he doesn't agree.]

Right, right? I don't wanna be here, but these yahoos kinda just pushed it on me. Kinda literally! [He notes what Levi has done with his hat......and crumples his own red party hat in similar fashion after taking it off his head.

This is a sign of true anger.] I don't even know what this is for! Just to bug everyone else?

[Probably not, but it sure feels like it.]

Osomatsu Matsuno | Osomatsu-San | OTA

[zenryokubatankyu]

>> O C T O B E R 1 S T

[Starting from the top, what did he remember? Standing in the living room, that was one. Knowing that his brothers were going to go do responsible things - working, namely, but also socializing and not being layabouts, that was another - and he was going to tell them something important. Something he thought of while he was talking to Totoko-chan. Something...

The sound of a jet engine.

And then his eyes snapped open and he sat up in bed. He slowly relaxed after a minute, realizing oh, wait, that was a dream and almost opening up his mouth to wake one of his brothers up to talk about it when he realizes that it's not one of his brothers beside him. It's someone else entirely.

Immediately, Osomatsu shoots out of bed, no doubt possibly waking the other person up. His eyes are wide, and he's...confused. He's confused and kind of scared. He tries to speak, but his voice comes out as a little puff of air due to Fear and the fact that he has no idea what to say.

What do you say when you're this confused?

So this person wakes up to Osomatsu staring at them, eyes the size of dinnerplates, his face a little pale. And then he finally gets out three words.]

Uh...good morning...

>> PARTIES ARE FOR S Q U A R E S

[He was just trying to watch TV and drink a beer. Why was that so difficult. Why could he not enjoy programs he barely understood, with girls that are even barely hot because their skirts are so long, with music that seems like the dopey-ist foamy-ist crapola that even Karamatsu would call 'a bit much'.

No, there had to be noise. Unbearable noise. And his 'family' had practically volunteered him out to take care of the problem.]

OI, I WAS WORKING! IT'S ROUGH JUDGING THE QUALITY OF TEEVEE!

[The door is slammed shut. He huffs.]

So this is what I get for working overtime.

[OVERTIME....at any rate, he walks towards the noise, and then he has a party hat snapped onto his head, he's given one of those jelly things that decidedly looks like it does not belong in this dimension because it is cursed and probably messes up your digestion, and he's told he's the guest of honor. And to meet his neighbors.

So now he's frowning, and he's holding that cursed food, and he's got a red party hat on his head.]

It's not even my birthday.

[That isn't what he's upset about, but it might as well be.]

>> C A N D Y [cw: razors!!!]

[Halloween was always a weird time of year. He himself wanted to go trick or treating, but it wasn't as fun when trick or treating wasn't treated like a competitive sport to take someone out of house and home (somewhat literally in one unfortunate swindler's case, but he deserved it). Still. He'd taken the kids out - because dammit, if he had kids now, he was gonna be a good dad - and started taking them around.

And he of course decided to take some of their candy, because he so arrogantly remarked 'See, Dad's just teaching you a lesson about the economy. Never expect anything good to last, kids.' But that was just an excuse, because he wanted chocolate, and he was going to get it. He hummed to himself as he opened one of the candy bars, taking the slightest bite--

OH OW. He coughed, spitting out some blood. The front of his tongue was cut--that CHOCOLATE BAR HAD A RAZOR IN IT. Oh, God. Ow. He spat out some more, before seeing one of his 'kids' open one of their own candy bars...and immediately he got up, sprinting over, and smacked it out of their hand.]

WE'RE EATING HEALTHY THIS YEAR OW.

[He winced. Okay. Uh. How does he deal with this. How.]

october 1st... RIP oso

[socute]

[ Good morning.

Totoko didn't think much about what was going on or where she was. Her bed was comfortable and she was soaking up her beauty sleep as much as she could. But with all of the shuffling going on, it was hard to stay asleep!

She sat up, rubbing at her eye momentarily before just... staring as Osomatsu. And staring. And staring.

And... ]

Huh? [ What... the fuck. ] Eh? Huh?

...

[ ...is this a dream? The quickest way to find out would be to grasp onto Osomatsu's head, wouldn't it? ]

Hellboy | Dark Horse comics

[redrighthanded]

I. ARRIVAL - OCTOBER 1ST

[ Wherever this is, it's clear Hellboy has left the cold streets of Pandemonium far behind. Or maybe someone's decided to mess with him. He's pretty sure it's the latter, especially once he lifts his right hand up from the bed and -- wait.

Okay, that's.. that's pretty weird. Even for a guy whose day job involves dealing with the weirdest of the weird, it's kind of out there. If he hadn't spent the last however-the-fuck-long wandering through the dead houses of the depths of Hell, he might be more violently surprised. As it is, he spends a decent amount of time staring at his hands, then wandering up out of bed to find the nearest mirror and standing in front of it for a while, touching his face and chest. His balance feels strange -- no tail. The carpet under his bare feet is too soft without hooves to cushion him. The photos around him don't earn a glance; he's not used to seeing this guy looking out at him yet.

Eventually he wanders downstairs, through the house and straight out onto the porch, where he stands in just his boxer shorts, a big, tired, grey-haired obviously and undeniably human dude, and looks out at the neighbourhood. ]

What the hell..?

II. MEET THE NEIGHBOURS - BLOCK PARTY

[ The thing is, Hellboy's done this before. The whole 60's thing. He was basically a kid at the time, sure, but that doesn't mean the whole vibe isn't giving him a hit of nostalgia underneath all the confusion and suspicion. It doesn't really help, but it makes some of it less strange. Though, on the other hand, it also makes him miss his dad. But he'll take what he can get at this point.

Not really one for parties at the best of times, he's happy to hang out on the edge of the celebration with a paper plate of his second helping of Jello dessert and cake piled on it and a cigar stuck between his lips as he watches the kids racing around. He couldn't look more out of place if he tried but hey, he's used to that. ]

III. HALLOWEEN - RESPECT THE DEAD

[ By the time Halloween rolls around, Hellboy has gotten slightly more into the swing of things. He's still not used to navigating the world from a foot and a half lower down, but if he could get used to being stuck at the bottom of the ocean and on a ghost ship with a bunch of freeloading skeletons, he can get used to this. Maybe.

At least tonight things seem more his speed. The moment he sees those ghoulish kids rush one of his neighbours, he springs -- well, not quite springs, not with his bad back and knees -- but definitely hauls himself into action, cuffing one of the kids by the back of the neck and swinging his right hand into the side of their head.

Unfortunately, it's the wrong moment to have forgotten that that particular appendage isn't made out of stone any more. Sure, he's a strong guy and he still packs a punch, sending the kid-zombie sprawling to the sidewalk, but it doesn't do more than that. And it hurts.

The kid scrambles up, howling through an ironically devilish mask, and Hellboy looks down at his hand like it's betrayed him. ]

Ah, crap.

[ Yeah, he might need some help. ]

IIII. WILDCARD

[ OOC: Happy to be wildcarded for any of the prompts! Or hit me up at laetificat to plot something! ]

arrival

[dramaquinn]

[ Right, so, since this is clearly a thing that's happening for real right now, Alice decides that the best thing to do is throw on a nice, cozy bathrobe and go for a walk. Away from her supposedly very real family. A husband. Two kids. What the fuck.

Some of the overly cheerful neighbors greet her with a smile, remarking lightly on her strange habits and asking if bathrobe-clad walks are a new thing she's trying out. Alice just agrees and gives a tight laugh and keeps going. She doesn't have enough information to really interact with them yet.

And then there's this guy who steps out onto his porch and asks no one at all what the hell, and Alice couldn't agree more. The fact that he isn't giving her a too jolly laugh over her current state of dress means that whatever spell or trick this is, he's been yanked into it too. Which also means that, maybe, they can help each other out. ]

Um— coffee. Can I— Can you spare a cup of coffee?

[ Because she probably shouldn't jusr walk inside a stranger man's house. It's very clear the era this is supposed to be, and Alice is a young married woman here. Best not rock the boat yet. ]

I might be able to answer your question, but um— some coffee would be nice.

kon el | dc comics

[kon]

DON'T BE A SQUARE

[ he still isn't entirely convinced that he isn't dreaming, but that's also really just mostly wishful thinking on his part.

no, he's just trapped in another dimension again, except this time around, his powers aren't even working! what's up with that anyway? it takes him more than a day of panic (and possibly an equal number of hours moping) before he manages to straighten himself out.

—annnd now he's at some dumb neighborhood block party because he got too curious. isn't there a saying about how curiosity killed the cat? he might not be dead yet, but he sure feels like that cat right now, especially when another plate of colored gelatin gets shoved into his hand by a creepily peppy man. ]

Thanks....

[ his enthusiasm (or lack thereof) cannot be any more evident as he makes a face at the jiggly stuff. poking at it with a fork, he soon abandons it on a nearby table as he wanders through the lively get-together. every so often, he catches sight of a disapproving look or two, mostly from the parents. they don't seem like big fans of his greaser/punk style, but not even the 1960s can make him dress appropriately.

maybe he should just get out of here.

ripping off the name tag, he tosses it into the trash while he tries to map out an escape route. he'll just take this opportunity to explore the rest of the town since it seems like every single person in santa rosita has gathered here. but before he succeeds in his departure (or maybe soon following it), he bumps into someone with an immediate apology leaving his lips— ] Oh, sorry! Are you okay? [ if he somehow manages to knock 'em over, he'll extend a hand out to help 'em up. oops? ]

ALWAYS CHECK YOUR CANDY

[ he is way too old to be trick or treatin', but in the spirit of the holiday (and given what was reported in the papers not too long ago), kon has volunteered himself up for going around the block with some of the neighborhood kids — or, rather, he was dragged along and he couldn't say no to their adorable little faces.

he isn't wearing a costume though, so he does garner a few more disapproving looks on top of the seemingly common reaction to his choice of wear.

whatever. he's only here to accompany the kids.

unfortunately, it doesn't take long for the night to go awry. with not much to do, he decides to try one of the candies, except instead of biting into something sweet and enjoyable, he gets a sharp pain at the roof of his mouth. instantly jerking back, he pulls the treat out with a cry, his expression bewildered. ]

Ow, what the hell?!

[ cue the following subsequent events of kon

a. frantically ordering people around him to hand over their candy bags so he can inspect them. they might be dangerous to eat!

b. angrily retracing his steps through the neighborhood to try and find the asshole who would put needles and razors in candies meant for children!

please stop him from getting into fights because he is 100% going to get into a fight. ]

ALWAYS RESPECT THE DEAD

[ he can tell why horror films like to incorporate small children now, especially with the eerie group standing in front of his house. luckily, none of his new housemates blew out the pumpkin lights, so there hasn't been any undead kids trying a hand at some b&e. still, it isn't exactly ideal to have them out there.

at first, he thought they were harmless, even going outside to hand them some treats. it was a biiiig (and pretty damn shock-worthy) mistake. they lunged at him immediately and he barely managed to make it back into the household before slamming and locking the door shut.

he can't stay cooped up inside all night though. there might be people outside who needs help!

maybe you catch him before he leaves the safety of his new home or he catches you in the middle of some seriously freaky trouble. either way, superboy is here to save the day (or at least try to the best of his abilities)! he might not have his powers anymore, but he can still throw a very mean punch.

(although, he might be a little hesitant about punching children, undead or otherwise, so how about some good ol' fashioned running instead?) ]

WILDCARD

[ ooc; choose your own adventure! hit me with your best shot. shoot a pm if you want to plot. ]

( prompt: always check your candy, a. )

[thricefold]

[ zita steps out of her household to set a lit carved pumpkin down on the porch, wanting to get the 'feeling' of the season right. for all that's strange and disorienting, zita has to admit she's happy all hallow's eve is still a thing. it's a comfort to see children asking for treats, houses dressed up in decorations, the cool wind of the evening carrying laughter, chatter...

... and the growing sounds of a fight happening next door.

frowning, zita is quick to inform her 'children' she'll be right back and closes/locks the door behind her before heading to the fence. ]

Excuse me- Excuse me- [ her voice, though soft, is firm and insistent. it should be heard over the din of squabbling- children? ] Is something the matter?

[ one of the children in the group turns at the sound of her voice and perks up at the sight of her. the little girl points at the (much) older boy, stomping her feet while she hugs her candy bag close to her chest. ]

He's trying to take my candy! It's mine! Make him go away!

korra 🌟 atla/tlok.

[bearcat]

october 1st.

[ everything is wrong and nothing is familiar. korra wakes in a bed that isn't hers in a town that isn't republic city, and as the grogginess wears off she feels her pulse start to race. it's bad enough hearing the call of that poor child, but the strangeness of the world arounds her makes her stomach churn with nerves and anxiety. outwardly she tries to stay as calm as possible as she trots down the stairs, past the television (they'd only just gotten movers, now they're small and people can have them in their houses!?) and out onto the front lawn. there she pauses, taking in slow, deep breaths to steel her nerves and calm her heartrate. she had thought perhaps getting outside and getting some air would make it easier for her to process all of this, but seeing the uniformity of each house down the street continues to ply at that uneasy feeling at the pit of her gut. the last thing she remembers — a mountain top, platinum cuffs; she was in the middle of something very important, but this place... ]

You new here too?

[ she'll call out to whoever her neighbor is, across the street or over the fence, pressing her hands against her hips, still wearing her simple pajamas. geeze, you'd think if this place was actually hers, her family's, they'd have a dog for her to pet right now!!! ha ha!! hahaha.... spirits, she misses naga already. what's more unnerving to her is the slow realization that her energy feels stagnant, like she's just had another run-in with amon's chi-blockers. ]

block party.

[ in the time since her arrival, korra has spent very little time indoors, choosing instead to familiarize herself with the town as much as possible. korra had heard stories from ba sing se about the joo dees from aang's time, and their relentless cheer is enough to remind and unsettle her. after a while, she'd stopped trying to get answers from them and instead turns her attention to the ones who looked as lost as she did. that feeling of unease never quite left her, but she can swallow it down long enough to head out to the gathering and mingle with all the newcomers.

and honestly... she is pretty hungry. the gelatin molds and casseroles disagreed with her, so you better believe korra is going to just gather up some stuff that doesn't seem to be as offensive; fruits if she can manage it, some chips and any kind of meat dish available. she'll casually be snacking on it as she wanders down the street, the party hat askew on her head. it's not that korra's against parties, it's just that she hasn't been to many in her life, so there's a slight look of bewilderment on her face as she takes in the sights and sounds of this strange town.

however, she does keep an eye out for wallflowers, approaching them with a friendly grin. ]

Parties not your style?

respect the dead. (CW; zombie children)

[ halloween is a weird holiday, okay? parts of it remind her of the glacier spirits festival, but the whole dressing up in costume and going door to door to ask for candy isn't anything she's experienced before. not wanting to be too rude, korra had agreed to go along with it, but it's not until 10 that things really start getting interesting.

this is more her style; a fight to protect those who can't. the sight of decomposing children is frightening but korra won't let that get in the way of her helping people. ]

Hey, hey! Back off! [ she might not have her bending, but korra's an ace with her fists, jumping into the fray in order to get people to safety and incapacitate the attackers. but they're fast, faster than korra is without her bending and she has to keep her mind on what's in front of her to keep from being overwhelmed. they move like the dark spirits she's faced before, and korra tries to keep pace but— ] Tui's gills! [ she finally curses and pulls off her costume... in the middle of the street... to more easily move about.

thankfully, korra is wearing something period-appropriate underneath it all, in her familiar blues and light browns, but trying to fight these kids in strappy sandals is not her idea of a good time. ]

wildcard.
( go wild!! i'm 100% here for weird new family shenans; korra's 18, so she'll be the coolest daughter/big sister ever. hmu via pm if you want me to write a custom starter for you! )

block party.

[helled]

[ Sam's smile is tight-lipped, but still genuine enough for someone who currently feels uncomfortable in his own skin.

He's a (very) tall man, and in this crowd he feels like no matter how many thick-knit sweaters and perfectly pressed trousers he adorns, he's never gonna really blend in. It might also be the generally quiet, suspicious look he gives everything in this neighbourhood. And he just doesn't seem to move like someone taught to be a gentleman of the 1960s, so there's that too.

He holds out his plate of chips, dip and carrot sticks someone had pushed onto him a few minutes back if she wants to share in his misery. ]

Not exactly, no. And I think I've had enough gelatin molds to last me a lifetime and then some.

elphelt valentine - guilty gear

[marryonette]

[ october 1st ]

[ It felt like a bizarre dream, well more bizarre than any she'd had before. Which was saying something, considering how wild her imagination could be. She'd done a pinch test, but she still wasn't entirely sure this was not, still, a dream. Nothing in the room felt like hers, darling as it all was. The pretty dolls lined neatly on the shelf, the magazines full of fashion tips, makeup techniques, cute boys and other such wonderful things, it all seemed fanciful but hardly something she "owned". She thumbed through the record collection, even recognizing some of the old world artists, but still nothing she actually had...

The pictures made it seem even more bizarre. Was this really her? As she wandered down the stairs, she stopped at each one, seeing visions of herself in a childhood she never got to have, with what appeared to be a loving mother and father. A little girl with blonde, bobbed hair, growing into a young woman, joy and exuberance in her expression.

By the time she's on the couch downstairs, she barely notices the jingle on the television.

She's crying into her hands. ]

[ neighbors - b ]

[ She was a little aged out of the jump rope games, so El found herself largely surrounded by other girls closer to her own age, gushing about boys and whispers of less than scrupulous (but still fairly tame) rebellious activities they might get up to while the kids and parents were distracted with trick-or-treating. El tried her best to follow along with the talk, definitely not wanting to feel anymore lost and alienated than she already was by this strange world, but she couldn't help but feel like she had no place in those kind of activities.

She tried to find other Fellow Teens who looked as out of place as she did, to gravitate towards them and try to find some commonality with her fellow "dreamers" ]

Some... party, huh?

[ The uncertainty in her voice was probably the tell that this blonde gal was not among the "native" folk, despite looking the part. Well, that and what came next. ]

Still, I don't think I'll be finding a future husband here...

[ What... a weird thing to say. ]

[ halloween - a ]

[ Well, she'd been there long enough to realize it wasn't really a dream at all. She didn't have enough understanding of how it could have happened, but she had definitely been transported into some point in history, before the Dawn of Revival, and had taken a form appropriate to the time. No access to her stuff, her powers, or really anything besides her memory and knowledge of human history. Which was... not actually that great.

But hey, she could at least try to ease her anxieties and enjoy some Halloween candy while she tried to find out what was going on! She was happily chewing on a premium bit of chocolate, digging in her bag to hand another to a friend passing by. ]

You gotta try this! It's super tasty!

[ She hadn't come across anything tampered with just yet, or heard of it. How unfortunate. Despite the clover hairpin she wore, her luck probably wouldn't last... ]

[ halloween - b ]

[ As it turns out, the BB gun that Elphelt had bought wasn't that effective on zombie children! Not that she *wanted* to kill them, though she did have that thought of how did it even count as killing if they were already dead. Frantically she dashes around the property, popping them when she can to keep them from crowding her, but it was getting tough. It was then she started to notice something as she looped back around to the front of the house... ]

The jack-o-lanterns! They're pushed back by those!

[ She shouts it to someone near by also struggling with the kid horde. Damnit, she didn't have a lighter or matches of any kind on her to relight the one on their porch. And there was definitely no chance the BB gun was going to do that. ]

I need some fire!

[ wildcard! ]

[ got a prompt idea that i didn't cover here? just hit me up! i'm down to clown with anything ]

october 1st

[uncommonsense]

[ Haruhi had come from looking around in the other room, continuing her initial investigation in finding out where she was and whether anything was super out of place.

Her MO at the moment was to ask questions and learn this house's secrets... but she's immediately hesitant to go near this crying girl?

Hm. ]

Uh... hey. Everything alright?

[ Clearly not, but it was a start. ]