TDM - JANUARY 2021

[robbies]

TEST DRIVE MEME - JANUARY 2021

Good to the last gasp.
CW: gaslighting, potential mentions and depictions of trauma and other problematic material, body horror, dolls, violence

---

“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 outside of it carrying faintly, it all becomes very clear—

Something is horribly wrong.

---

JANUARY 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, the morning news is playing. The newscaster, a man in a gray suit and horn-rimmed glasses, keeps shuffling his paperwork on his desk as black and white footage of people in the midst of celebration — throwing streamers, wearing paper hats, toasting flutes of bubbly liquid — is interspersed between his droning report: ”New Year's Eve was in full swing last night as citizens from all over Santa Rosita came together to ring in 1961. A surge in ginger ale and sparkling cider beverage sales was reported by Honeybees as early as eight o'clock in the evening, a boon for the store…“

---

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. CLOWN AROUND. If December was a time for sweet treats and good food, January is the month where everyone is trying to unload their leftovers. Who better to enjoy them than you, the newest family on the block? Your neighbors have quite a bit of food to share: Throughout the month, they'll stop by to say hello, bringing a new sugary dish with them each time. As always, jello molds are a staple. One plate turns into three turns into five, and by the end of the first week of January, you're likely to end up with a collection of jiggling pink, green, and orange lumps taking up space in your fridge. From mountains of Whip 'n Chill to Broken Window Glass cake, you'd be forgiven in thinking that there's no end to it. And yet, there's the occasional exception. Someone comes by with a Bundt cake lathered in vanilla icing and topped with rainbow sprinkles. Were it not for the giant candy clown head topping it, it would almost look good enough to eat. "There's a rumor going around that you've been a bit under the weather, so I thought this would cheer you up!" they say, right before thrusting the technicolor nightmare into your hands, the clown's dead pink frosted eyes staring up at you. Your neighbor is quick to tell you to eat it while the icing is still fresh (you never know who might lick it off when you're not looking, eh kids?), but not that the clown itself is made out of styrofoam. That's something you'll just have to find out for yourself when you take it back inside and start chowing down!

B. SNOW DAY

What awakens you one cold Friday morning isn't the blare of your alarm clock or your family getting ready to start their day or even the chilly air that tickles your toes as they poke out from the bottom of your covers, but the sound of hooting and hollering outside your window. The sight that awaits you when you go to investigate is something out of a Norman Rockwell painting: The entire neighborhood is outside, playing and carrying on in the snow. While everyone was sleeping, Santa Rosita got four inches of snow, more than enough for the schools to close but not enough to stop everyone from enjoying it.

And enjoy it they are! Children build snowmen in their front yards while their fathers work on shoveling their driveways. Most, however, are busy erecting snow forts in their yards and the middle of the street, running back and forth as they collect ammunition for an ongoing snowball fight that takes up half of the neighborhood. Nobody is spared from their assault, not even the adults, and especially not the newly arrived ones who leave the house. Good luck getting the mail, mom and dad!

"Come on! There's plenty of snow!" one young boy yells at you over a snowdrift. "You can join my team!"

"Nuh-uh!" another boy shoots back. "You can join my team!"

And on and on it goes. Well, for the pacifists among you, making snow angels is always an option!

---

THROUGHOUT JANUARY.

CW: gaslighting, potential mentions and depictions of trauma, and other problematic material

There’s no business like show business! And business is hopping at the Starlight Drive-In, which has been boasting about its all-new film premiering on January 2nd and playing all month long. The critics are raving, the townspeople are flocking, and plans to go to the drive-in seems to be all anyone can talk about. “Make sure you get there early to see the serials,” many of them suggest, eyes wide with excitement. “I couldn’t look away!” Whether you come with your family, your friends, or simply come on your own, the lot is packed, Robbies and normal townsfolk alike beaming as they hook the individual speakers onto their cars. Apropos of the cold weather, the concession stand has added seasonal items to their menu, serving up hot chocolate and kettle corn in addition to its usual soda and popcorn. Watching a movie against a backdrop of gently falling snow while you're sipping on steaming chocolate and melted marshmallows has a certain je nais se quoi to it that even you have to admit is appealing. At last, when it's finally dark enough to start, the projector clicks on from the booth in the back of the lot and the movie begins. A. COMING ATTRACTIONS. The movie, Curse of the Doll People, is a horror flick. A real chill-o-rama, starring actors you've never heard of playing a group of archeologists who unknowingly trigger a deadly curse that sets a group of murderous living dolls upon them. The poster pasted on the ticket booth promises it'll be the most fun you'll have screaming. Unfortunately, you have to sit through several minutes of previews first. The coming attractions aren't anything special — a bunch of westerns, a romance, even a beach musical. Far from being bored to tears like you might be, the people in the cars around you are glued to the screen, popping snacks into their mouths and whispering their commentary among themselves. The movie is the reason why everyone's here, sure, but you don't just get one flick out of going to the pictures! There's also the serials, little 5—10 minute long chapter plays that tell a story in pieces. Nothing can beat those, and when the first one starts, everyone sits in rapt attention as if it were the feature presentation itself. But as the scene opens up on a sight that is instantly familiar to you, and your own face stares back at you from the projection screen, it becomes clear that this is no ordinary film. You watch your memories play out in grainy black and white footage, aired for all the world to see. Or perhaps not — though you may not realize it, the movie playing out on the screen differs from person to person. No one sees the same thing. The person next to you might see one of their worst fears come to life, whether imagined or real, practical or fantastic. You might see one of the worst moments of your life — the death of a friend, your hated enemy bringing you to the brink of death, your absolute lowest point — exactly the way you remember it... save for the way your double on the screen occasionally turns to face the audience, staring directly at you with a knowing smirk and a wink. Or the way your loved ones will sometimes go off-script, gazing at you with pleading eyes as they beg you to help them. The people of Santa Rosita will see an exciting battle between two pirate ships, swashbuckling and cannon fire in place of the traumas you're witnessing. When the serial ends on a cliffhanger, much to the disappointment of everyone around you, it's almost a mercy. "Tune in next week for the thrilling second part!" Well, you will, won't you?

---

END OF THE MONTH.

CW: body horror, dolls, violence

Aside from the horror of the drive-in, January might seem to be passing calmly... until one night, something changes. In the middle of the night, once you fall asleep in your comfortable bed (or on your couch, or with your head lolling against the kitchen table), a nightmare comes to you. The shift from whatever dreams you were having to the cold, dark void you find yourself standing in happens gradually and quietly. So too does the image that plays out in your mind's eye: From out of the darkness, a featureless mannequin stands ramrod straight, facing you with its arms pressed rigidly to its sides. It has no face, no identifying marks, no features at all. It's a blank slate in every sense of the word... until it isn't. Slowly, the material of the lower half of its face begins to split as a searing pain tears through your own, as if invisible fingers are ripping your lips off inch by inch. The slit on the doll's face widens and deepens until, finally, mercifully, its new mouth opens as yours disappears, replaced by a flat, smooth barrier of skin. Like it was never there to begin with. The pain returns, this time in your arms and neck — right as the doll's own begin to jerk. Your joints are hardening, seizing up as the doll's arms go from minutely twitching to slowly flexing. While every nerve and bone from your fingertips all the way up to your shoulders grows heavy, the doll tilts its head and looks down at its hands, as if seeing them for the first time. By the time it takes its first step, you've taken your last: the pain has spread to your feet, ankles and toes hardening and locking into place. Every part of you is claimed this way; what isn't taken by force simply fades from your body and shifts into being onto the doll's, your skin replacing its cloth body, your clothing dressing it, your hair filling out its head. Your tongue goes numb as the licks its newfound lips, coarse cloth and batting surging up from your lungs and all the way to the back of your throat. By the time it's over, you can't move. You can no longer breathe. All you can do is stare at the perfect, eyeless double of yourself standing before you. As your eyes begin to burn, the last thing you see before everything goes black is the sly curve of a smile — your smile — before the face wearing it turns away and walks back into the darkness. Luckily, you wake up to a room full of sunshine and the distant sound of traffic as the neighborhood gets ready for another beautiful day. The morning air feels cold and dry on your skin. You're you. As much as you've always been. Right?

A. DOPPELGANGER.

It's the kind of morning that makes you want to sing. Where the sky was once dull and grey, it's now a deep blue. Barring the usual hustle and bustle on the streets of Shadyside, the first sound that greets you when you wake up is the steady beat of water trickling outside your window as the snow begins to gently melt under the rays of the sun. You may even hear the chirp of a bird! January, in all its dreariness, is nearly at an end.

When you leave the room to go downstairs — or upstairs, if you slept in the living room — the house is quiet and flooded with sunlight. With how perfectly silent everything is, it's easy to mistake the calm for solitude and think you're alone.

This is not the case.

Waiting to greet you is a familiar figure. If you go downstairs, you'll see it sitting in your kitchen with its head bowed and its arms hanging limply at its sides; if upstairs, lying in your bed on its back. There's no mistaking who it is. Even at a distance, their hair, face, clothes and features all instantly recognizable, and you know who it is before you even fully register their presence:

You.

Motionless, your doppelganger looks more puppet than person. Its chest is still, not a single breath leaving its mouth. Its eyes are closed. They snap open when you get closer to it, wide enough to see the whites, as its head jerks up to look straight at you. In a staccato imitation of your voice, it chirps at you:

"Hi!"

"Good morning!"

"Hello!"

"Rise and shine!"

Your clone is a good imitation, but not a perfect one. Its movements are stiff and uncoordinated, like a marionette being commanded by unseen strings. Though its cheeks are rosy, its skin is pale and almost glossy with the texture of newly polished porcelain. None of these setbacks bother it in the very least. If left alone, it goes about the house mimicking your morning routine, though given how awkward just walking is for it, it's almost certain to do a very bad job. Still, it tries its hardest, following you all day around the neighborhood, trying to imitate your movements — all with a smile!

That is, until you become aggressive with it.

It doesn't take much to set your doppelganger off — a simple shove will do it. When that happens, its eyes will do the impossible and open even wider, its mouth yawning into a wail that pitches louder and louder. That's the point when it will lunge at you. Its hands will try to go for your throat, but not always. It's resourceful enough to improvise with whatever it has around it, whether that be a kitchen knife, a paperweight, or even a letter opener. Luckily for you, they're fragile. Just hitting them is enough to crack and chip away at their skin. With enough strength, their limbs can even come off. Unluckily, they don't stay down for long; even a severed appendage can be popped back into its proper ball-jointed place.

All the while, they never stop childishly whining and shrieking at you.

"Not nice!"

"Why are you so mean?!"

"Not nice, not nice, NOT NICE!"

The only way to shut them up for good is to keep pummeling them until they're nothing but a pile of doll parts. But be thorough — even a mouth that's nothing but a shard of porcelain can still talk.

---

OOC INFO

Hello, and welcome to We're Still Here's second 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 February 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. Additionally, starting today comments made to the TDM will now count towards Activity Check. Current players are permitted to use up to five comments from it for this month's Activity Check — half of the required amount to pass. The other five must be made within the game's communities.

If you would like to have January or other winter-themed 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.

A note about the drive-in theater: Players are in full control over what memories, phobias, or fears the serials before the movie will depict. You can also specify whether or not other characters will be able to see your character's serial. Be sure to label your threads with relevant content warnings if needed!

---

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Comments

QUESTIONS

[robbies]

[ribticklers]

1) How will characters already in the game experience the time situation/distortions of who's in their house? I assume it won't seem like a dream to them, at least?

2) Since this is canon, are characters in the game allowed to take prompts from this to use with others currently in the game? I wouldn't want to take up space here from people who want to app in new characters with a top level.

PROSPECTIVE ROLODEX

[robbies]

If you are not presently in the game, please feel free to post a link to your top level here for easy visibility! Current players, please do not link your top levels here but do welcome your potential new neighbors to town!

[robbies]

1. Characters currently in-game will experience the events of the TDM normally. You are correct, there will be no dream-like state for them, but there might be some confusion on their part if January's new daughter becomes February's next-door neighbor! Currently-established families will not experience any sort of "swapping" at this time.

2. Feel free to top level here! You can, in the header, identify yourself as a 'Current Player' if you wish, in order for both current and prospective players will be aware. If you would prefer to create your own log or network posts on their respective comms, however, you may do so.

Ken Amada | Persona 4 Arena Ultimax

[whatsamada]

A - Snow Day

[There were a couple of things Ken noticed when he woke up in a strange environment. One, he was convinced this was a fever dream he was having. There was no way he was stuck in 1961 and having to live with his family. Two, he wondered if he had eaten something terrible that made him have this odd dream. He was sure he had a normal dinner before making his way to bed. Whatever the case, he couldn’t deny that he was out about trying to help his mom and dad attempting to shovel the snow out.

Even if he was supposed to be a normal thirteen year, he still had to help his father out in some way! Although, the problem was how he just wasn’t use to shoveling this much snow! Does anyone dare to come and help him out?]

B - Coming attractions [Warning: Mentions of death]

[Ken had figured now that he had all the time in the world, he might as well go and see this hot new movie everyone had been talking about. At first, the movie didn’t seem anything different. It appeared to be your general B rated movie Junpei or Yukari making fun of whenever they had the time to spend with him. With a small frown, it was clear he was getting pretty bored as he kept watching preview after preview.

However, it became clear that something seemed rather off shortly after. As his eyes slowly widened, he wondered why he was seeing a younger version of himself. And yet, he couldn’t keep his eyes away from the screen.]

Wait, that’s…!

[ But as the screen kept on playing, his eyes grew bigger at what played before him. He could hear the sounds of a horse as the sound of a woman could be heard. As the younger Ken screamed out, he was pushed aside by the women before something large fell on top of her.]

Mom! [He didn’t mean to shout but he had to look around to see if anyone was looking at this. Did they see the same thing he did…?]

C - Doppelganger

[Ken was very familiar with the concept of a copy image. He had to fight his shadow and he would not hesitate to do so again. However, it was different when he didn’t have his Persona with him. As he stared back at the poor copy, he had to keep calm. He knows the moment he makes it angry, it will want to start a fight. Instead, he was trying his best to keep it happy as he tried talking to it]

Nice day we’re having, right?

[He said to his copy before responding in the same manner. There was something unnerving about having this strange doll like copy of himself mimic every movement in such a way. But as he was trying to do a bunch of movements for said doll to keep up, he just had to wonder what its intentions were.]

Wildcard

[Surprise me!]

tsukasa domyouji | hana yori dango

[humingyay]

[wake up]
[ It takes Domyouji Tsukasa a good ten minutes to even start waking up, at first covering his eyes from the sunlight that filters through his room before consciousness starts to take hold. He's not one for loitering around in bed yet for once Domyouji can't help but stare at the ceiling, brows furrowing into a frown as he takes note that his ceiling looks gross. Wait no, his room is too small. Wait —

What the fuck?! Not for the first (or last) time in Domyouji's life he can't help but pause in confusion. This isn't his room! This is someone else's room and instantly he throws the covers off and jumps out of the bed, spinning around on the spot as he tries to take everything in as quickly as he can. He'd been...what had he been doing? Right! He'd been on his way to prom, ready to ask the only girl for him an important question! Now he's in some poor person's room, some disgusting commoner's place and Domyouji grabs the nearest figurine and clicks his tongue at it. Trash. The item is promptly tossed aside before the teenager begins rifling through the nearest wardrobe. His clothes are gone. No more Gucci or Ted Baker, no Louis Vuitton or even Chanel. No, just more poor people clothing. Whatever, it will have to do for now, it's an emergency.

God, did his mother somehow have something to do with this? Domyouji wouldn't put it past her, that old hag. Soon enough the teenager leaves his room, expression thunderous as he makes his way from room to room. He's not even quiet with his words; if someone wants to fuck with him and kidnap him then he's not going to be happy about it! That and how is he meant to stay calm when he's meant to be proposing at the prom??]

HEY! SHOW YOURSELF ASSHOLE! HOW DARE YOU TRY TO KIDNAP ME YOU PIECE OF SHIT!

[ Domyouji pauses when he catches sight of a photograph. He's in it along with some others. He doesn't recognise them but everyone seems happy enough, as if they all know each other well and it's enough to have him pausing in his indignant rage to let out his confusion.]

Haa? What is this shit?

[meet the neighbours]
[ Domyouji has been wandering around in a foul mood, glaring anyone who dares to even try talking to him. He's trying to find the person in charge but all he's getting is vague answers to his specific questions. No-one knows anything about a kidnapping, they all believe he's been there the whole time and Domyouji can feel his blood pressure rising. He's been better about using his fists and getting into fights since meeting and spending time with Makino; he was a better person for being around her, yet she's not here right now and these people are sorely testing him. Besides, they all think it's 1961 and they're in America. How stupid are they? How wrong they all are. It's 2007, duh.

He eventually takes a seat, crossing his ankles as he watches the pile of plates that start showing up, an array of colourful desserts and sweet things. Poor people food. Commoner crap. No way is he eating that and Domyouji is already turning his nose up. It doesn't look healthy and who the fuck knows what is in it? It's only when the clown cake comes out that Domyouji makes a scoffing noise, unable to help himself as he clenches his fists, tone more surly than anything.]

Stop fucking around! How am I meant to cheer up in this place? I am not eating that!

[doppelganger]
[ Maybe it's a small mercy that this place decided to provide something that Domyouji could truly justify beating up. Certainly it's a horrific thing, something straight out of a nightmare to see right in front of him. Yet those feelings are overridden by the indignant realisation that something is trying to copy him and poorly at that too.

Anyone passing in the street will have to duck as porcelain limbs are suddenly thrown out into the street from Domyouji's open doorway. He's having none of it and he stamps down a foot to crack another one of the thing's arms before getting ready to throw that in the street too.]

How dare you copy the great and almighty me! You can't even do that shit right!

[network]
Stop messing with me.

Hostage situations are stupid and my old hag of a mother wouldn't pay shit anyway.

Don't make me come and find you.

If Makino is here I'll kill you!

[wildcard]
[ ooc: anything goes, feel free to PM, I'm sorry he's a very angry teenager.]

Claude von Riegan | Fire Emblem: Three Houses

[bowfaire]

1. Clown Around

(It's early in the morning when one (1) Claude von Riegan knocks on your door and holds up a tray jello cake wrapped in cellophane or something and offers you a charming smile,)

Hey, neighbor.

(His words are punchy and sarcastic, like someone who is definitely trying to imitate other Robbies going door to door. He definitely isn't one, though. He's not quite selling the act completely and he isn't really trying. (... Did he just wink at you?))

Happy New Year. (Now that the pleasantries are out of the way, he's going to try and thrust that tray over in your direction,) Here you go.

(It wiggles and jiggles and all the other -iggles and once he's successfully(?) off loaded it, he's going to turn on his heel and… head back home? Hit the town? Hm. Anyway, did you really need another weirdo jelly dish or clown cake? Neither did Claude. Maybe he'll go back to the house and try to get rid of those other platters before anyone else catches on to his clearly genius regifting plan.)

No need to thank me or anything. I was just thinking about you.

(He doesn't even know you.)

2. Coming Attractions

(At first, he doesn't seem to react at all. He stays leaned back in his seat, seemingly relaxed. His reactions are carefully controlled, as if he's mindful not to let anyone watching him see too much. He starts to sit up as the scene progresses but it seems to match with the rest of the audience watching their totally ordinary pirate serial.

As it ends, he excuses himself from the car. Or well, he tries to. How does he get out of this steel carriage again? After a second or so fighting the handle, he grabs a soft drink from inside the car and holds it up to show that he's clearly going to go get a refill or something.

This is basically a prompt saying you can catch Claude over at the concessions drinking a very fizzy cola and avoiding the movie that's now started. He'll hang out over here for a while! Long enough to finish his drink and just make loud noises with his straw and empty drink.)

… How long is this again?

(It's his first movie. He has no idea how long these things usually are.)

4. Wildcard

(Hit me! You can reach me via PM or eski . As a heads up, I'm traveling for work this weekend so I'll be a little slow.)

1

[ribticklers]

[Okay, so in spite of having been here for a while, Sans still thinks the food here is hilarious, and he doesn't actually object to having another weird wiggly thing around. But that doesn't mean Sans isn't going to follow this guy and shove the food back at him anyway, because you should never make this kind of regifting easy. His grin is wide but natural--not a Robbie, just a general annoyance.]

Hey, buddy, I can't in good conscience take this food right outa such a great guy's mouth. [Sans doesn't even know him.]

bo-katan kryzie | star wars

[niteowls]

I - Clown Around

[ whatever this... thing thing? that these 'neighbors' have brought her as a gift for recovery and cheer (two things she does not need at this time)? it has to go.

they didn't let her get so much as a breath of a word in before thrusting this monstrosity onto her and walking away with cheerful grins. she's left stunned at the front of her door, holding the large platter with both hands, uncertain how to discard it. no way is this cursed depiction of some matter of creature coming inside the house where she has to sleep.

she walks down the lane of the house and onto the sidewalk, staring hatefully at the gift, almost certain it's mocking her. her eyes dart from the cake, flicking onto another person coming down the street, and an idea comes to her head. she smiles, incapable of looking anything but mildly wicked, and closes the distance in a carefully measured approach. ]

Good day. Would you like this... cake?

[ the ones that pushed it on her said it was a cake, so that's what she's going with. ]

II - Doppelganger (cw: dolls & violence)

[ when walking past a quaint little house on a pleasant stretch of street, you may be stopped in your tracks by the sound of heavy bangs and muffled screams. it's clear they come from inside the house, with the door slightly ajar. the angered sounds of a battle continue and you can either enter or observe.

if you enter: inside two women, near identical in appearance and dress from head to toe, are locked in combat. one is swift, coordinated in the combination of jabs and kicks that put to display her training. the other is stiff and barely able to keep up, unnatural in motion. blinded in rage, the first delivers a swift kick to the other's stomach and knocks her back right toward the door, where you just came in.

if you observe: the noises continue for several lengthy seconds until a woman suddenly stumbles out and falls on her back. her porcelain face is impounded, cracked and hollow, and the only eye she has left darts up to you. she speaks, quiet and fearful: Help... me.

only a moment following, the aggressor comes out from the house - a woman identical to the one on the ground, only clearly human. she scoffs. ]

Asking for help? You're a pitiful imitation.

III - Network (voice)

Has anyone else had something stolen from them? If so, have you any idea where it is?

...Additionally, what is the name of this atrocious planet?

[ ooc: for II, indicate which of the options you want to thread for in the subject line! any spoilers for mandalorian s2 will be tagged as such, though my goal is to avoid them more or less. ]

for buyce

[niteowls]

[ bo-katan is not a deep sleeper, and yet this morning she wakes up with the sort of grogginess that only comes with waking from heavy slumber. she rubs her face and immediately notices how lighter she feels. as if she dropped fifteen pounds.

it strikes her fast, urgently, that she has. the haze of sleep clears in a blink and she springs out from the bed and scans the room. it's clearly a bedroom, though not decorated like any she has ever seen. the wallpaper is an ugly yellow with white floral print, the furniture cheap and unrecognizable in origin (what planet puts a fabric shade over a vase?) and this red get-up spites her.

she quickly locates a closet door and doesn't hesitate to open it and begin to search, desperate, frantic, angered. where is her beskar? her helmet, her gauntlet, her jetpack?! she doesn't even get more than a few seconds into the search before she's ripping out everything and tossing it out into the room, intent on not leaving any stone unturned. ]

[bowfaire]

What?

(STOP, don't give him back his cursed food. He's just going to try to pass it back? This is not a game of hot potato except this would be ten times better if there were actual hot potatoes here.)

Don't worry. (Take it.) It hasn't been in any mouths yet. It came like that.

(No matter how questionable it might look, he did not, in fact, chew it up and put it back on the plate or anything. )

1

[thevalley]

[Nope.

Ellie's just gonna keep one hand firmly planted on the door handle (easy to slam it shut if needed) and the other at her side. She will absolutely not give him any opportunity to try and shove that into her hands.]

Thinking of me, huh? Guess we're enemies or something if I came to mind after looking at that.

[bowfaire]

(Soft, wounded gasp,)

Hardly! I've only just arrived. I'm away from home. From friends and family. (Would tearing up be too much? Hmm, probably too much. He'll save that for later. He places one hand over his heart while the other balances the tray,) I'm all alone in a strange new place and I'm just trying to... not be so alone, you know? It's a friendly offering.

[ribticklers]

But you're new here. [Which Sans knows because one, this guy wasn't at the Christmas gala, and two, you get the weird food gifts when you're new. Of course, that does imply Sans isn't new. That new people are showing up is interesting, but listen. There are important food fights going on. Take your food back.] I can't take your housewarming gift.

[thevalley]

Welcome to the club.

[Though her tone isn't cold. More just resigned. And there's the barest hint of warmth.]

And the first rule of the club is don't trust the weird jelly stuff.

Mary | Spirit Hunter: Death Mark

[dollfie]

A. Arrival

[She expected to wake in a small box, not in a bed like this. The room is like nothing like what she'd have back home, full of dolls and pink and frills. Mary stares at it all very unimpressed and sits up, looking around.

Her body felt...oddly fleshy. She pokes and prods at her arms, frowning, brows furrowed (That's weird too,moving her limbs like this, moving her face), watching the flesh give away under her fingertips.

Slowly she tries to get up and finds herself instantly sprawling as she tries to get up. It takes some trial and error for her to get to the stairs, but whoever decided to give her a human body didn't take into account giving her the knowledge of how to use it.

SHe manages to get crawling down after a bit, but the stairs prove a problem. After a moment she frowns and starts trying to scoot down the stairs, but near the bottom she slips and slides the rest of the way down with a grunt until she lands with a loud thump in a heap at the bottom.

If not found inside, Mary might be found outside the house, but still crawling on hands and knees in her nightgown, trying to collect her bearings.]

B. Snow Day

[She stands amidst the falling snow and shrieking kids with a blank look on her face, staring down at herself as snow begins to seep into her shoes and her socks.]

It's...cold. I've never been cold before. [She muses out loud, holding out a hand to catch some snowflakes. She turns her head to watch some of the children throwing their snowballs and tilts her head]

I fail to see the point of this.

C. Doppelganger.

[Perhaps you live with Mary, or perhaps the shrieking and sounds of fighting carried all the way outside and you're trying to investigate.

Either way, one can find the completely shattered doll all over the floor of the living room, Mary sitting with a book in hand, casually flipping through it.

She glances up, then closes her book on her lap, sitting up straight. She bows her head, her voice formal and polite.]

Hello, my lord(/lady). I hope the noise did not disturb you.

D. Wildcard!

[obligatory wildcard for anything else!]

randall flagg / the stand

[hardcase]

1. january 1st /

[ Flagg is used to waking up in different worlds. What he isn't used to is waking up in a house with people in it. He's a drifter by nature, always outside, always alone.

Except now, apparently, he has a horribly saccharine little family unit to look after, like something straight out of an old magazine. Alright, sure. Let's see where this goes. He sneaks out of bed quietly, figuring he'll let his 'spouse' wake up on their own time as he gets to know his surroundings.

He hangs around the living room quietly until he hears footsteps. ]

You know, I don't usually photograph so well. [ He's staring at one of the pictures on the wall. Otherworldly entities don't generally pose for nice photographs, but there he is smiling for the camera like it's a regular thing. ]

2. clowning around /

[ It doesn't take long for Flagg to accept that he's stuck here. It also doesn't take long for him to embrace the horrible culinary creations that this place has to offer and, after a good read-through of a particularly tacky cookbook he's ready to start handing his own creations out to his unsuspecting neighbors.

He rings the doorbell. If there's no answer, he'll ring it again. He's old, and persistent, and he damn well saw that light on upstairs.

Whoever answers will be met with a man in a denim jacket and an apron with 'KISS THE COOK' written on it in a frilly cursive font, holding a gelatin monstrosity that may or may not be edible. ]

Howdy, neighbor. Just thought I'd introduce myself. Name's Randall Flagg. That's 'Flagg' with a double G.

[ And he grins, offering the culinary disaster to his hapless target. He's more curious about whether or not his neighbor will actually eat the terrible thing he's made for them, but getting to know people can't hurt either. ]

3. wildcard /

[ Anything goes. ]

Dinah Drake Lance | DC Comics (New 52/Rebirth era)

[sonicsiren]

1. Clown Around
[This has been enough of a nightmare as it is. Despite her life with Kurt Lance - and god, that feels like a literal lifetime ago, even if the calendar suggests that she's living in a time where she technically hasn't even been born yet - marriage and kids isn't what Dinah has ever imagined what her life would be like. She's been so many things - a spy, a superhero, a rock star - but a mother? That was never in the cards. Her life has always been too volatile, and for someone who was abandoned by her own mother, she's never quite felt she had it in her to be a good one for one of her own.

All of that is different, now.

What is also different is the creepy candy clown staring at her from the bundt cake on her Formica dining table. It doesn't look like the Joker, thankfully, but clowns are always creepy - Dinah's maintained that ever since watching IT back at the foster home had horrified her as a child. Still, the cake's not Jell-O, and Dinah is a little hungry. Plus she has you - her neighbor, or one of her family members - in the kitchen with her. She's gotten plates and forks together, and she's even managed to make coffee - though warning, Dinah makes TERRIBLE coffee.
She cuts into the cake, morbidly starting with the head of the clown - and -]

Styrofoam?!

2. Coming Attractions

[Dinah's used to the fact that Big Brother - or in her case, Big Sister, thank you Oracle - might be watching and recording. It's not a concept she's always been at peace with, but she's also aware of how helpful a practice it's sometimes been. What she's uneasy with is watching this. It feels like her, but at the same time, it doesn't feel like her. There's that twisted smile for one thing, an expression that Dinah's sure she's never made, even in her darkest moments against an enemy. But this isn't even that. This is Dinah, as a Gotham City street kid, scrounging for food, fighting to survive, fighting to live, before being taken in by Sensei Desmond...and the movie goes ahead up until his death from brain cancer. That's not the worst of it, though.

The worst of it is Desmond, staring straight at Dinah, as if pleading for him to save her - so different from the Desmond who had bravely accepted his fate - while her teenage self gazes brightly at Dinah with that cold smile.

Is she going to tune in for the second part? No. She doesn't want to. But she will.

For now, though, she stumbles out of her car and goes in search of refreshment. What're the chances that they'll have something stronger than a soda at the concession stand?]

3. Doppelganger
[For the last month, there hasn't been any need for Dinah to resort to using her sonic scream. There are no assassins here, no costumed villains. A lot of creepiness, sure, but nothing that's caused the need for Dinah to do her destructive best. Unfortunately, now that she's presented with the opportunity to use her greatest weapon, she literally can't use it. It's gone, and instead she's left screaming like the pretty blonde heroine in a B-grade horror flick as she assaults her doppelganger - WHAT THE HELL - with its own arm. It's screaming back at her, wailing, and even it has a more powerful scream than Dinah herself currently does.

She's only a little jealous of it.

Luckily for her, while her scream might be gone, all of her martial arts training isn't. If anyone's watching from the outside, they'll see her doppelganger - sans one arm - come flying out of the kitchen window, with Dinah following it soon after, still only dressed in her silken, dark blue nightgown, brandishing the doppleganger's other arm in her hand like a bo staff. The next moment, they're in the rose bushes, with Dinah giving it a severe heel palm strike to the chin, following it up with a flying knee to the chest. Oh yes, she's delightfully violent, isn't she? Stand back if you don't accidentally want to get hurt. Or come closer and cheer her on. After all, it's quite a show. Plus, you might be able to answer the question she's asking the doppleganger as she pummels it within an inch of whatever passes for its life.]

Who sent you here?!

4. Network. (Text)

You know, I've never really been technology girl, but this archaic stuff is somehow WORSE than the Q-phone I used to have back home.

That's not why I'm messaging, though.

Anyone seen any really creepy movies lately? Or had, I don't know, an overly familiar houseguest show up?

Drop me a line if you have - let's talk.

Or let's just make plans to meet for coffee, if you want. But please, I beg you. No Jell-O.

5. Wildcard!

[Surprise me! Or PM me on here if you'd like to plan something else out.]

1

[bindsthedead]

And I don't recall posing for ones with you. [Because there's Sabriel in those photos- Sabriel at her current age, smiling while seated at a piano, a younger Sabriel dressed up as a witch, Sabriel smiling up at this man like he's her father...

And then there's the real Sabriel, eyeing him suspiciously and holding a knife with an alarmingly steady grip for a teenage girl.]

Who are you and where is this place?

[buyce]

[Through all the frantic clutter, the sounds of clothes and other knickknacks being tossed out of the closet, Bo-Katan may be able to hear the door to the bedroom open. The sound of footsteps entering the room.]

It isn't here.

[The muffled voice that addresses her is a familiar one, but his wardrobe isn't. His flight suit's been replaced with a simple white shirt and jeans. In place of his cape is a bulky, black leather jacket. His face isn't hidden behind his familiar beskar helm, but what looks to be a biker's helmet. The discolored visor isn't his style, but the Mandalorian's been forced to adapt to their new environment.]

None of it is.

[hardcase]

[ His gaze darts to the knife for a second before he makes eye contact, seeming none too bothered by the possibility of being stabbed. ]

If you cut me with that it'll make an awful mess on this nice carpet, dear. [ 'Dear' might not be the best term of endearment in this situation but he calls a lot of people dear. Force of habit. That his fake-daughter's just as aware of how phony this is is a relief; he doesn't have to try and bullshit. ]

I'm afraid I don't know any more than you do. [ He puts his hands up in mock surrender. ] Looks like someone's pulled one over on the both of us.

network

[niteowls]

Who is Makino?

thread will have mandalorian s2 spoilers

[niteowls]

[ the terrible creak that comes from the room, just outside the closet, distracts her from the task at hand. she steps out of the door, bracing herself for a potential fight, and blinks in confusion. she doesn't know him, but his voice is somehow familiar? where... wait. wait- ]

You... You're that Mandalorian. The one with the child.

[ he never did give her his name, but the vague recognition of his muffled voice clicks. that definitely is no beskar helmet he wears though, a grimace brought out at the sight of him. oh, this is just... she doesn't even know what to say to it. she breathes in, straightens out her expression, and focuses on what's important. ]

Do you have any idea where we are?

chirrut îmwe / star wars

[whillpower]

» waking up

[ this is not death.

chirrut has, by all accounts, spent considerably more time alive than he has dead but he can still say without a sliver of doubt that this is not death. death does not come bearing incredibly soft beds, or comfortable clothes, or the sounds of children playing just outside. death does not ease you gently into consciousness with the warmth of morning sunlight streaming through a window.

it's not death, but it's nothing familiar, either. he sits up, closes his eyes, and focuses on his surroundings, trying to pick up on anything that might indicate where this is. there's a person a few feet away on his left, sleeping or unconscious by the sound of their breathing, but chirrut can only be sure that it isn't baze — their identity otherwise is indecipherable.

another peal of childish laughter rings out from somewhere outside, cutting through the silence — this isn't scarif. it also lacks the sterile scent of a hospital; even jedha city's dusty, back alley clinics had smelled of bacta.

a broadcast is playing from somewhere downstairs but he can't make out what it is.

ah, and perhaps most notably, the force is absent. not silent, not still, just gone. chirrut's connection to it is tenuous on the best of days but right now he feels like a drowning man scrabbling for safety and finding nothing. the first pinprick of fear begins needling its way into his chest. to quell it he furrows his brow and launches into a familiar prayer: ]

The Force is with me, and I am one with the Force; and I fear nothing, because all is as the Force wills it.

[ even, he thinks, when the force is being decidedly stubborn. perhaps especially then.

his expression tightens and he cocks his head, shifting his attention back to the other person in the room. they're stirring now, which surely has nothing to do with the stranger spouting a prayer over here. ]

Are you awake?

» coming attraction

[ the promise of a real thrill-o-rama at the drive-in isn't what's drawn chirrut out tonight. in fact he hadn't even heard about it. he's already making a habit of walking the town each night, covering every square foot he can reach, trying to memorize every path, every alleyway, every storefront. his uneti-wood staff is gone so he uses a cane he'd found to guide him instead. it's flimsy and won't be much use in a fight, but it will do.

the sound of blaster fire is what draws him towards the drive-in. it's the first sign he's had that this might be somewhere closer to home than it seems, but as he gets closer he realizes that it's not real fire at all. it's a recording, but not just of blasters. he can hear himself praying, and baze calling his name. he hears an explosion.

he's listening to his final moments, or what should have been, but how? he can't even begin to make sense of why this would even exist, let alone why it would be playing here.

there's a presence to his left. someone's there, so he turns towards them, brow creased into a deep frown. ]

Are they playing a vid?

» wildcard

( i didn't do more prompts bc i intend to tag out but if you wanna do anything just lmk!!! )

Monika || Doki Doki Literature Club

[peninhand]

1. Snow Day
Snow... Was it the first time she'd ever seen it? Certainly she did have memories of it, but could one even call those fleeting fragments stuck in her head 'memories?' It was all so foggy and unclear... She could see herself with her parents playing in the snow, yet she couldn't remember their faces. She couldn't remember the sensation of touching snow, she couldn't remember what she'd been doing. Why, she could barely remember anything! What she remembered could be summarized as a short sentence.

It was probably to be expected, after all her past was nothing but an after-thought. Not actual memories, but lines of code that translated as memories in her mind. Bits of programming to maintain the illusion of her being an actual human. If only her creator had cared more about her... Ahaha. What a silly thought.

Thus one could find Monika isolated from pretty much everyone else, holding a snowball in hand. Half-melted, at that. She was absolutely lost in thoughts and contemplation of this very simple yet fascinating thing.


2. Doppelganger
It would appear today was garbage day, for Monika could be found taking out the trash! She came out of her house with a black garbage bag in hand, doubtlessly filled with all sorts of unsightly things best taken out. And of course being the polite person she is, upon spotting you Monika flashed a bright smile followed by a greeting.

"Good morning~!"

She put the bag into the garbage bin, sighing with relief. Just another day in paradise, to be sure. But alas, ere she could do or say anything else, a noise emerged from the garbage bin. Muffled and broken as it was, one could still recognize it as doll-like imitation of Monika's very own voice.

"whY dId YoU cUt Me InTo TiNy PiEcEs? It iS sOo MeAn!"

Upon hearing that, Monika's eyes widened and her cheeks flushed— That... thing was still working? After how it had tried to imitate her, how it had tried to replace her and kill her? After how she had dismantled and broken it? Why, how? It was not only scary but also infuriating. Gritting her teeth, she took the lid of the garbage bin and put it back on top, slamming her hand onto it, as if trying to flatten the garbage bags beneath.

"Ah... Ahaha...!" Needless to say, she was more embarrassed than ever. Her smile cracked up, her hand slamming upon the garbage bin once more to definitely shut that doll up. "What a silly toy!"


3. Network
Hey everybody! My name's Monika.

Don't you think what we're going through kind of feels like some kind of... I dunno, video game? We've got very clear boundaries in the world around us that we can't trespass, we're supposed to follow a very specific script and are punished if we deviate from it, we have things we must go through...

I don't know, maybe that's a silly thought. I guess that's just something I had in mind and wanted to share, ahaha!