xistentiaooc | Test Drive Meme #5

Entry tags:

#meme,
#tdm

Test Drive Meme #5

You wouldn’t wake; i couldn’t sleep for years.

CRASH LANDING

Exit one dimension, enter the next. It was chaos: pressure against your ears, light bending in an impossible, unimaginable way. The very molecules of your body vibrating against one another. If you have windows, the view outside makes no sense. Even if not, your hands, your face, your feet seem like an uncertain thing. It's the feel of reality itself tearing apart, reshaping, reconnecting, thread by thread.

And suddenly, there's a beach— or ocean, whichever you land in. Smoke. Fire. Salt water churning up, fizzing around.

Maybe you crash, in a ship wrecking into sand. Maybe you merely stumble out of a portal, a ragged wormhole in space. Or maybe you fall off the back of an incredible steed, some creature that carried you into this place. Either way, there's pandemonium around you. Incredibly, severe injuries are far and few between— nobody's screaming about the dead. But you might have to help pull someone free of wreckage, or move quickly to salvage burning belongings from the landing craft. Maybe it's the crafts themselves, that you're trying to salvage.

Likely, you don't know them, these other strangers who arrived here^[1]. Maybe you don't trust them— you just came out of a dying world, after all. But you all have one thing in common: you're here now.

When you get a second to breathe, maybe you'll see it. The brilliant green forest across the sand. Beyond that, the glint of a faraway city.

THE RAIN

Here comes the rain. Trickling down the rafters and tinkling down the trees, it starts as a drizzle and steadily increases to a downpour. Maybe it catches you by surprise, chasing you indoors or to share the umbrella of a friendly stranger. There's something oddly elaborate about the gutters of Xistentia's city-- it clearly carries the water toward the temple in the East, a storm system that causes the lamps to pulsate without threatening to shut down.

You'll notice too that you're prone to nostalgia which even infiltrate your dreams, memories sad or happy. This is easily a private experience, but you might find yourself wandering the city to get away from old ghosts or feeling invincible in the glow of memories. More oddly, whether or not you're an artist, you might be inspired to draw on the windows with your finger in the condensation.

Personal symbols, detailed illustrations, these inextricably lead back to the nostalgia. Whatever it is, it might pull someone to ask.

NETWORK

By now, the city of Xistentia has a population of over 400 people. Shops line the streets of downtown, and increasingly well-trodden paths will take you into the agricultural zones nearer to the forest or even down to the beach. There are still distinctive animal presences around— careful with that— but the most common critters you'll see are birds crapping on your stuff outside and tiny winged hairless people creeping your food.

One afternoon, you are taken from whatever you’re doing - taking a walk through the city, sunning yourself on the beach, running around in the forest shoring up defenses - by a message, appearing on your Daemon’s network screen. It’s a simple line of text, that reads:

PHOTO SENT

It would appear that your daemon accidentally sent a picture, perhaps one from your photo roll or instagram, or a random shot of you or your surroundings. Wait. Was that a public network post? Wait—

IMAGE CODE TEMPLATE

CHOOSE YOUR OWN ADVENTURE

hells yeah

Footnotes

Some of these can be nameless, plot-device NPCs to facilitate interactions! But even in this case, please avoid gore in describing their current state of being. Anyone dead or catastrophically injured will have disappeared by the time your characters make it to Xistentia. There are no corpses or dying here.
But like OOCly ask permission ofc.

Threaded | Top-Level Comments Only

i. crash landing

[ waking up isn't the most dignified experience, but then again, juno's not really worried about looking very dignified as he jerks up from his place face down in the sand and the salt and the water, the heat of fire the first thing filling his lungs instead of cold air as he sputters alive like some old, rickety car left to die out in the middle of the martian desert but somehow miraculously finding it in itself to work. once he's up on his feet, he doesn't exactly go making himself scarce.

there's a fire, a wreckage, smoke and debris, you see, and among it, there are people who are struggling and shouting, as you do. and then there's juno who, unfortunately, isn't sure what save your own skin or even give yourself a second to breathe means anymore. so of course first thing he does is head straight for the heart of what he's call "A Bad Time", getting his hands dirty with blood and leveraging up pieces of scattered scrap that have people pinned too close to the fire.

but juno's only human and by the time things start to wind down, he's feeling the burn, literally, dragging himself up from the edge of the beach with blood on his hands, blood on his coat, blood on his trousers, and smoke and smudged ash about everywhere else.

if you even look remotely like you know what you're doing and weren't one of the people caught in or around the wreck by the beach, he reaches up with one hand that looks in pretty bad shape. ]

Hey, [ he half-rasps, smoke pretty comfortable where it is sitting in his lungs. yeah. great. he never asked for you to make yourself at home. ] Where's a lady gotta go to get a decent drink around here?

[ yeah that's a forest behind them, and the silhouette of a city decorated by the slowly dipping sun that he should start heading towards, but juno's got priorities. you don't survive a thing like this without booze, right? ]

ii. rain

[ umbrellas are for chumps, which is why juno doesn't have one. awesome.

besides, he's pretty sure he deserves to get rained on regardless. it's damp, a little humid, but hey. free shower. so not all that bed. except for the fact that he's wet and his daemon is pestering him aggressively with the fact that she's just as damp, feathers at her crown and throat wet and raised upwards in indignation with every drop. dahliad is clearly unamused by the whole weather phenomenon, walking as close to the shop overhangs as she can while juno lingers in the main street, grousing some paces away from her.

"detective," she says in a way that makes juno's fingers flex instinctively, in a way that makes his heart sink straight down to his shoes. "you'll catch cold that way." ]

Didn't they disprove that like thousands of years ago? Don't-- [ can peacocks look disappointed? they can if they're dahliad. ] Fine fine, just... don't get your feathers in a bunch. Hang on.

[ birds amiright? can't he just be allowed to brood in the rain in peace?????

juno makes it quick regardless, trying to find some overhang he can loiter under maybe until the rest of this storm is over, however long that might take. clearly he's doing this for her, not for himself, not because he's soaked to the bone or the warm lights of window shops have him edging closer towards them, some of them pretty average looking, but as he sits down in the first available bench under some cover, daliahd pressed up against his side and slowly squirming her wet, feathery way under his coat for warmth, he realizes he's next to a rather nicely-done up clothing boutique, and the closest thing to his head is a slinky red number, lined in gold from bust to ankle, the kind of thing you might wear on a night out on the town.

you bought me clothes?
don't say i never get you anything! see you soon!

now juno's never been much of an artist, but it's pure impulse that he reaches a hand up to the panel of glass beside him and starts idly drawing out what might look like a train.

dahliad pipes up: "what an extraordinary-looking... mm. hm. is that caterpillar on fire?"

juno gives her a very flat look. ]

No one asked for your input. When you sprout fingers then you can start criticizing my damn art.

[ "well, what is that supposed to be, darling?"

juno doesn't answer, mouth twisting a little as he gets comfortable squabbling with a white peacock hanging out underneath his coat. these are the people you want to hang out with. totally. a busted-up-looking, drenched detective and a peacock that looks about as smug as a peacock gets. please interrupt them. ]

iii. network

USERNAME DAHLIAD

or make your own adventure.

[ i ain't choosy. ]

Edited (bc i realized i needed a network option oops?) 2017-09-24 01:22 (UTC)

A. Crash Landing

[ The thing about not being totally sane is that when reality is actually coming apart you don't even know if it's real or not. After all, what's real often times feels so abstract and the stuff that's all in your head is utterly and viscerally tactile, you can't escape it no matter what.

So, it's no surprise that Elliot Alderson is questioning his sanity as he lands on a beach. The last thing he remembers is Tyrell and the sound of a gun and then pain. At least he thinks that's the last thing he remembers but he's not in pain and as he looks down at his body he doesn't see any particularly grievous injuries either.

In the midst of relative chaos, Elliot is standing there looking quite lost. The voice in his head doesn't seem to be there -- any of them.

This can't be real, right? ]

B. Network

un: flipperd

C. Wildcard

[ Whatever else fits your fancy. Hit me with your best shot! ]

[There is a metal man descending from the sky, all red and gold. Against any light as bright as the sun, most objects would appear silhouetted, darkened and dulled out. But not the Iron Man, who remains as subtle as ever. A lot of things have changed since JARVIS powered his suit, but not his penchant for color and preferences about the palette. Repulsors on, the pressure fluctuates across the sand below his feet, ripping heat through the air, and scattering more particulates into Juno's eyes, probably.

Sorry about that, Juno. But in a moment, it gets better, because he cuts the thrusters and drops neatly onto the beach.

His faceplate is either impassive or grim to look at, depending on how you tend to interpret the glowy eye slits and the severe horizontal of his mouth. But his voice is pretty perky!! emerging in digitized format, as he reaches down to grasp Juno's hand with a mechanical gauntlet.] Gender stuff aside, [he says,] do you happen to be experiencing an oxygen problem? You sound a little asthmatic, buddy.

[ oh cool. metal men from the sky. that's not dredging up any bitter memories from juno about how the hell he got here in the first place. he covers his eyes a minute because boy that's a fuckton of sand and he's not all that keen about getting it in places it doesn't belong when it's already well and situated there along with the seawater (#thanksxistentia).

whoever it is though sounds awfully chipper and isn't about the whole "shoot first, ask questions later" so steel is going to take what he can get, even if it's with a wary eye. he grabs the gauntlet and hauls himself up. ]

I'm fine. Just always had sensitive lungs, especially when people go flinging sand around everywhere while making a flashy landing like that. Nice one. Ten outta ten.

( she knows what it's like on the first day, surrounded by violence and chaos, always living bodies but some just on the brink. it's not happy, but it happens once a month, every month and shepard has made it her priority to see to the new arrivals, make this transition a bit easier with padded blows. and to get information, if she can, but not even she could tell you what she's looking for. gripping at strings, probably, hoping for something better.

in walk juno steel.

more appropriately, in drowns juno steel -- a lump of brown and black and red buoying in the ocean, bobbing face down in the thrashing waves. first death in xist? shepard chases after him without a thought, picking him out of the water with immeasurable strength, hauling his form over his shoulder while she helps him out. that's easy. he's breathing, she finds out when she sets him down on the sand, thumping his chest with her palms a few times for good measure. alive, that's good news. she breathes a sigh of relief just before he says that -- and a laugh is stolen from her chest, abrupt and sudden, surprising even her. )

First things first -- you got a name, soldier? And how about some dry clothes?

[#xistentiawelcomes. Iron Man also welcomes. There is considerably better-than-human strength in the mechanics of his suit, enough to hoist a car or steer a nuclear missile in an entirely different direction. Thus! He plucks Juno out of the sand like you'd lift a lost doll out of the beach. He gives Juno's sand-matted tummy area a cursory whack, not very hard at all, freeing a few more grains down into the beach.]

Thanks.

[He releases Juno after a moment. Turns his head to scan the beach real quick, assessing the information that his HUD feeds him inside the quiet of his helmet. Fuel receptacles on a fallen craft set to explode, but the people scattering away from it already. There have been enough crashes on this damn beach that people know what to do when ships start to pop off wheezy fires.] I don't have an inhaler, but I can probably put the helmet on your head. Help you balance your O2 stats. Are we worried? You don't look worried, but I'm getting irreverent sarcasm vibes.

[ oh god.

that's a lot of salt water.

that's more salt water than juno has ever... ever swallowed in his entire life, and more than he ever wants to swallow again. just give him a second shep, he's rolling over just. getting a little dignity here. oh god. she carried him. she carried him out of the water, he felt that.

does she lift?

focus.

no... no. almost vomit first. yeah. spit up a little water, but nothing else. super attractive, but his stomach is pitching a fit so this has to be done before he manages anything else.

now focus.

"do you lift"-- ]

Juno Steel. And unless someone packed my suitcase before throwing me down whatever the hell that was, no. This is, uh, this is all I've got.

[ it's uncomfortably wet. ]

It's fine, I'm fine. Really. Sand in my eye, but nothing's worse than Martian sand so all in all, not bad.

[ well. said sand in the theia spectrum, which makes his right eye do a little bit of a technicolored dance and awkward chameleon roll to the left and right, isn't great, but he's had worse? so he'll deal with it as he's dusted off briefly and gives his own coat a little bit of a shake off. better. closer. warmer. still grainy, but nothing he can't shake out in private probably. ]

It's just a typical Tuesday. I'll be okay. Don't need a bucket on my head, Tin Man, but thanks for the offer. But a change of scenery might be nice. One that's not as sandy.

[ he's worried about 10 million things but they're all screaming so loudly that they go dead silent so he has to fill that silence with sarcasm. it's all good here, iron man. ]

( there's a tidal wave worse than the downpour from the sky headed juno's way -- he might find his memory stirring by some unruly murmuring from off screen, in a voice that sounds scarily familiar in an annoying and childish way, but once the wave locates juno, there's no hope for him at all. she comes, feet stomping, clothes wet, hair deflated on her shoulders. it seems like one (1) rita the great was in the middle of a rant with herself, which she starts fresh off as soon as she sees juno. )

Mister Steel, oh you've done it, you've really done it this time! You believe this? I wake up in the middle of butt nowhere and some robot guy's yelling at me going, oh the world's ended, bye Mars. No way! I try to contact Mister Steel, you know, like always, and what do I get? A voicemail! Yet here he is, plain as can be, making googly eyes at a peacock in the rain. Absolutely unbelievable! Do you have any idea what I'm missing back at home, Mister Steel? Do you? It's a movie marathon of The Lion, The Witch, and the Tentacle Monster from the Outer Rim. I mean, mind you it's not the top tier of movie entertainment, but there's this real nice looking lady in it -- I remember my friend Lizzie was telling me about her once, she was in some ad campaign for some kinda sexually transmitted whosie-whatsit, but just cause she's in the ad don't means she's got the disease, right? Anyway I remember Lizzie telling me all about this --

( it could go on forever please help me )

Edited 2017-09-24 04:49 (UTC)

i. crash landing;
[ This isn't right. This isn't anywhere that he recognizes, and it's the second time the world's gone weird in such a short burst that all he can think of is that he's going absolutely insane.

But the monster, that had been real, and the smell of it burning, that had been real, and the blood on the bat full of nails had been real, same with the solid thunk, the type of strike that Steve owed to his Little League days where he'd try to hit not a home run, but other players on the field. That had been real, too.

No, this isn't right. But the sand feels real, and the wreckage looks real.

The problem is that Steve, stumbling from the ground, nearly tripping over once white shoes, has no longer questioned it. Instead, he laughs. He laughs, and digs his heels into the sand, and almost runs a hand through his hair before he remembers that it's still gelled, and god dammit, something has to be normal here and it may as well be his hair. ]

Woah, woah woah woah-- [ let it be known that Steve isn't completely an asshole, just mostly one: he's spotted someone under something, a weird sheet of metal, and he himself only has a few scuffs that had been from Hawkins and not the landing. ]

Don't move. Hang on.

[ He lifts as best as he can, succeeding in giving the other just enough room to escape from underneath. ]

Y'okay?

ii. network;
un: sharrington

iii. wildcard;
[ Go crazy! ]

( juno steel, he says. interesting name. i know a star named after you, she'd say in an ordinary circumstance, but now doesn't seem like the best time, so she very politely keeps it to herself, instead offering him a pat on the back while he coughs up, hopefully enabling him to empty his stomach a bit better. it's alright juno, shepard does not have a judgmental bone in her body.

she nods once in understanding, and then again in a specific direction, sitting back on her heels. )

I took off my hoodie before I ran and got you. Sit tight, Juno.

( she scatters to go collect her abandoned, sandy n7 hoodie. the board of human civilization would absolutely have a fit if they found out she'd given it to anyone, but they aren't here and juno is, so.

she patters back to his side, hoodie in hand. holding it out, )

I'm Shepard.

[ oh no.

ohhhhh no. oh wow. oh yes. because he didn't get to spend nearly as much time running around the flaming "IT'S FINE!" wreckage on the beach looking for her as he'd have liked before being dragged away. and now? well, now juno doesn't waste any time. the second that familiar voice starts going off about some weird space stds, he's standing up, displacing his daemon who squawks again with an "i'm not done with you!"

well listen she is now because juno isn't even going to waste time. yeah, she's babbling on about someone named lizzie and this one time that juno is blocking out because he's got this basically down to a science, he might just be clutching her half in-half out of the rain. ]

Rita.

[ it's literally only going to last like 4 seconds before he stares at her kind of dumbly. ]

I didn't see you on the beach--you--

[ shh. don't! don't talk! don't go off on a tangent yet, let him ask the most important question before you go on. ]

You okay? Besides the... movie marathon thing.

[ priorities. rita's got 'em. good to see they haven't been washed away with the tide. it's. kind of a relief. ]

hairs a lil big man but i aint picky
u like 2 go facedown ro faceup?

[this is

an excellent misunderstanding.]

If anything it's not big enough.

[ Pomade, son. Also just going to ignore the last bit because what

no seriously, what. ]

Edited 2017-09-24 05:14 (UTC)

[what do you mean what.]

wow dont be a bitch, u aint even seen ti yet
6.5 inches jncut
the way the motherland made it
i only top

[he does not only top. but for the purposes of this conversation, one piece of information as only as irrelevant as the next?]

[ juno doesn't really have words as he rolls over in the sand for a hot second, patting himself down slowly. keys to his non-existent car that's somewhere in the martian desert still, his blaster is somehow still in its holster, though the cartridges are probably soaked, wallet, yeah. yeah... just... he's not all put together, not all there, but he's getting somewhere at least. as he sits up, his head throbs, the cybernetic right eye going absolutely wild with colors and readjustments to having gotten salt and sand all over it--

REBOOTING. PLEASE WAIT.

this. oh this sucks. that's one eye going dark while the other tries to adjust to the sudden impact of only seeing half the world again. may as well cover that up while the theia is working its magic, huddling in his drenched coat for just a few moments longer before shepard's quick steps return and he peeks out of his only good eye to see the hoodie in her hand. ]

My hero, [ because as juno (hesitantly) takes the hoodie, he realizes just how terrible at retaining heat his coat is right now and all he wants is to be dry and warm.

this is a start.

god he doesn't deserve this. but. he's going to shuck off his coat quickly and pull the hoodie on over his shoulders, narrower than the deceptively well-cut coat indicates. that feels... so much better already, even if he has to listen to the theia countdown the seconds to full restore (54... 53... 52... 51...) ] You make a habit out of cleaning up the water?

[ bc he's garbage u get it but he's also asking for a real reason ok. ]

What are you even talking about?

[ a minute later: ]

Are you seriously telling me about your dick?

[Mandy doesn't know what she's doing down here with the--rescue party, welcome wagon, whatever the bloody hell you call dragging people from the wreckage of the apocalypse. But she's here today, anyway, and if she still believed in crap like kismet or fate, she might blame that since hearing someone call themselves a 'lady' with the sort of voice and body that would make others laugh at the word while they're laid out bleeding...

Well, it takes her back to a place she's not certain she wants to be, but also wouldn't forget for all the damn worlds. She straightens more than she has in ages, glad she actually grabbed her bag and wore sensible shoes before coming down here and marches over with a twisted smile]

If I knew there would be a lady in need of a drink nearly as badly as I was when I got here, I'd have grabbed a bottle of Scotch on my way out. [she says, the barest hint of a London accent weaving in and out of a flat American one as she gets close As she does, the Siamese cat that functions as her daemon jumps down to the sand at her side]

Alchol does not help bleeding. [it states, matter of factly. For her part, Mandy just gives Gildad a slightly withering look before turning back to the person in front of her, leaning down and holding out a hand that still has a few big, cheap rings and bracelets on it]

If I give you a leg up, think you can lean on me without dragging us both down? Because, while it wouldn't be my first time tumbling to the ground with a gorgeous person, I'd rather worry about just getting one of us cleaned up.

Edited 2017-09-24 07:18 (UTC)

[ why are cats so sassy? he's done with cats. he's chanced one too many off the freeway (read: one) and now he's officially Not A Cat Person anymore. but cats aside, juno looks up at the hand offered to him and braces himself just a bit to take on most of his weight regardless. ]

Think I can manage that. Last thing I wanna do is take you down with me. View's not so great down here. Lots of sand. And sand.

[ he grabs her hand, and the grip isn't all that firm, maybe because he doesn't want to get too much blood or ash or her, or maybe because he's a stubborn ass trying to get to his feet himself. he probably would drag them both down if he tried to put all of his weight into the helping hand. still, juno appreciates it as he gets himself standing, shedding sand from his coat. it hurts, but somewhere along the line, juno can catalogue a hurt that's been worse, so he muscles through it, though not with a smile, more of a wince.

still, he's up. an improvement. he's leaning a little, but only as much as he dares. just enough to keep the world from completely spinning off its axis and sending him tumbling to the ground again. ]

I like my scotch without sand in it anyways. So no loss. [ half a beat. ] Thanks.

i. i can’t stand the rain

[ When the rain begins, it doesn’t bother Darlene too much -- it’s hardly anything more than a light mist of precipitation in the air that barely has her feeling damp -- she simply pulls up the hood of her jacket, olive green and fashionably oversized on Darlene’s thin frame, and keeps making her way down the sidewalk.

Her stroll is lazy, but there’s intent in the way she studies the storefronts that she passes by. As though looking for something in particular, but in the most seemingly disinterested way possible.

But, soon enough the barely there misting has turned into an all out downpour, and the hood of her jacket isn’t doing very much in the way of keeping her dry anymore. To be honest, nothing that she has on is holding up well against the sudden rainstorm; her tights are soaked around the calves, the soles of her heavy combat-style boots are begin to squish with each step she takes, even her jacket is starting to feel weighed down as it soaks up the rainwater. Rather than try to weather it out any longer, Darlene ducks into the first open shop that she comes across. ]

Ugh. [ The word comes out as a groan. ] You have got to be kidding me.

[ She hardly gives the rest of the store, or the people inside, a second glance before pulling her bookbag off and unzipping it to check the contents inside.

Hopefully they weren’t ruined. ]

ii. but first, let me take a selfie

un : ciscod

iii. you can do what you want, baby

[ wildcard option. open to anything in any setting. feel free to ping

unnideul to discuss. ]

[ This isn’t the world as Darlene remembers seeing it last. She had been nowhere near the ocean, and while the world had definitely been in the midsts of plunging into chaos, it wasn’t this kind of chaos. The chaos that she remembers isn’t nearly as tangible as this is -- there wasn’t agonizing screams, or battered bodies, or any of the burning debris.

She remembers financial chaos. White-collar kind of chaos. Chaos that she had some modicum of control over.

(Then again, did anyone have any real control in this world?)

There’s nothing familiar. No high rise buildings, no hustling and bustling population, this is about as far from New York City as she can get. But then she spots him, the one constant in the whirlwind that has been her entire life. The one person that she’s always counted on, the one person that’s been there despite it all -- and even in times he may not have wanted to be. She's as devoted to him as she is to their cause.

The bottoms of his hoodie sleeves are a little tattered, but there's of course the hood pulled up over his head. She would recognize him anywhere. ]

Elliot!

[ She closes the distance between them as quickly as her legs will carry her, stopping just short of the other and looking him over. ]

It’s really you? Are you okay?

[ Cause very little else looks okay around them. ]

What the hell is going on?

crash landing;

[ Atop the sounds of those struggling in the sand, the crackle of fire and crinkle of metal contorting in ways that it shouldn't, there comes a deafening engine rev as a motorcycle launches out of nearby time and space fluctuation. The tires screech against a suddenly much softer surface that the rider is too disoriented to adjust to. It's not a steed proper but Tatsuki is still bucked off its back harshly all the same; he flies through the air, a gangly mess of long limbs and confusion.

He rolls once he collides with the ground, some good few turns away from his now crashed Honda CBR. He gives a groan but doesn't move just yet. Give him time to come to his senses. This poor boy's just been through one helluva ride.

He's aware enough, however, that should anyone try to touch him their hand will be immediately slapped away. Even if they're only trying to help, they'll be met with a surprisingly icy glare for such otherwise foggy eyes. ]

rain;

[ Standing out in the rain with only a windbreaker on for protection is Tatsuki. He's still adjusting to this new dimension, to the knowledge of the fate of his world. His daemon has taken the form of a glove, just one, that he often wore to minimize contact with others. The matching one is in his pocket as he's pre-occupied with doodling an image on a foggy window.

He's understandably shaken. Upset. One wouldn't know it, looking at his perfectly stony face. But this isn't something that anyone adjusts to as easily as they might seem. It doesn't help that nostalgia isn't a feeling he enjoys. The swell of emotions at remembering things past - how things used to be, how he used to be - had never sat well. Even now, it's difficult to bite back and rein in just how bothersome the changes in himself are, especially when it came to his family.

He hopes that Kotarou is alright. Maybe it's the recollection of his cousin that causes his fingers to idly trace a string of flowers along the window's surface. It's a thoughtless motion that allows him something else to focus on besides what once was. ]

network;

(( ooc; in lieu of a proper permissions post, it should be noted that tatsuki has a psychic ability triggered by touch! if he touches your character (skin to skin contact), he might be able to see a memory. the catch is it's usually a bad memory i.e. one with negative associations. icly, he will avoid this at all costs. oocly, i'm perfectly fine with this happening but hmu via pm or

puddingandpie so we can hash out what tatsuki will see! ))

Edited 2017-09-24 13:01 (UTC)

It looks good, but is it real meat, cloned meat, or some kind of crushed up insect substitute that they're telling you is chicken, but it's actually some kind of crunchy nightmare?

[ u never know where he's from. but that's space. still, nice menu. ]

Edited 2017-09-24 15:14 (UTC)

[Mandy isn't sure if Gildad's behavior is because of her form, or because she's...well, hers. Either way, generally speaking, it's not a problem. But occasionally, the cat makes the m most inappropriate, unhelpful remarks.

Also like the person she's paired with.

At any rate, while she hasn't been playing the dual role of hostess and bouncer for awhile now, she's been helping more people than she would like to think about get around back home when they couldn't stand, so she doesn't lean too much under Juno's weight]

Don't mention it. [she grins, although it doesn't quite meet her eyes. She hardly notices that she's trying to catalog the scrapes and cuts as she works to get them out of the sand. She hasn't done that in ages, finding someone beat up and thinking quick about if she can deal with it herself] How much of that blood's yours? Because, if it's as much as I'm seeing, we might want to get you a virgin Screwdriver for starters.

[jokes about drinking are easier than...well, the whole sight around them]

I do know quite a bit about getting blood out of clothes, though.

Threaded | Top-Level Comments Only

Page 1 of 15

Test Drive Meme #5

juno steel / the penumbra podcast

Elliot Alderson | MR ROBOT

A. Crash Landing

B. Network

C. Wildcard

beach;

no subject

crash - edits to fit my agenda

no subject

thanks dad

no subject

rain!!!!!

steve harrington | stranger things

np daughter

i literally cannot believe u did this to me??? and my heart???

network;

network;

cw sexual vulgarity

no subject

1/1

2/2

beach

no subject

Darlene Alderson | MR. ROBOT

C-c-c-crash landing!

tatsuki oohira | hands off!

net. un: dahliad

no subject