TEST DRIVE MEME #3

[sailmods]

1. you're the only one you owe (GUEST STARRING: selenokinesis and creepyoldguy)

[you wake up.

it doesn't matter where you were before. going to bed? dying? opening the door to face a great evil? same result. you wake up in a soft bed with starched sheets in a cool, darkened room, sunlight peeking out from behind thick curtains. maybe you're alone; maybe you aren't. maybe you immediately notice the folded paper on the bedside table near your head. if you don't, you better fix that real quick: you won't be able to even open the door before you read it.

the note itself is written in a neat hand on white card stock; there is a stylized logo of a ship with the words SERENA ETERNA printed underneath. the note reads as follows:

Dear Passengers(s),

You'll be unable to leave your cabin until you read this note. Congratulations on making it past the first step. Keep reading if you wish, as I have information to share with you, as a fellow passenger stuck aboard this ship. Or don't continue reading, and burn the note. I'm not particularly invested either way, especially if you choose to throw away valuable warnings.

Watch out for the Captain.

Be cautious what you sign up for.

If you die, you'll come back to life eventually, though I would recommend you try not to die.

Your life is the Captain's plaything.

Do not think for one moment that someone isn't watching you.

With that aside, I am now contractually obligated to tell you the following: You will find a life jacket within your cabin's closet, and you are required to bring it with you to your assigned muster station on deck one. A companion and I will take you through the drill. If you cannot find us, look for a tall male with white hair and blue eyes and a friendly-looking man with unkept brown hair and a winning smile.

Respectfully,
Moon Master Ebalon

you walk to deck one. you have no other choice: every time you try to step in a direction some unseen being considers "not towards deck one," you find your legs no longer move, staying stock still, frozen. whether compelled quickly by curiosity, or delayed by pure stubbornness, the result is the same, and you are left milling around with other similarly curious or stubborn people.

you see two people standing at the front of the crowd: an exhausted-looking man with white hair who seems rather displeased that he's been roped into this, and a man with a wide grin, bright green tips on his hair, and amber eyes. the latter is waving cheerfully, having an armful of leis. he quite happily puts them around people’s necks and while they’re distracted, attempts to dip them into a kiss.

as he’s basically a walking corpse, and smells like one to boot, it’s not exactly hitting the jackpot. but, he does at least listen to the word “NO”.

the tired-seeming man ignores this and announces over the drone of chattering passengers like yourself,]

Welcome to the Serena Eterna. Do try to enjoy your stay here; it is rather permanent in nature, huhu.

[and from next to his companion, the… er, overly-affectionate man who sounds as though he smokes ten packs a day rasps,]

You’re all doomed!

[you touch the lei. rooster feathers, lotus seeds, and a carved circle of something white and hard, linked onto a silk string.

after the duo complete the drill, you'll find that your legs suddenly obey your command, for what that's worth.

welcome aboard, passenger. we hope you enjoy your stay.]

2. one by one they'll do you in

[it starts, as most things do, with a table lamp. floating down a hallway, or the length of the promenade. ambling at a distinct clip: one-two-three-KICK, one-two-three-KICK.

and that's... not immediately concerning. after all, things float around here all the time; usually plates and drinks, but maybe the shades want to mix it up a bit. the lamp is alone for about a half hour before it is joined by others. a pillow. some knickknack from the ship store. Friday's clipboard. an empty vodka bottle. all have lined up, one in front of the other, and lead a procession snaking around the ship, growing with each passing hour. anyone familiar with the concept would begin to recognize it as a massive conga line.

there is a small chance you will want to join of your own free will. most likely, you will not want that. this does not matter: something compels you, like pins and needles in your feet, to join the dance. and once you have joined in... your body fights your mind on the subject, even as it grows more and more tired.

you pass by a familiar face. they could help pull you out. or you could pull them in.]

3. the price of vice foretold

[the scent of citrus and coconut rum hangs heavy in the air. there is a new storefront on the promenade, tucked between Sand Dollars and John's in a place where you are very certain there was not enough space to tuck a store before.

the clothes for sale are... a lot. like, a lot a lot. but, there are quite a lot of choices, though they do seem to repeat a little, once you've gone in far enough. in fact, even if you actively attempt to find it, you can't seem to find the back of the store. you can see a wall, sure, but it never seems to get any closer, even as you walk towards it.

be forewarned: the infinite tommy bahama does not have food or water.]

Comments

dimos | nier re[in]carnation | double fisting the tdms don't mind me

[prayererror]

the conga prompt

[Dimos--

Dimos has never danced.

This is likely not a strange thing to know, when one looks at him in his cowboy boots and faded jeans. However, yet again his legs are beyond him, his motor skills beyond his own control for the moment, and he's been ensnared in the invisible conga line. It's a hell of a picture, actually; one shirtless grey cowboy, covered in bandages and scars, completely deadpan, following the traditional conga cadence.

He doesn't even look away once he realises they're dancing past someone. He does, however, speak very clearly.]

Do not get close. I will become exhausted, and beyond the point of functioning. You, however, may not be salvageable if the same happens to you.

the eternal nature of tommy bahama

[He also doesn't really give a shit about clothes; newer models have shirts, cloaks, garb that protects them from the elements, but none of this matters to him. (What he's currently wearing is only worn out of habit and a sense of public decency needing to be followed, in order to assimilate quietly.) It's the smell of this store, thick and warm and fruity, that draws him in.

Once he realises there's no food source, however, he allows himself to look at what's on offer. It's more an idle act done out of curiosity and the thought of 'perhaps keeping something for his master if he ever arrives', that Dimos can be found delicately putting on a large straw hat (atop a pile of 3 other straw hats already balanced on his head) and rifling through a rack of jauntily-striped polos.]

There is no khaki. Why is there no khaki? It is a tactical choice.

Conga Lyin'

[serialskiller]

[A red beam of light streaks across the promenade as someone (something) shoots the lamp in an attempt to end the ghastly conga. A figure stands with arm outstretched near the small pub-style restaurant, an energy weapon of some sort extended from a panel in its arm. It's dressed in dark clothing--hoodie, cargo pants, work boots, and seems exasperated with life.]

Trafalgar D. Law | One Piece

[takticals]

1) arrival & safety drill

[ "The safety briefing is now over, which means the fun can officially begin," huh? Somehow, Law doesn't think this is going to fall under his definition of fun. Not least of which because of the obnoxious man that had insisted on putting a lei around his neck and had been shouting about doom. (To be fair, though, would anything really be "fun" to him, especially right now?)

He's got his sword over one shoulder, the life jacket under one arm, and the white card in the opposite hand, having brought it with him from his cabin. He scans over the words again, trying to make sense of them within a framework he understands.

Your life is the Captain's plaything. Do not think for one moment that someone isn't watching you.

Law grits his teeth. He thinks of his time on Doflamingo's ship, in the jaws of danger without fully understanding. He's not thrilled to face what sounds like it could be another situation like that, assuming he can trust this card. Looking down the deck, it's clear this ship is larger than any he's used to. Why would another captain bring him aboard their ship, and without even trying to suppress his abilities? It doesn't make much sense. The last thing he remembers is Onigashima, but it's clear there's some hole in his memory between then and now. ]

None of this explains anything... [ Anything that isn't safety procedures and smoking rules, anyway. Those had been thoroughly explained. ]

2) unintended dancing

[ If there's one thing Law can't stomach, it's being made to move against his will. The feeling of having his body move in ways he's not intending, or indeed against his wishes, isn't just unpleasant, as it naturally would be to anyone - it's personally sickening, his head immediately filled with images of being a puppet on strings, the wide, sick smile of the puppeteer and its accompanying laugh echoing in his head.

But besides all that, did it have to be dancing? This is... kind of humiliating. What's worse is that he's dancing behind some kind of electrical appliance.

They don't even have the decency of having any music, either.

If you come close, he might try to warn you: ]

Stay away - believe me - you don't want to be doing this. [ He sounds tired, though, and his kicks aren't exactly very energetic. How long has he been a part of the line? Honestly, he's not sure either. ]

wildcard

( Bring your own scenario! Law can be found around the library (looking for medical texts he won't find), at any bar (not quite drinking but listening to the conversation), or maybe just skulking around corridors looking unreasonably suspicious. For reference, Law has a lot of tattoos (although he is wearing a partially-open shirt generally). )

Wildcard

[serialskiller]

[It is while Law is skulking that he encounters a small floating drone, about a centimeter in diameter, flying with a tiny propeller along the length of a hallway. The drone pauses mid-air when it notices him, and then drifts slowly closer, as if whoever's piloting it is curious.]

tartaglia | genshin impact

[vikhr]

i. the dark and the ghost (aka, around the ship)
OPTION ONE:

[ well. you could probably fault tartaglia for a lot of things (too, too many things) but you sure as couldn't accuse him of not being adaptable. even though waking up with zero recall of how he got here, being told to go to some particular location only to be accosted by some strange men and nearly getting dipped into a theatrical kiss, et cetera et cetera, tartaglia isn't breaking down into a panicked, incoherent mess like some people might have done.

in fact, he doesn't even seem particularly angry either, which is ranked the second most popular reaction in times of crisis - the smile on his face hasn't flagged at all from the moment he made his way to deck one, and even if he is clenching and unclenching his hand around the sharp prickly lei, it's mostly with some thought that he looks around at the surroundings now that they are free (haha) to go about as they please. ]

Since apparently we're all doomed - what are you gonna do?

OPTION TWO:

[ what tartaglia is going to do, obviously, is end up at a bar - maybe that wasn't entirely his intention when he set about walking along the promenade, but he figures if they are going to be here indefinitely, there was no better way to fortify himself with a shot of fire-water. or at least, that was his goal when he ended up in hurikane, but maybe the liquor in here is too fancy for his type? ]

--It's similar, [ tartaglia frowns a little in consternation, hands gesturing in the air as he illustrates to the invisible bartender who hovers with the emptied cocktail glass nearby. ] - but it's called fire-water for a reason.

[ maybe he should leave and find a whisky bar instead? ]

OPTION THREE:

[ how about some food now? he isn't super picky about what he eats, and that OPEN ALWAYS sign over windjammer is awfully tempting ... he doesn't just go for crab legs either, and there will be a small mountain of plates slowly accumulating at a table where he is sitting. by himself. just where is he putting all that food away? must be all the practice from the constant fine dining with a certain consultant - but thank god this place has proper forks and knives. ]

ii. they dance so sweet and slow (WILDCARD)

[ some chaotic set of prompts up there but that will not stop me from creating even more chaos!!! arcade? claw machines? some dangerous swimming or hot tub after drinking? ask him to lend you a hand getting that creak out of your spine (no homo)? take him to the sushi restaurant and give him chopsticks for your sadistic entertainment? let's go for it! please hit me up with any and every wild ideas you have, the cruise ship is our open oyster bar ...

FYI tartaglia will also introduce himself as 'childe' as well so please feel free to refer to him as such! i'm super excited to throw this ginger garbage into this ghost ship! if you'd like please feel free to pm me or just have a throw down! ]

i-2

[businessorlibation]

You'll find something more to your taste at Tauva, probably. Just don't pay attention to the age of the bottles.

[Johnny's into the wide variety of drinks available on the ship. Right now, he's in Hurikane with a Midori sour. Later he'll be at Tauva enjoying bourbon and a cigarette. Later still, perhaps at the pool bar with a frozen mojito. A classy-looking man in a formal suit with a white dinner jacket, he seems amused by Tartaglia's reaction to everything.]

kaeya alberich | genshin impact

[icespy]

(a; arrival)

[ Frankly, Kaeya's a little miffed that his apparent abduction into a strange realm was so...dull. No dramatic fall into an endless abyss, no frantic battle against his would-be captors, no shadowy forces dragging him through a mysterious portal - nope, he just went to sleep thinking about all the paperwork he needed to finish in the morning and bam, on the ship without so much as a struggle. Ah well, at least the letter promises a more interesting future in store.

He lets his feet lead him to the deck, peering around his surroundings with an intrigued smile and giving friendly nods to anyone who might glance back. Having watched the deranged lunatic attempt to kiss the other passengers and immediately recognizing the gleam of a Fellow Shithead, Kaeya is fully prepared when it's his turn; he throws his arms around the other man's shoulders, lets himself be dipped all the way back like a swooning maiden, and promptly returns the kiss with as loud and theatrical a smacking sound as possible.

It's. Well. It would be a lie to say it's not the worst kiss he's ever had. He doesn't exactly go around smooching corpses, okay? Still, Kaeya is nothing if not an experienced liar, so he doesn't even wipe his lips as he straightens back up and smooths down his clothes. ]

Whew! Is this the traditional greeting around these parts, or are we just lucky?

(b; congatulations)

[ Alas, Kaeya does not know what a conga line is. Kaeya, in fact, has never seen a conga line in his life. So when the long line of weirdly gyrating objects float past him, he makes the mistake of curiously reaching out for one and thereby sealing his fate.

Now, having his body controlled against his will is certainly a new experience and not one he can say he particularly cares for. But what's more embarrassing, a grown man dancing with a collection of vibrating knickknacks, or a grown man fighting some unseen force only for his protesting limbs to be shoved into some rictus parody of a dance anyway? The answer is neither, because Kaeya has long ago excised the part of himself that feels shame - but as long as he's trapped in this situation, he reasons, he might as well have fun with it. Besides, it's not like this is the worst thing he's ever danced with in a fit of drunken revelry.

So! Have what appears to be a tall well-dressed pirate happily conga-lining his way down the hall, with hip shakes and little embellishments on his kicks and arm twirls and everything - but in a classy way, of course, there are kids on board. When he spots someone, he'll wave them down with a friendly smile. ]

Hey there! I believe there's a full bottle of wine dancing about four slots ahead of me. If you would take pity on a parched man, do you mind passing it over?

[ What? Just because he's not embarrassed doesn't mean he wants to do this sober. ]

(c; bahellma)

[ There's only one area of the ship Kaeya's interested in learning about at the moment, and it's where all the alcohol is stored. He makes a beeline to the promenade, heading straight for the whiskey lounge - but then his head snaps to the side as his gaze is abruptly caught by a storefront with what must be the most garish clothing he's ever seen in his life on display, and that's coming from someone who parades around in a feathered cape.

It's awful. It's hideous. Like a moth to flame, he can't stop staring at the cacophony of colors and patterns screaming from the incredibly unflattering shirts hanging limply off the mannequins. He doesn't step foot into the store - it would take far more than a conga-line compulsion to force him into what is clearly a cursed realm - but he does drift closer to the window, studying the clothes with the sort of morbid fascination one might stare at a corpse. ]

People wear this? As in voluntarily, or is it supposed to be some kind of punishment?

(d; wildcard!)

[ Got any other ideas? I'm up for anything and everything! Kaeya can most commonly be found in bars (he'll offer to buy anyone nearby a drink, despite knowing full well no one has to pay for them) and the library (ghost stories are his favorite genre but also tawdry romance with scandalous covers), but he's a curious lad, he'll be exploring pretty much everywhere and he's always down for a good time. Hit me up with whatever! ]

[businessorlibation]

[At the offer of a drink, Johnny laughs warmly.]

Would you still be buying if you were actually paying for it? Doesn't matter, I suppose. I'll take a brandy sling, thanks.

The TARDIS | Doctor Who

[relativedimension]

Arrival.

There is an ungodly grinding, whirring, screeching noise coming from a large blue box, the surface of which is riddled with glowing cracks. Passengers may randomly come across it, as it slowly and reluctantly makes it way towards deck one.

It'll fade into existence in some corridor or other, with a grinding call of vworp vworp, then stand there for several minutes or even hours as it wheezes mechanically, the distant sound of a large bell clanging somewhere inside. Occasionally, the doors may fly open as smoke billows out, masking the blue and orange lights coming from inside.

It does not appear to respond to interaction, and any attempt to enter it will be futile, as the doors will slam shut immediately, and no amount of tugging or banging will open them.

To the extent a big blue box can appear distraught, this one definitely does.

When it finally makes it way to deck one, the doors open and spit out a life jacket that it had brought with it, somehow. It does not respond to the lei that is tossed around its top light, beyond emanating a feeling of disdain for all who stand close enough.


Arrival, part two.

The TARDIS is very upset. She had arrived here, quite without her consent, intent, nor even effort to move, while she was in the process of self-resetting. The Flux had taken its toll, and it takes a lot of effort to fix something like that.

An effort that was not helped at all by suddenly being inside a cabin on a ship, in a time and place that were most definitely wrong in a way she's still unable to wrap her matrices around. (There's a lot of things wrong about the place she finds herself in.) She scanned her surroundings and found the note she supposed was intended for her, and immediately dismissed it.

Except there is Something that is preventing her from returning to where she's supposed to be. She kept trying, attempting to find places to dematerialise, and only managing when it moved her closer in the direction of where whatever this Something wanted her to go.

She's fuming. Literally. Even after her movements became a tiny bit less restricted, she has absolutely zero interest in interacting with absolutely any of this for a long while. She materialises underwater, sinking down until she seems to hit a force field. She tries to fly straight up until the air, with the same result.

After about a week of randomly appearing places for brief periods of time, she can finally be found settled in the middle of the Promenade. The blue box appears pristine now. No alarming noises or billowing smoke. She is as calm as she can manage being, given the situation.

And while the box doesn't seem to open, nor really do much of anything, anyone walking close enough may sense their minds being gently prodded. Like an itch in their brain, right behind their forehead. Not malicious. Not threatening. Just curious.


Hawaiian Shirts Forever.

There's a short, blonde woman standing barefoot in the Infinite Tommy Bahamas, wearing an absolutely ridiculous Hawaiian shirt (meant for men) and khaki shorts. She stares at herself dispassionately in the mirror, then - without giving any indication of whether she approves or disapproves - disappears into a changing room.

The TARDIS has by no means visited every part of the ship, nor does she see any reason to do so as of yet. Most of the locations seem dull and uninteresting. And this location would probably be the same, except for the fact that it's new, and there was very clearly some space distortion happening here, though the more time passes, the fainter it seems to get, until she can no longer pick up on it.

Normally she would've picked a body she was more fond of to use as an interface, but given her current disdain and hopelessness, this one seems to suit her mood. She feels like it conveys both how trapped she feels, and how she kind of wants to burn this entire boat to cinders. Not that anyone else looking at her would actually pick up on those finer details, without knowing the context of the original body's owner. But then, she doesn't really care if they do.

She returns moments after, wearing white cropped jeans, and a denim shirt with an embroidered parrot on the back. It actually kind of looks alright? Not that she seems to think so.

Part Two

[serialskiller]

The first thing the cyborg thinks when it feels that sensation against its organic mind is that maybe Maximilien had a reason to be upset. The mental prod is like a ping sent with the wrong protocol, or a cold finger to a shoulder without warning--sudden, startling, but ultimately, it doesn't seem malicious.

It fumbles for a moment, trying to connect more properly to whatever system is contacting it--digitally, with secure channels and all.

State your intention.

Dolores Abernathy | Westworld

[backonline]

1.
She wakes up with only the vaguest sense that something is wrong. Different. But that feeling quickly passes, as it always does, as Dolores sits up and stretches with a content sigh. She does love mornings, and goes to the window in the small room to gaze out.

It's not fields, nor the skyline of a futuristic city, but endless water glittering in the sunlight. She smiles. But she never should stand about for too long pondering what lies beyond, she has a whole day ahead. Each new one offers new opportunity, people to meet.

After dressing in her signature cornflower blue, Dolores delicately picks up the letter, reads the words, and yet... somehow doesn't fully grasp the meaning. Her programming filters out those sorts of unpleasant truths about the nature of the world. A captain? How prestigious. What she does grasp is the compulsion to attend the muster drill, doesn't even particularly notice that it's not of her own free will. That'd be a silly thing for an android to have, wouldn't it?

The men performing it are strange, quite unlike anything she's ever seen, and yet she smiles politely and accepts the lei. Though she does protest the whole dip and kiss attempt. Her heart is already spoken for, if only he'd return. Longing sigh toward the horizon.

"My father will be quite worried, if I don't return to the farm by dusk..." Dolores speaks to whoever is near, a prompt she's spoken hundreds of times before.

3.
It's the aroma of sweet citrus that draws Dolores in, honestly. The old west is full of all sorts of unpleasant smells. It reminds her at first a bit of passing by the saloon where the working ladies try to cover up with heavily scented perfumes, but without the underlying notes of sex and sweat and alcohol. She sniffs again curiously, maybe that is alcohol.

She's never seen such a variety of clothing in her life, and she inspects some of the patterned shirts on display by the entrance with a quiet sort of fascination. "Everything is so colorful," Dolores comments, fabric between her fingers. "They must be imported, how exotic."

?. (wildcard. catch Dolores at the piano playing out some strange rendition of Black Hole Sun or strolling along the promenade looking quite lost... where's all the bar fights?)

1!

[selenokinesis]

Oh, he hates to be the bearer of bad news (like... kind of), but he overhears that and he can't help but think to himself that he's going to have to break the bad news. Better him than his overly-affectionate companion, honestly. So he approaches, all proper and poised, and puts on a polite but sympathetic face.

"I'm afraid that there isn't a way to return, as far as I and other passengers are aware. I'm terribly sorry to have to inform you of this."

Maeve Millay | Westworld

[millay]

1. Arrival
The scenery is different, something that she's gone through multiple times before, but this time, she'd thought it was over. Dolores had destroyed herself to save the world and they were meant to be free. Only here she was, having found herself in another cage. There was a mixture of frustration, resignation to a familiar setting, and exhaustion. Was she ever going to be done with this? Would she ever finally get to rest?

The outlook was not great.

She had attempted to go a different way, to fight the system, but she could not, so she went with it in an attempt to gain more information. Until the time was right, she would keep what she was to herself. She was uncertain that it was something she could do if this Captain was like the people that worked and ran Delos. If this was another Westworld, another world made by men that thought they had the right to make her a pawn in another game. Humans would always be distasteful in that manner. There were good ones here and there, but otherwise, they were a wash.

She moves closer, paying attention to the drill and everything else going on around her as casually as she can. She accepts the lei, but gives a less than subtle "Fuck off" to the attempt to dip her into a kiss. Hector may be dead, but she was not just going to let someone who smelled like that kiss her. She steps back more than a few steps to get out of arm's length once she has the ability to. "And how often can I expect the absolute joy of not having control of my own body? I'd like to be mentally prepared."

2.Conga hell
Maeve has never seen lamps or any other inanimate (or animated, if she's being honest) thing float in the air to what appears to be music. In fact, she's never heard this kind of music. She doesn't realize the dance, but that is only because she has never been exposed to it before.

She is decided not to dance, but the choice, like many before this, is taken from her as she feels the unpleasant sensation in her feet, like they've fallen asleep. She feels the frustration and annoyance build up in her as she's drawn into the line. At least whatever controls them seems to make her dance without tripping over her own feet. All she hopes is there is a way to escape this.

3. A Tommy Bahama Nightmare

Complaining about a lack of variety in clothes is mostly something that Maeve has kept to private moments because she's used to other people choosing her outfits and the eventuality that she may receive something new. At this point she's just glad to be out on her own for a moment, caged as she is.

The scent of citrus in the air is sweet and she finds herself intrigued. For a minute she hopes that she might be able to find a little alcohol to make the situation more bearable, but instead, she simply finds a collection of clothes that are absolutely not what she was looking for. Sighing, she starts browsing anyway, out of boredom. "I wonder what world these hideous outfits would make sense in," she says more to herself than anyone else. Boat world, she assumes. Why couldn't she just find fruity drinks and a place to ignore everything around her?

4. Wildcard
(I'm good with anything? Perhaps Maeve is attempting to befriend a piece of technology somewhere or access it with probably little success? Just ambling around the ship? Androids spotting other androids in the wild? Whatever pops into your brain probably works. Sorry if I'm terrible, I'm trying ;-;)

1

[creepyoldguy]

"Okay, okay, okay. Loud and clear, babes." He gave her a cheerful grin, respecting the new space she put between them.

It was as close to an apology as she would get from him.

marissa cooper | the oc.

[tijuana]

i. you're the only one you owe

If I die, I'll come back to life eventually?

[ what kind of backwards cruise was this??? she'd assumed that maybe she'd just blocked out the past couple of days. that somehow, to get her away from newport and the added trauma of recent events, that he mother had somehow talked summer's dad into booking them on a cruise. or that he dad had come back in spite of her telling him to stay away to whisk her off to some place safe. somewhere that didn't know her. away from all the memories, all the loss.

but that doesn't appear to be the case.

crumpling the paper in hand, marissa grabs the life jacket, slinging it over one shoulder, and heads for deck one. she's got her arms folded over her chest in open petulance throughout the drill, rolling her eyes dramatically at the duo she wrongly presumes are cosplayers and this is some wacky comic con themed cruise that would make seth's wildest dreams come true. ]

Are we done here? This isn't my first cruise, you know.

ii. one by one they'll do you in

[ she's trapped in a conga line. a freakin' conga line. marissa always organized ridiculous things like this when she was harbor's social chair. listing events that she would never participate in herself because it was the thing to do; it appeased the teachers that oversaw the social committee and gave incoming freshman and those looking to just let loose and be silly something fun to do.

she never participated in them herself. maybe that's why she's trapped now.

but she's tired and her legs ache, and she doesn't want to conga anymore. so she reaches out to grab the arm of the first person the line passes by in hopes they can help free her from this neverending dance trap. ]

iii. the price of vice foretold

You're kidding me, right? Is this really all they have here?

[ marissa holds up a brightly colored men's tommy bahama shirt that's about three sizes too big for her. ]

I can't wear this. Where's the women's section?

3 (oh my god??? I love this??)

[baubled]

Of course you can! [ Effie's evidence of that, having gone full Project Runway on Tommy Bahama's finest. she is currently wearing a mens big & tall polo as a dress, the collar popped up. a second polo shirt has been sacrificed to make it's collar into a belt. the polo is pink, as are her sunglasses and the scarf tied around her head. when her arms move she jingles with the sounds of many, many nautical bracelets. it is a lot to take in.

and then, an idea: ] But! There is this little off the shoulder sundress you'd look darling in. I could show you?

[ does Effie work here? no. has Effie spent more than a normal amount of time inside the infinite Tommy Bahama? yes. ]

alex chen » life is strange: true colors

[colorwheels]

» you're the only one you owe

[ More alarming than waking up on some foreign ship is the blank in Alex's memory before that. She remembers...Pike, and the station. The affidavit she'd refused to sign, another attempt by Typhon to wash away all responsibility for Gabe's death. A folder, full of pictures of her and Ryan and Steph; a threat. Taking his fear, desperate to push him in the right direction. Then she'd gone back to the Black Lantern, hadn't she? And something important had happened. Something with Jed...?

But thinking of it now makes her head ache and throb. So she turns to the note instead, confusion only growing as she reads it over once, twice, three times. It's like the start of a weird indie game, she can't help but think, placing it back down.

With nothing else to do, she follows as directed, glancing cautiously out into the hallway before making her way to the deck.

Despite the way she's visibly trying to keep to herself and get her bearings, Alex stands out anyway when she nearly decks Beetlejuice as he goes in for a kiss (sorry Beetlejuice). Foster kid instincts and all that. But, guarded or not, she obediently goes through the motions of the drill anyway. If anyone needs help with a life vest, she'll get it on and secured for them. She's quiet but, almost punching someone aside, doesn't seem to be actually stand-offish or rude.

But when free, despite the situation, she's immediately off to peer over the deck at the expanse of water. Weird situation or not, it's her first time on any sort of boat, nonetheless a freaking cruise ship. And for just a moment, hair drifting in the sea breeze and eyes closed, she seems calm, if only for the moment. ]

» one by one they'll do you in

[ The floating stuff is going to take some getting used to. She thinks as she dodges the floating objects, staring back at them in complete bewilderment. ]

If they start singing 'Be Our Guest', I'm out.

[ It's half to herself and half to whoever is standing closest to her.

Still, it's impossible not to get pulled in despite her wishes, and eventually, Alex can be found in the conga line, looking particularly weirded out, unable to escape. Get close and she'll start waving you away. ]

Unless you want to start a musical number, stay over there!

[ Someone help her, she's starting to look tired. Or grab her hand and join in? ]

» the price of vice foretold

[ But out of it all, it's the clothes that finally get the strongest reaction out of the quiet girl. She holds up one of the Hawaiian print shirts with a laugh before holding it in front of her as if to test it out. ]

They want us to dress like drunk frat boys?

[ Pulling it away she looks at the shirt again, than at her own, before holding it out to whoever else is looking. ]

Wanna give it a try? I think I'm good.

[ DJing cat sweater > Frat boy shirts. ]

» wildcard

[ wildcard however you want! alex is a new muse, so i'm down for anything and everything if none of the above works for you! she'll easily be found anywhere she can listen to/play some music and looking around for anyone she knows, writing in her journal in the library, etc. she's quiet and introverted at first, but actually pretty friendly, so she'll talk to anyone who approaches her.

a head's up that Alex has empathetic abilities that allow her to hear thoughts of people she is in close proximity to, as well as see a colored aura indicating their emotional state if they are feeling strongly. i'm still working on how to handle this in an RP, so unless it comes up, she'll be avoiding doing so for the moment. ]

Wildcard - Feel free to pick up on as much or little of the inner dialogue as you want

[treadwater]

[Undine was aware that there were still new people showing up on the ship, but she still somehow was surprised to see an unfamiliar teenager in the library. Look, look, there's a lot of adults puttering around and doing adult things, but not so many people her age to make friends with (even though she's conflicted for being happy to see someone new, because, like...this place sucks, and no one should be here).

Right. Anyway, she doesn't want to startle Alex, so she hums as she approaches, heading to a nearby shelf instead of immediately accosting and probably scaring the new girl. It seems more polite that way.]

Rich Goranski | Be More Chill (potentially CRAU? don't mind me)

[firewalled]

[Passenger Quarters] Nobody move, this is perfect: it's just like you

[With the way new passengers are corralled towards their muster point, it's likely a little surprising that anyone could manage to be this late to the safety drill. But Rich Goranski is 1. one of the dumbest kids this side of Jersey, 2. very talented at tripping headfirst into exactly the wrong way to do things, and 3. more stubborn than a Japanese supercomputer programmed into patching errors of its own creation like some cyberpunk ouroboros.

So when he steps outside his room, and happens to turn the wrong way... and when that causes his legs to lock up beneath him, no matter how much he strains... well. Turning back would be admitting defeat. Turning back would mean listening to orders. Turning back would mean giving up free will.

And after the last time he lost free will, he's willing to kill himself all over again to keep his independence.

So. There is a short, stocky kid in camo pants standing right in the middle of the hallway, scarred arms folded over his chest, playing chicken with the unseen forces that compel him to the muster point. He even glares out at nothing in particular while he waits for the movement in his legs to return.

If other passengers try to move past him, his glare is directed at them, though a little softer, and he mutters in as threatening a tone as he can manage with his thick lisp:]

If you're heading to the decks, tell the Moan Master or whatever that I'm not playing his fucking games.

[Deck One] Such a lovely place, such a lovely face

[Who knows how long the rest of the new arrivals were kept waiting, but eventually, there's a very pissed-off punk joining the crowd of people. He's not very cooperative with the whole shebang, especially not when it comes to flirtatious advances from some weird half-dead dude. He wrangles himself out of smooches with what's hopefully a well-timed kick to the nether regions of the netherworld dweller, and then he dusts himself off.]

Ugh! God, dude! When I said I was bicurious, it wasn't code for "by the way, I'd totally bone a skeleton."

[He then turns to whoever is nearby, giving a sort of exhausted grin.]

Sorry. But after the second time getting sent to Bizarro Purgatory, you get over this shit real quick.

[Tommy Bahama] Write to me and escape

[Okay. A clothing store. That's... somewhat normal. Rich has been pretty frazzled this whole time, but a clothing store is totally doable. There's nothing here to steal his autonomy or a kiss. Nothing to even scare him unless clashing colours could cause anxiety attacks for him (considering his own outfit choices... probably not).

In fact, he's actually liking some of the shirts, and he's slung one or two button downs over an arm and perched a pair of sunglasses over his bright red streak in his hair before turning to find the cash register... and noting he has no idea where that is. Or where the exit is, for that matter.

He slaps both hands over his face, groaning.]

Every goddamn time, Goranski. Every goddamn time there's a mess to get into, you find it!

Nobody move, this is perfect: it's just like you

[saltwaterlungs]

[ A girl a bit younger than him trots past at a leisurely pace, with a gym towel over her shoulders and damp hair. She catches his lisped demand, and leans against the hallway wall, a look of some amusement. ]

Sick dig, but you're not going anywhere until you head up to the muster. It's magic bullshit, ehn? Nobody's found a way out of it. You can stay here as long as you want, but I'm not kicking your corpse down to the morgue when you starve to death.

Ashley Brown | Until Dawn

[cowardley]

I. arrival (anywhere on deck)

[ Ashley has always wanted to go on a cruise. The people she follows on Instagram, celebrities, and influencers, always made them seem like they'd be a real adventure; the safe kind of adventure. She could kick up on the deck in a cute bikini and a good book and lots of sunscreen (she's not interested in burning, thank you very much) and just enjoy the fresh sea air and sun.

But this is not the kind of cruise she's dreamed of.

In fact, it was very much like a nightmare she'd had once brought on by a horror movie Josh had made the group watch. A haunted, abandoned ship out in the middle of the ocean. That's what this is, isn't it? A haunted ship, except it's not abandoned and she's trapped here. She groans loudly as she fiddles with her lifevest, clearly trying her best not to cry. ]

And there's no way to call my parents? Or my friends? I'm really stuck here? [ The reality of this place hasn't quite set in yet. Please be patient with her. ]

II. haunted conga line

[ The first item Ash spots floating down the hall makes her squeeze her eyes shut like a child waking from an awful nightmare, head shaking in denial. ] I'm seeing things. This isn't real. This can't be real. [ Ashley is good at falling into denial when she needs to but when a lamp bumps into her, she lets out a scream and jumps backward, pressing herself against the hall wall, open palms trying to grip at wallpaper. ]

Oh my gosh! Ghosts aren't supposed to be real! [ They weren't supposed to be real even though she did believe in them just a little bit. ]

III. that endless tommy bahama

[ Ashley could use a new pair of clothes. Currently, she stands at a table covered with neatly folded shirts in a variety of bright, summer colors. She picks up a shirt in a pale pink and unfolds it but doesn't dare bring it up to her chest to check to see if it'd look good, not when the hoodie she still wears is soaked in old blood (her shorts, her leggings, the little beanie on her head, all soaked in old, stinking pig blood).

She turns to anyone else in the room. Her eyes are a little red from crying earlier but she's trying her best to be normal. As normal as one can be in a situation that was the furthest thing from it. ]

Do you... think this is my color? [ She's trying to be conversational, trying to ignore the well of panic in her chest that she hasn't gotten all out yet. It still feels like she's dreaming. ]

iii. tommy for eternity

[broshaw]

[Sharky has been in and out of the Tommy Bahama a lot since showing up on the mystery cruise ship some... however long ago that was. Having an entire wardrobe built out of the finest casual vacation wear for is pretty much a dream come true. The only thing that would make it better is, like, if he had his cousin here, or at least his kid. He wouldn't be low-key worrying about it all the time if he could just see the little rug-rat.

Obviously, his good mood carries over when he's asked about the look -- and then, uh, holy shit, is that her blood?]

Uhhh -- I'm not a good judge of color but, y-yeah, I think it's... good. That... that isn't your blood, is it? [He's asks very much in a tone like: kid, are you alright?]

madi griffin | the 100

[strikon]

1.0 ▶ YOU'RE THE ONLY ONE YOU OWE.

[being on a ship was definitely a first for madi but it was more alarming waking up to find herself completely alone while not recalling how she got here. the note really isn't much help because of how nonsensical it is and if anyone thought she was going to pay attention it? they would absolutely wrong because not long after reading it over and abiding by some of the instruction on it so that she can exit, she bolts right out the door.

she doesn't really know where she was headed but the one thing she was sure about was that she couldn't be here. there is a mix of panic and uncertainty that overwhelms her as she starts to explore her new surroundings, something she would be completely fascinated by if any of this was normal but between all the questions racing through her mind, the most important thing for her right now was to find clarke. if anyone would know what to do and what they were dealing with here then it would be her just like always though finding her was another story.

a. for all her attempts to go in any other direction than deck one, she finds herself in the same dilemma of not being able to move and she is visibly frustrated because she has people to find and this is very rude] Are you kidding me? I don't have time for this.

b. eventually despite her own stubbornness, she does relent so that she isn't wasting any more time in finding clarke but she is entirely unimpressed with the entire performance and welcome spiel but once it is said and done leaving her free to roam the ship, she approaches people with caution still feeling on edge with this whole situation] Do you know anyone named Clarke Griffin? I need to find her— it's important.

2.0 ▶ ONE BY ONE THEY'LL DO YOU IN.

[if things weren't bizarre enough already, the floating inanimate objects definitely takes the cake on that one especially when they start forming a line dancing. she can't help but look towards the scene completely bewildered.

she had never danced before and though she had every intention of moving on her way to continue her search for clarke, she finds herself being pulled in and compelled to join in which is the exact opposite of what she wants to do. it feels like hours on end that she is looping through the motions of dancing, growing tired with each passing second and for something that should be fun it feels like a chore at this point that she wants to escape from with how her body is being controlled against her will. she reaches out to just about anyone nearby] Hey— wait. A little help here?

3.0 ▶ THE PRICE OF THE VICE FORETOLD.

[the clothing store was new, though really the same can be said for a majority of what she has come across on the ship in her ventures exploring and trying to search for clarke. she is just staring from the outskirts of the store itself, looking in through the windows] This is so weird. [she still looks in slight awe though because the thing with being from a post apocalyptic world means most of the everyday things like this that people are used to is a lot to adjust to]

4.0 ▶ WILDCARD.

[hit me with whatever else you want! madi will be around and all over the place trying to search for clarke. i'm still voicetesting but i'm leaning on pulling her from early-ish season 5 though i am mostly keeping it vague for now until i make actual decisions]

1b

[touchofcashmere]

[Stede is reading on a deck chair, dressed down a bit-- or at least without the frock coat. The question... makes him pause. He was completely unprepared for it for one and from a stranger.

As for Clarke... He hasn't really set eyes on her since--

Well best not thought of that]

Er... yes, actually. I know her. She's er... part of my crew.

Are you friends?

diluc ragnvindr | genshin impact

[anbruch]

eins.

[ he shouldn't have to say that he had something better to do with the evening, but apparently he hadn't made it clear. no matter the amount of intelligence he had been handed and no matter the way he'd laid out his clothes for the evening, evidently whatever "forces" "persuaded" him here used the merry opportunity of an eye blink. not that he openly complains about it or looks at all perturbed. no, much unlike many of his now peculiar companions in this venture, he looks almost - tired? or maybe it's just the eyebags. either way, the rather stern set of his expression doesn't seem to change even as their hosts introduce themselves and make their (questionably) grand greetings. instead, it only seems to further cement the exhaustion that clings along the young lines of his face. he's clearly been this inconvenienced before. or, maybe, this isn't the most distressing thing he's seen this week.

when it's his turn to be joyously welcomed by their lively, undead hosts (can't say he's seen that too often), he doesn't go into the whole dip and kiss. instead, he holds out his hand. ]

No, [ he says, though with the polite (if firm) inflection of someone who is bound to continue. ] Thank you. I'd prefer we shake hands instead.

[ which he does, actually. without any complaint of it. the warm leather of his gloves squeaks as he lifts his hand to do so, tightens his grip. once he's out of line, though, he's taking a minute to rub his glove discreetly against his dark coat. and another, to turn to the person who steps out of line behind him. if they've gotten themselves kissed, he tucks his hand into his coat pocket to pull out a (very neatly folded) handkerchief. ]

Here. [ he holds the square out to them. ] Use this.

zwei.

[ once diluc has gotten himself acquainted with the general scope of the ship, he takes the opportunity to walk the promenade to get a measure of the distance one can feasibly see from the deck. it doesn't tell him much, much to his misfortune, but diluc isn't one to sit around idly in unexpected environs. even if, all things considered, this is far from the worst locale he's found himself trapped in.

maybe someone comes across him making littles notes to himself along the starboard side of the walk. or maybe they spot him folding his dark coat over his arm, the gem-like pendant at his hip pulsing lazily with each roll of the ship. either way, though, they'll always end up catching him making space for the conga line of curios that make their way across the ship. it seems to have saved him thus far from joining, but who knows how long that'll last.

he might take a second to scan the selection of objects, but he otherwise doesn't seem bothered by it. instead, he's bringing a hand to his chin in thought. ]

All things considered, it's a novel way to discard waste.

[ is it really? ]

drei.

[ eventually, diluc does get hungry. and, eventually, he does have to inspect the food for any sort of potential additives. he doesn't suspect it would have anything in it that would kill them, but it never harms to extend some caution. and so, once diluc does peruse the selection, he ends up with a grand number of fried items on his plate. like, a grand number. it shouldn't even make logical sense that a guy of his size and stature should require that much food, but maybe someone will find him later still partaking of it at one of the bars.

with, uh, some kind of virgin juice blend? weird choice.

anyway, if someone settles themselves down beside him, he'll just finish chewing on what looks to be a fried piece of something before speaking. it isn't polite or mannerly to speak with one's mouth full, after all. ]

If you're looking for a quality vintage, you won't find it here.

[ at least he's helpful, even if he doesn't seem to have any sampling glasses nearby him. maybe he just knows? ]

vier.

[ ooc: FEEL FREE TO WILDCARD ME. diluc can be found most usually anywhere at this point, as he's currently trying to collect some intel on the down low and is constantly known for keeping himself busy. he works way too much. if you have any ideas or want to dm me, feel free to hmu! ]

eins.

[gapmoe]

[ diluc might've heard the shrill, startled shriek coming from just behind him in the line, courtesy of a man who clearly wasn't paying enough attention to those in front of him... which would be ingo. who was dreadfully unprepared to dodge that dip and kiss treatment, leaving him to feel so mortified that he doesn't even have the mental room to spare for embarrassment.

that's why it takes ingo a moment to longer than usual process what's being offered, pre-occupied with wiping at his lips as he is. once he does, however, he gratefully takes the handkerchief, looking more than a little green around the gills, or so to speak.

but for some reason, despite his tone sounding nothing but thankful, there isn't even a hint of a smile on his face. ]

Thank you, kind sir. [ his hero... ] I shall have this returned to you, washed, posthaste.

layla abdallah el-faouly | moon knight

[taueret]

one by one they’ll do you in

[ Cautious curiosity had brought Layla closer to the conga line of suddenly-animate-formerly-inanimate objects. A viscerally disgusting compulsion to join them is what kept her there. She was frantic at first, trying to force her way out, but it was no use — her limbs were not her own, no matter how she fought them.

It goes on for such a very long time. It’s a big boat, after all. She doesn’t see another soul for what feels like hours — honestly, it may as well have been that long. She’s exhausted now, her wobbly legs compelled by the sheer force of whatever this is possessing her alone, and she wonders if she’s stumbled into some perverse metaphor for Avatars. Dancing, dancing, puppeted by an unseen force, no escape no matter how she fights.

The thought makes her even angrier, but she knows there’s no point since there’s nothing she can do, and that makes her angrier too.

By the time a Good Samaritan comes along and drags her from this hell, she’s fully ready to hunt down the mysterious captain and murder him herself. ]

Move! [ she growls at her savior from between clenched teeth, shoving at them with jelly arms. Her words would be viper venom had she just a little more energy to spat them with. ] We have to go before it gets us again. Now!

the price of vice foretold

[ The clothes are terrible — there’s no question about that — but Layla isn’t here for shopping.

She paces the store, staring at the racks and racks of colorful shirts, a look of quiet determination darkening her face. She’s having thoughts. Many of them involve uh. Vandalism. To put it nicely.

Eventually, she turns towards her companion, aka the only other person she’s encountered in this hellhole of a shop. ]

Do you think there are ways of getting the captain’s attention?

[ a beat.]

...And you wouldn’t happen to have a lighter, would you?

the price of vice foretold

[decohere]

What Ava happens to hate more than shopping is doing laundry. And while quick disposable fashion feels like a contribution to the worst parts of capitalism back home, well... there's no landfill here to bemoan. Maybe. Maybe eventually they will be overrun with the excess of their wasteful usage of mysteriously appearing resources. Maybe they'll just start tossing things into the fishless ocean.

Maybe maybe maybe...

Ava's staring at a pair of white linen pants to replace the ones she's stained because she's too stubborn to wear black, when somebody speaks. At her. The nerve. Except it's not the usual fashion question of whether or not the color suits her complexion, or will flatter her shape, the sort of thing Ava knows fuckall about. But about the captain. Which she also knows fuckall about. Ava snorts.

"I do everything possible to avoid it. So," Ava flips through the sizes, no idea which number is meant to correlate to her own. But at least it has a stretchy waistband.

"There's a cigar lounge you could probably steal one from."

Marc Spector | Moon Knight/MCU

[justneedsomehelp]

i. you're the only one you owe;

[From one ship to another, and this one isn't any less bizarre than the one with the talking hippo and an asylum full of bad memories. He jars awake, probably like so many others. Sure, it's a soft bed. Sure, there's sunlight. But the note he's left leaves his skin crawling and half wondering if he's somehow cracked even more and this is all just another dying dream on the way to the world beyond.

A quick brush over his chest and no bullet wounds. Just the whole eerie if you die, you'll come back eventually shit he doesn't remember signing up for. Not with anyone besides Khonshu anyway.]

Steven? Hey, you there, buddy?

[He's not sure what's worse, the unsettling silence he's left with and the certainty he's... actually alone in his head or how, when he finally ventures from the room, his legs lock up every time he's not on the right path to deck one. Or the lei or the asshole who tries to kiss him.

Maybe this really is all in his head and he's on the real good drugs. He'd like to come down now, if that's the case. At least he's able to move after their dumb drill is over with.]

Uh-- [He turns towards whoever is closest to him.]

This all just happened, right?

[He's pretty sure it did.]

ii. the price of vice foretold;

[He needs to ditch the garb that makes him look like he just stumbled out of a nut house, that's for sure. But... not like this. Surely there have to be better options than this. He scowls when he picks up a shirt... if it can even be called that.]

Is this for real? Do they expect anyone to actually wear this shit?

[Actually, you know what, he's fine with what he's wearing.]

iii. wildcard;

[Have something else you'd like to do? Drop a prompt here or hit me up and we'll do it!]

ii.

[gapmoe]

[ similarly, ingo can't say he's particularly thrilled with the selection. but he still comes carrying a small stack of sunglasses when he pauses in response to the sudden question reaching his ears. ]

I would imagine the continued existence of this brand is indicative of the fact that there is enough interest to make a profit, sir!

[ obviously, this gentleman was asking a question that he wanted a real answer to. good thing he was here to provide it! why does his enthusiastic tone clash so hard with his stern expression ]

ingo | monster de poquette

[gapmoe]

trauma conga line

[ one upside is that ingo is more than accustomed enough to ghost-type and psychic-type pokémon, hence why objects floating around seemingly of their own volition is, in and of itself, not a particularly startling sight. the only problem... is that there are no pokémon on board. but his mind has yet to pass by that station, so he remains firmly attached to the tracks for now, almost seeming unflappable in how he steps aside and makes room for the ever growing conga train well in advance whenever it passes by.

how nice it is that people can have some fun by playing with the resident ghost-types, even in such dire circumstances. maybe this could be a group of haunter or gengar...?

... thinking about this is making him miss chandelure even more than he already does, if he allows himself a little selfishness. it's probably for the best that she isn't here, however. You’re all doomed still rings loud and clear in his mind, more than enough to make a freezing dread (like an ice punch to the heart) settle in his system.

truthfully, ingo is only paying half-attention to his surroundings on account of the mounting stress and discomfort. he has taken off one of his gloves to keep his bare hand touching one of those miniature light poles illuminating the promenade, shifting his loose grip up or down whenever his body heat warms it too much. perhaps that's where you happen to spot him. he is, after all, very (very) tall, and sports an... interesting stare.

or perhaps not. perhaps you are the very exhausted participant at the tail end of the conga line which catches his attention. at first, it may not look as if he intends to do anything, but as soon as he's put his glove back on, he comes jogging to catch up with you. ]

Excuse me! [ he might be louder than you expected. a lot. but maybe this is it? salvation from the dance of death? maybe he's going to pull you away from the nightmare train?

of course not. it would be impolite to just grab someone. and ingo is polite, so he's keeping a respectful distance. ] I don't mean to interrupt, but perhaps it would be a good idea to take a break? I am more than certain that this activity will still be available later!

[ aren't you just so stoked that this is the guy who noticed your plight? if nothing else... this might at least mean that another person is about to join in the suffering. ]

hell smells like coconuts

[ unfortunately for ingo, he did not arrive here with any clothing other than his uniform. and for as comfortable as said uniform is, he can't wear this day in and day out, lest he risks smelling worse than a hoard of muk. which means the new clothing store could not have opened at a better time!

if only the clothes on offer were less... well, everything. so far, all ingo has found is a bunch of (thankfully normal) sunglasses. which could, of course, come in handy on a cruise ship.

still, though. this is not a good store for someone who wears mostly monochrome, and he looks less than pleased as he tries sorting through the clothing racks, heading deeper inside... wait a second. didn't he just see this exact garish shirt on exactly the same mannequin earlier?

this is getting unsettling. and that's making the fear and panic from before come creeping again with a vengance. which is why he's going to make a very conscious effort to move in reverse along the tracks towards the exit before finding a mirror. maybe you, too, are getting lost in this fruit-scented hell. maybe there's a collision? ingo is a bit spacey; it's pretty feasible that he might walk into some poor unsuspecting soul.

if you join in the fun a little after he makes that decision, you'll be greeted to a guy who looks nothing short of pissed standing in front of a mirror and trying on the least eye-searing shades he could find. contrary to that expression though, he seems to be hemming and hawing to himself, occasionally mumbling a "yes" or a more resigned "no..." ]

wildcard

[ bring your own scenario! you can find more info on this funny train man than you'll ever need in his journal. you're 100% welcome to shoot me a pm, message me on discord at battour#6566, or hit me up on plurk at battour if you have any ideas or questions. ]

hellconut, because dimos is just assaulting everyone in the tommy bahama apparently

[prayererror]

[The solution to wearing clothing over and over again without spares is to simply not sweat or shed skin cells, of course. That's how Dimos manages it!

...He may or may not be cheating, by virtue of being a clockwork man, but. Hm. Anyway, he's not wandered his way into this fresh hell for himself, given that his clothing is completely secondary, perhaps even tertiary for him. It's just that he knows this human back home, and finding new clothing, fresh material in general, is...It's a rarity.

Dimos is hoarding clothing, in short. He's got three straw hats on his head, on top of his tattered cowboy hat nonetheless, and there's an arrangement of muted polo shirts draped over one arm. He has not, however, discovered sunglasses yet. Not until he spies Ingo trying them on and mumbling to himself. Something pings in the clockwork database, something about protection from the sun (which pale, sickly humans require), and he comes on over looking a right disaster.]

You are testing for the best pair of-- eyewear. Are they effective, in shading one's eyes from sand and sun? Is this what you are testing for, or are there other purposes?

[Just two guys with equally interesting stares in the Infinite Tommy Bahama, no big deal.]

[starfleetcleaner]

i. You're the only one you owe

Tendi looked around almost frantically after she got feeling back in her legs, then seemed to collect herself. She was..on a ship? Not the Cerritos, but an actual ship on the ocean. She could see the sea in front of her, could smell the salt, even if there were no landmasses in her current frame of reference. Well, first step, in a new unknown weird environment. 

"Computer, Holodeck stop." 

After a moment, she looked up at the sky and repeated herself louder. When no responce was forthcoming, she let out a sigh and started muttering to herself, pulling out a small device which began to beep at her. 

"Oh come on! I will take you apart and fix whatever is wrong with you, I've done it before!" She looks up at this, trying to spot anything that looks familar. "Don't suppose anyone here knows what's going on? Is this a holodeck error, some kind of psychic space whale, what?"


iii. Tommy Bahama

The store was...odd. Colorful would be the first word, with racks of clothing, some unmanned checkout stations up front, and seemingly going back a..strange distance. Tendi walked in, looking over the racks of loud clothing. 

"Huh. This is...interesting clothing. I think I've seen people wearing them on the holodeck, in the beach simulations. They're kinda nice! Very colorful, and kinda comfortable." 

Tendi picks up a shirt in rather garish blue, holding it up. "Hmm...Always hard to find a good color that goes with my skin."

i.

[gapmoe]

Well, now. Gear Station may see many visitors on a daily basis, though this is the first time Ingo has ever met someone quite so colorful. Besides, he is glad for this excuse to strike up a conversation and perhaps get away from the mounting dread, the anxiety of not having Emmet by his side.

He offers her a greeting in the form of tipping his cap by its bring, trying his best to fix her with a friendly expression. The last part doesn't work, so it's a good thing that at least his tone of voice sounds very friendly. If louder than what most would consider to be normal.

"I'm afraid that this situation appears to be exactly what it looks like, miss."

luna chen | oc

[noghost]

[ full disclosure my plate is full rp-wise so feel free to not prioritize me but also, conceptually, i love this game so I just want to percolate on possibilities tyia ]

1. you're the only one you owe
[ please understand: there is a difference between "bewilderment" and "dead inside" and in some faces they can be confused, as emotions; if one is good at reading others, though, this woman in her mid-thirties is certainly the latter.

she looks down at the lei. she looks up, and then around, and just says, in a very crisp british accent: ]

Oh, motherfucker, not this again.

2. one by one they'll do you in
[ Think fast. This woman is in fact taking one of the dancing objects and chucking it at you to get your attention. ]

Quick! Pull me out of here!

3. the price of vice foretold
[ Well, okay. She's been here for a while, but truly, has it really been that long if eventually she might find her way out of here into—someplace. Literally someplace else that is not this purgatory cruise ship.

Even faerie would be fine at this point because technically they owe her one? She thinks. Probably. Maybe. It has been long enough that she's started to talk to herself, though, which should maybe worry her. ]

There's got to be something making this... work. Right? Even if it's magical there's got to be some logic to it.

2.

[gapmoe]

[ to say that ingo is startled to have an empty vodka bottle chucked at him. even though he tries to catch it, after that undignified yelp, he's not successful. good job.

that is a broken bottle.

at least he's quick to nod at her as soon as the request processes. ]

U-understood!

[ it feels a bit rude to pull on a stranger, but he manages to pull her out of the line, by the collar of her clothing— which is why he's careful to keep his free hand at the ready, in case the yank throws her off balance. ]

Nina+Alexander | Fullmetal Alchemist: Brotherhood | 4th Walling ALLOWED

[a_good_doghter]

Arrival.

They can't read, but they did manage to open the note in a panic as they searched around for their father in the room. Father had been hurt. Father isn't here.

Their pawhands are just dexterous enough to get the door open. For some reason, they are made to go in one direction. It's scary. They're not supposed to talk to strangers.

So when the weird man that smells bad-good puts lei on them and tries to do something else, Alexander snarls automatically. That's a no.

Nina tries to understand all the big words being said in the announcement. Quiet like a good girl. The air smells like salt, and the white things on their new necklace smell like things in her father's lab.

People are leaving. There's not one recognizable face or scent. Scared, lost, and confused, they start to howl pitifully.


Infinite Tommy Bahama.

They've been wandering. They're even most lost before. Everything looks the same. It's bigger than their house.

When you're lost, you ask for help. You can talk to strangers then.

The creature approaches a stranger, whining pitifully between sobs, head down, slinking low. "I can't find Father! I can't find Father!"


Windjammer.

Alexander caught the scent of food. It smells good. In walks the creature, immediately going towards the sweets. But she's not supposed to eat the dessert until after dinner. But he's not supposed to eat human food. The creature, confused, slinks away towards what also smells good: meat.

Hungry, they get onto their hind legs and sniff at the meat, flexing their front toe-fingers as they rest on the buffet. They're tall enough to reach, now. But Father always made her a plate. Nina doesn't know how to do it. You don't eat off the food everyone shares.

She doesn't know what to do, stomach growling, and they whine before they start to cry. "I'm hungry! I'm hungry...!"

Windjammer

[lightconductor]

"Good Christ."

That exclamation bursts out of him as he comes into the buffet. He just wanted a quick sandwich or something, but there's a monstrous dog thing. Bizarrely, he has some personal experience with monstrous dog things, though not like this. Not at all.

Automatically, Watson goes for his gun.

Bugsy King | Changeling: The Lost OC | OTA

[push_that_pesticide]

Now I'm a refugee from a disconcerted affair

As Bugsy King awoke one morning from uneasy dreams he found himself transformed in his bed into a gigantic insect.

Now this bedbug knew he was in the wrong place when the sheets hadn’t left him a rash and he didn’t have a cramp in his aching neck from sleeping in the back of his car. No Ms Mojo, no ideas, just his bag, a banjo, and a piece of paper by someone who he can only assume is a new Winter recruit handing out documents. He’s gotta teach ‘em a lesson in subtlety at some point.
Bugsy heads on up to the drill, reciprocating the kiss from the crusty ghost fucker with too much tongue and teeth for anyone, including hopefully Beetlejuice, to be comfortable with.
To mundane passengers, you see a tall, lanky punk; every inch is covered in tattoos of insects, he wears clothes that seem to be more patches than clothing by weight, with bands you’ve never heard of, even if you’re from the same kind of earth as him. He’s got dyed red hair in a mohawk and unsettlingly long and sharp teeth.
To magical passengers, you’re looking at a 6 ft human fly. Big red compound eyes, a carapace covered in thick hairs, and worst of all, the insect tattoos move. Better hope you’re not squeamish.

You see, I just come in to join the crowd, had some time to kill

He’d gotten dragged into the conga line entirely too quickly for his tastes, too invested in trying to snoop around it to notice when he’d touched it. He’d fired off a contract, the Boon of the Scuttling Spider, to try and magically release himself. But whatever magic (almost certainly True Fae) was powering this place was too strong, and Bugsy found himself essentially crowd-surfing over the objects, to his dismay.

It's a graveyard charade, it's a late shift masquerade

Well, only one thing for it, if he’s back there again. Time to annoy the shit out of his captors until they either kill him or let him go. He’s up on the bridge with his banjo, entering into the third hour of his folk-punk rendition of Hotel California. Is Bugsy a good musician? No. Can he ‘play’ the banjo? Well, he’d ask what your definition of ‘playing’ is. Can he make noise by strumming the strings? Yes. Is it good noise? Also no. Does Bugsy sound like his voice has been scraped along the I-15 interstate for several miles before someone took pity on him and doused it in rubbing alcohol? Yes. If you want it to stop, you might need to tell him to knock it off.

Coffee and a roll, hash browns over easy

Arcadia or not, Bugsy’s never one to look a gift horse in the mouth when the gift horse is an all you can eat buffet. His curse is to never be satiated, be it hunger, thirst, creative drive, or just plain old horniness. He can attempt to satisfy three of those here; by stealing food from people’s plates, snatching other people’s drinks, and curling up in a booth, sketching anyone interesting he sees going by.

[touchofcashmere]

Stede is about to walk past when he sees a handsome man sitting in one of the booths. Even that doesn't so much stop him as the ship is full of handsome men... but what is most interesting is what he's doing.

So he'll come up, hands behind his back, and peer over the man's shoulder.

"Are you an artist?"

Alec 'Bunny' Stebbins - Changeling: the Lost

[conjuredrabbit]

(ooc note: as with Bugsy above, what you see with Bunny here depends on your magicosity, which is totally a word. If you're a mundane human (or non-human who is non-magical), you'll see a curly-haired young man with wide eyes and a nervous expression. If you're magical, though, you will see a rabbit-man with sparse white fur and black-tipped rabbit ears perking out of his hair. Those with supernatural senses of smell will also totally smell rabbit on him.)

1. One Day You'll Wake Up in the Present Day
On some level, somehow, Bunny isn't entirely surprised, finding himself here. Oh, no, it wasn't where he expected to wake up, but...but. Every changeling lives in fear of the day they find themself kidnapped out of reality and into someone else's cruel game.

Of course, if this is an Arcadian realm, it will have rules. Bunny begins learning them almost immediately, as he tries to avoid the muster drill. But oh, no, it seems there's no way to go but up to the deck for the presentation. He's silent throughout the drill, but once they're released to settle in, Bunny begins looking over the crowd assessingly.

"So, what's the Keeper like, then?"

2. A Million Generations Removed from Expectations
Some True Fae have endless labyrinths in their realms. The Captain, though, has Tommy Bahama instead. Bunny stands in the threshold of the store, staring inside. Were you trying to get in? You may need to ask him to move--he's blocking the way indecisively, nose twitching slightly at the tropical-ish scents.

3. Of Being Who You Really Want to Be
A few days in, Bunny can be found on the sports deck, running the track. His speed is...inhuman, quite frankly. He runs like Usain Bolt, but sustains the speed, trying to run off his nerves.

Failing, but trying nonetheless.

4. Skating Away on the Thin Ice of a New Day
After his run, it's possible to encounter him at the Windjammer, piling his plate with vegetable sides and salad; if you're excited about a meat dish, he may give you a bit of a sidelong look, though he doesn't seem to be the preachy sort of vegan.

(He's just afraid he'll be prey too..)

3

[pineapplesalmon]

César sees nothing but an ordinary young man. Who just went past him as he himself takes a run on the track. Wow, he's pretty fast.

And shortly later, he gets passed again. Wait? Shouldn't he be tired? Then eventually a third time, and César is so distracted by this that he just... slows to a halt and watches the guy.

He's just. Going to walk off the track and wait until the guy is done running to talk to him. Because he doesn't want to interrupt him. César knows what it's like to be in The Zone.

"You've probably heard this a lot, but, wow, you're really fast."

Jeff | OC

[cacophonish]

I. ROCK YOU LIKE A HURRIKANE

If he'd woken up on a mysterious cruise ship in the middle of a disturbingly empty ocean a few months ago, Jeff probably would've chalked it up to a total and complete mental breakdown and rushed to (festively!) drown himself in daiquiris and pina coladas.

But he's in a better place now. He's, like, totally stable and grounded and copacetic and okay that's all a big fucking lie, he's not any of those things. But the point is: he's trying to be those things, and that's what counts! So he's going to roll with this.

It's fine.

He's fine.

Everything's fine.

Yeah, he's standing in front of a fancy cocktail bar, but that's only because he just happened to stumble upon it after the safety drill, and he could really use a drink to get the taste of roadkill out of his mouth.

(No offense, Beetlejuice.)

So here's Jeff, haunting the threshold of Hurrikane like he needs an invitation to step inside, staring at the bar with a slightly queasy look on his face until he very suddenly realizes he's, like, not alone.

He flinches, startled, and blurts out, "I just want a Shirley Temple!"

II. CONGA CONGA CONGA

Let's keep this short and sweet.

Jeff sees a conga line of inanimate objects-- un-inanimate objects-- animate inanimate objects-- fuck it, whatever, he sees a conga line of bottles, lamps, clipboards, pillows, books, and-- further down the line-- totally miserable looking people, and his first response is:

"Whoa... Dude! This is awesome!"

And before anyone can warn him, he's bounding over like an overgrown, overexcited puppy. Help. Somebody tackle him before he makes it to the cursed conga line.

III. Bermuda Bahama Come On Pretty Mama

Jeff looks like a poster boy for early 90s grunge rock, because, well, he is a poster boy for early 90s grunge rock. Hey, as far as he knows, it's still 1995.

So, yeah, okay, he looks a little out of place in a Tommy Bahama. But his broke bitch scavenger habits are hard to break, so he sees an oasis of (free???) clothes, he's going to dive right in and load his arms up with festive Hawaiian shirts. Jeff's going to come out of this looking like a refuge from Romeo + Juliet. (Which is, incidentally, a reference he wouldn't even get, because the movie's not out yet.)

He needs an intervention.

Eventually, Jeff takes a break from scavenging, peeking up over a rack of clothes, with several pairs of sunglasses pushed up on his hair. He looks around, brows furrowed, then waves down the nearest person.

"Hey, uh... You know where the exit is?"

IV. The show must go on

What's a bard to do when he finds a totally empty stage, in a totally empty theater?

He's going to grab his guitar and put on a one-man show. It's really for his own entertainment, standing center-stage, strumming away and singing his own rendition of some Fleetwood Mac songs. (Total comfort music, always makes him think of his mom, and-- bonus-- it's nothing at all like what he used to play with his ex-band. RIP Nervous Tix.) He's totally caught up in envisioning a screaming crowd filling the theatre, a packed house, and they're all here to see him and oh shit, wait, is somebody actually in Bellona Theater with him?

Jeff stops abruptly, mid-song, looking like a deer about to get creamed by a truck.

"Oh fuck."

Well, this is awkward. Can he run away? Would running away make it even more awkward?

Wildcard

toss anything at me! character tldr: rock 'n roll himbo bard from a modern fantasy universe. it's the 90s, and he's newly sober and recovering from an unpleasant bout of demonic possession that's left him with terrible stage fright, womp womp wommmp

iii

[bloodmunchies]

Not at all, dude, [ Aiden laughs, and he himself has a tacky Hawaiian shirt over his tank top and under his weathered letterman with the letters of about five or six different schools stitched on top of each other at once. He’s sticking his head out from the middle of one of those circular shirt racks, leaning forward with his elbows on the bar. ]

I don’t even remember how I got in here. I’m, like, completely lost.
[ Seriously, who invited him in? ]

Ace McShane |Doctor Who | OTA

[bazooka_girl]

1.
[she's not happy to be here. it beats where she was. But there's nothing like traveling back to the house you burnt down to really set your teeth on edge. After the introduction and avoiding that horrid stinking man, Ace is standing near the railing reading the letter and being generally in a mood]

It's not the first time I've been doomed... [she turns to whomever is nearby] Here, did you read this thing? [she flaps the paper] Is it true? About the death and all?


2.
Come on, let go! [she's aware that she's talking to a chair that she's holding on to, but who knows? Anything could be sentient in this wacky ship. She's less then happy about the hatstand that keeps bumping into her backpack and threatening to brain her.

She then spots someone just starting to come into the buffet they're snaking through]

I'd stay away if I were you! You'll get pulled in!

3.
[Ace has been in here for hours, snagging this and that and putting in her backpack as she searches for the end which doesn't seem to be one]

This has got to be a tardis. [whose, she doesn't know. It doesn't look like the Professor's at all and doesn't feel like it but it's definitely a lot bigger than it should be. She then hears someone walking around not far away and gets her bat from her backpack to wait for them to come into view. She doesn't know if they are going to be the owner of this place or someone trapped like her, but with a weird tardis involved she's not about to take chances.]

3

[borntolove]

[The Doctor has noticed that this place is a bit bigger on the inside too and he has already noticed he doesn't have his sonic or psychic paper on him. The Doctor clicks his tongue and continues to wander the hall and this is when he hears, 'this has got to be a tardis', in a very faint and distant voice and of course, that alone pings his interest to rush on over]

Ello?

[He heard someone. He knows he heard someone]

vi ⤬ arcane

[ex_heaved685]

i. you're the only one you owe

⇢ a. [ Like every day for the last two thousand and five hundred, Vi’s ears hone into the sound of water lapping nearby before wakefulness finally finds her. The cabin is miles and leagues better than her tiny cramped cell at Stillwater penitentiary, but the walls still feel too close and pressing in, suffocating her, keeping her trapped. No matter how they dress it up, a plain box with flashy furnituring still makes a cell a cell, no matter how humane the mattress and armoire the place has given her. It’s a suggestion of comfort. An illusion.

That she can deal with. It’s mostly the door not opening that sends her into a blind panic.

The note goes completely overlooked as Vi aims a second kick at her cabin’s door handle, it jiggles and bounces back like her heel never made contact.

She slams her fist into the door again and again, and it rattles, but doesn’t give. The noise is probably echoing down unseen hallways and in the ears of hidden jailers. But she keeps at it trying to break her own door down from the inside. ]

⇢ b. [ Doors that open with notes, is by all means: a bunch of shit. Vi eventually figures out the puzzle that's not even really a puzzle, and is set loose into a land of… she isn’t even sure what she’s looking at. She’s only been on a boat once in her life, and she had been unconscious for it, but she’s certain it never looked like this.

Everything is bright, plastic, and neon. A collage of building materials and decor style that she’s never seen before, and doesn’t care to investigate further. All she wants is the stupid drill to be over and done with, so she’ll play as nice as she knows how so she can get free as soon as possible.

She becomes more aware of the nervous energy rolling off her when a ring of flowers is dropped over her head. It makes Vi snap, waspishly. ]

I’m not paying for this.

ii. the price of vice foretold

[ Possibly the worst thing happens when Vi enters the clothing store: she finds that she likes the loud patterned shirts inside. There’s lots of room through the shoulders– a rarity in women’s apparel– and the material is soft and airy. She can definitely fight in it no problem. Move without seams cutting into her broad shoulders, or ripping if she flexes just the wrong way. It’s perfect and she fully intends to stock up.

Vi starts stuffing shirts into the overly large pockets of her pants when something catches her attention. Somewhere towards the back of the store Vi sees a flicker of movement ducking in between clothing racks and still mannequins. She drops the shirt in her hold and starts to creep closer, following whoever is skulking around in the infinite tommy bahama with her. ]

iii. wildcard

( make something up or shoot me a pm to discuss, etc! )

iii.

[opheliac]

(normally when it comes to new shipmates boarding, she would hang around up in the rafters -- observing and pick out from the crowd on whom she finds interesting or to toy with. but today isn't one of those days for her, instead she's been rather distant than the norm. it's not necessarily a good mental day for her, well, it hadn't been since she's been "back". the whispers and the monsters had been louder than they use to be; visions of the dead nuzzle along her neck with their hurtful reminders -- from her past, home, and events on the Serena Eterna.

she tried venti's stupid feather method and it worked only half of the time. without him helping her through, what was even the point? and she'll be damned if she would ever call him for guidance. ...despite a part of her wanted to. and like hell, she'll ask ekko for help, too. it's true they are in this together but whose to say he will somehow use this whole experience to his advantage? how? she isn't sure but... he can't be fully trusted. especially when earlier this morning, she was gifted with three vials of shimmer from friday and/or the captain.

but why? what would be the purpose of her having it here? either way, she stored it deep, deep away in the threatre for safe keeping for now. and maybe it would be something to ask friday about whenever her mind isn't so full. after all, she knew everything, right? so... she must know the reason.)

(jinx is walking along the main deck wearing a hoodie with the hood up. her hands are shoved in its pockets; slouching. she doesn't have a particular destination, really -- just strolling along until... something. and with her mind racing with a lot of thoughts going at once, she shoulder bumps into someone; which that someone being vi. but she doesn't say,"excuse me" or look up, instead she continues to walk along without a word.

she isn't wearing her tradmark pants or boots -- just ordinary shoes and shorts. but there are (2) key things that stick to know this person is jinx even if she attempts to be incognito. one, her hair. it's far too long to be tucked in her hoodie so the two braids are poking out of the hood from each side of her shoulders. two, her tattoos. given the warm weather, the hoodie is more of a half-shirt sort of style where it covers the chest but exposes the adomen.)

The Doctor | Doctor Who

[borntolove]

you're the only one you owe

[The Doctor, didn't like the fact of his legs locking up as he did try and sneak away from Deck One. Eventually, he does comply.]

Yes! Hallo!

[The Doctor beams]

Excuse me. Why are we are we all doomed?

[He's more concerned about the rest than himself]

Where's this ship going? Can I speak with the Captain? Has anyone seen my friend, Rose? Blonde human wearing pink.

Around

[The Doctor is out and about looking for both Rose and his Tardis and can't help get distracted by the little shops. More-so, how one of those shops has sonic screwdriver]

Oi! That's mine!

[However, he's told by the shop-keeper, he needs money]

Wut? but that's my sonic screwdriver.

[Ten remarks with a bit of a pout and ruffles his hair]

How do make money again?

WildCard

^{(Feel free to hit me up with whatever, or pp this journal if you'd like to bounce some ideas :3)}