MarinaNova Asylum

[The camera clicks on, showing a small bit of the cherubs' apartment, specifically near a window; there is a trash can in which something is burning, and the smoke is filtering out. Mostly. The glass is gone, but it has since been cleaned up, if the lack of shards anywhere is any indication. However, it looks like the room is a mess.]

[It is Caliborn who speaks, off-camera as he may be, and his voice is ever-separated from Calliope's by his spitting harshness.]

Hello, fuckheads.

So. Since it might be pointless to firebomb the kiosk. Tempting as it may be! We will play a different game today. Today, we are appeasing the bad rule-breaking juju. With a sacrifice.

[He dips a drawing in front of the camera—done by Calliope, and thus competently rendered and recognizably Aradia.]

Oh. Look. My sister's ugly art. Where did this come from? [He moves, still mostly out of frame. But his arm is briefly visible, and bandaged. He drops it into the wastebin.]

Good riddance.

Wow. Look. What a find! [He shakes a sheaf of papers filled with computer-typed text.] An entire essay on troll romance. Complete with horrific details about their reproductive rituals. Icky barf. I know just what to do with this.

[In it goes, too. Along with, apparently, a USB stick.] Ahh. That smell, those noxious fumes? That is the smell of the juju turning back to our favor. And, bonus? We are not sharing the same air as such horrific filth.

[He walks over to the communicator and ends the feed—for the prison at large.]

[Filtered to the Family Issues Therapy group.]

If you tell anyone our secret. I'm biting off her drawing hand. I don't even care.

Am I fucking clear.

[The relationships group therapy attendees will all get a message telling them to report to The Winery in Sector 2. Sadly for them the alcohol is locked away, but there is an assortment of food and non-alcoholic beverages along the bar for consumption. Many of the tables have been cleared out and the chairs rearranged into a circle with booths along the edges for more intimate therapeutic discussions.

And don't forget the party favors! The wardens have left some helpful games and activity ideas to get them started. There's a bowl full of folded slips of papers with various questions.]

( Possible Questions )

[In addition to the questions there are cards with various prompts. One explains the game, I Never. Another suggests people pair off and roleplay they are in a relationship and then deal with various scenarios like what do to if one partner flirts with someone else or comes home late without calling.]

( Additional scenarios )

(OOC: Mingle style. You are not limited to the questions, scenarios, or games listed above. Assume there are more! I recycled a lot of this from last time so if someone was in this group twice they can feel free to notice, but assume there are lots of questions and prompts, so they probably didn't see them all.)

[ Closed because I'm still actually on hiatus, and so as not to distract from the newbies. ]

( Read more... )

[ Hanging out with Calsprite is the bomb.

But unfortunately it could not last forever. Calsprite seemed to have other business (probably harassing Caliborn, which Dirk 100% endorses), so now Dirk is just. Sort of. Hanging out alone.

And kind of surreptitiously keeping an eye out for familiar faces during this temporary influx. ]

[The face of a wide-eyed, smiling, affectionate puppet fills up the screen, pure white save for the glowing orange that seems to radiate from it warmly. He doesn't blink, just appears to be moving slightly up and down due to its abnormal state of being. He's almost ghostly in form but not translucent or transparent like they show in the movies. Large wings spread from his back as he stands in the park, though the video only shows glimpses.

He's silent for a good while until-]

HAA.

HEE HEE. HOO HOO HEE. HAA HAA HEE HEE HOO HOO.

HEE HEE HEE.

[Bro comes home from the Christmas party slightly boozed up and Cal-less. Though the buzz takes the sharp edge off the loneliness he feels when he slips into his bed and doesn’t find his beloved C keeping the futon warm for him, it isn’t enough to make sleep come any easier. He has a hard time trying to get rest. Worst fuckin’ insomnia.

He wastes about three hours trying to lull himself into unconsciousness by composing raps, sewing, watching porn. Nothing works.

His body is exhausted, but his mind honestly can’t settle if his bed is empty. And that’s when he decides that his best bet for getting rest is…

Dave.

After all, before he finally put his foot down and made the little man man the hell up, his precious baby brother used to climb into his bed whenever he had nightmares or got scared of the dark or any number of other lame excuses for bein’ less of a Strider. It was about time Dave returned the favor for all those years of loving care.

He ninjas over to Dave’s room. It really is so nice to have the kid back.]

[ And here is one (1) Roxy Lalonde, a little hung over and a little disheveled, but in one piece. She switches the camera on the moment she wanders out of the apartment building and is totally not dressed properly for the weather but like she gives a fuck. She is positively beaming. ]

I slept the whole day long, and I am real regretful. Look at this shit. It's fluffy, it's white, it's wet and cold, it's the snow, the for reals Jack Frost, the goddamn Old Man Winter, would you take a fuckin' look at this??

Never saw snow before. And there's no way anyone else missed this, unless they also decided on the fly that sleepin' all day's the way to go, so I'm just sayin' shit you already noticed. But I don't care. It's diamond sparkle brilliance, ice queen beauty, off the handle prettiness, and this shit needs to be admired, you get it.

Pass on the eggnog and holiday cheer, and someone's gotta build a snowman with me. Anyone. Everyone.

[Ianto has, predictably, gone a bit overboard for the Christmas party he and Jack are throwing. The entire apartment has been decorated; there's a tree with gold and silver ornaments and twinkling lights, garlands draped over doorways, candles in every window and festive nicknacks scattered about. It looks like something out of a magazine, and may make visitors a little afraid to actually touch anything. There's also a lot of mistletoe around (one of the side effects of living with Captain Jack Harkness) so it's probably a good idea to keep one eye on the ceiling at all times.

Of course he's made plenty of coffee and some appetizers, so he hopes people really do respond to the invitation Jack sent out, otherwise there are going to be a hell of a lot of leftovers.]

[Enjoy the jingle of sleigh bells early this morning, criminals!]

Ho, ho, ho. Merry Christmas. Festive, isn't it? I do so hope you enjoy your snow and twinkling lights and sprigs of this and that. Lots of shiny today. You'll find the foods of the season at most establishments. The museum is focused on Christmas and even the jukeboxes offer holiday-themed tunes.

And don't say we never gave you anything. [Enjoy your neatly wrapped nondescript gift from the wardens!] You're welcome though undeserving of course.

Oh, yes, and it is Day 226. Temperatures will be low today and there's snow, obviously.

Aradia Megido, your request is available for pick up.

[Mail Delivery: From "Your Lord" to Piter de Vries.]

(OOC: See all the details on Christmas/snow/warden gifts check out the OOC post! Kiosk requests will be handled by Veridical unless otherwise requested. Mail submissions can be left here.)

[Bro’s been a very busy man as of late! Though it’s true he spends a good amount of his valuable time harassing babyself and co., he has other important things to do. Plans to set in motion. “What kind of plans?” you might ask.

Let me tell you right now that you probably don’t want to know.

But regardless, you’re going to find out.]

Yo.

Aight, I got a pretty damn successful business back home and I’ve been thinkin’ of opening a storefront here. I like havin’ shit to do. Keeps me honest and all. But given the…nature…of the store in mind, I figured I should test the waters and I got a few questions.

If you ain’t too busy, mind if I hit you up?

…I’d say only 18 and up need respond but since it don’t seem like you gotta be legal to drink here, I’m guessin’ the age restrictions on the distribution of pornographic materials also ain’t countin’. So go ahead, I guess.

What a fuckin’ lawless den of iniquity.

[ooc: So if that wasn’t clear, Bro is hoping to set up an adult novelty store (pretty much a retail outlet for his smuppets and other sex toys) in Marina!! That’s what the questions he ask will be about and, provided your character looks/sounds over 16 (Bro actually does have some limitations to his grossness), they will be potentially embarrassing and deeply personal things like: are you in a relationship, are you sexually active, do you look at porn (on the internet, in print, etc), have you ever used a toy before on yourself/on someone else, is there anything that would enhance your sex life here, things like that.]

[ well, shit.

he's been here for nearly a full day now without saying anything. and you know what? he's tempted to keep it that way. but eventually, he's going to have to say something - gotta make his presence known. gotta enlighten the masses. gotta post within a week of being accepted. what? a third reason? there is no third reason. dave strider works entirely within the framework of double parallelisms. he's just that kind of guy.

and so, for entirely non-meta reasons, dave strider clicks on the audio feed, clears his throat, and begins his speech. ]

Well, shit. Looks like it finally happened. No real surprise here, right? The RIAA always needs new victims – they're corporate bloodsuckers, and they've got to find cattle somewhere. I mean, fuck, they're literally the man. The men? Shit, is the man really a collective noun here? That's fucked up, yo.

[ is he getting off track? maybe. will that stop him? NO SIRREE. ]

Anyway, so. We've got a bunch of suits sitting at a table Dr. Strangelove style, discussing who to sue next, right? And they're like, how about this rad dude, all pointing at an IP address on the holoscreen, since he's just too cool for us to handle any longer. And a few of the guys in the back, Connors and Jenkins - fuckin' Jenkins, man, just started here last week, doesn't really have his bearings yet - have the balls to ask well, what exactly makes him special? And see, here's the thing - he really is a fucking menace. Dude downloads like an LP a week. He got himself a free copy of Photoshop, without even paying for a student license. And you know what the worst part is? He keeps his seeder ratio above one point five.

[ he has the audacity to give a vaguely apathetic gasp. ]

What, one point five? You're fucking with me, right? Nope - dude's just a fucking paragon of shitty internet pirates.

[ ...he clears his throat. this got out of hand quickly. ]

...anyway, that's basically how I got thrown in fucking underwater prison for piracy and goddamn cyberbullying. Take notes here, kids. Don't make the same mistakes I did - drink your milk, don't do drugs, stay in school and all that shit.

[ ... ]

Oh, and try to avoid multiple counts of genocide if you can. I mean, that kind of takes a backseat to forging a digital signature on porn site splash pages, but its gotta count for something, right? Right. I'm out.

[ click! ]

[ Closed to Jane Crocker, Jake English, and whichever cherub is awake at the moment ]

Where are you?


[ Open ]

Who wants to start some hardcore prison barter system? Give me your candy bar for my piece of cabbage or I'll shank you with my toothbrush, etc.

Actually, are we even still calling it "prison"? This place has a more backwater feel to it than MarinaNova, so I feel some slang is in order. "The slammer", maybe? "The clink" implies metal cell bars, so I don't think that's appropriate. "The big house". I don't know, I'm still relatively new to this life of crime shit. Thoughts?

[Wake up and smell the lack of coffee. You're on a bunk bed. Maybe you're a top and maybe you're a bottom. There are five other people in your room. Maybe they're friends or enemies or faces you barely recognize if at all. It doesn't matter much. You can leave this room and you don't need to come back to it.

You should get your rations though. You're probably hungry. You're definitely a little sluggish of body. What happened to that bruise you got sparing yesterday? What happened to your newly dyed hair? Mystery, mystery... Move along. Find the public bathrooms and do your business with a hundred of your closest friends.

Find the kiosk and get your rations. Careful not to let anyone steal them. You won't get more until tomorrow and the bots won't care. They aren't here to hold your hand. If you get sick or hurt and they deem it necessary they will take you to the hospital whether you wish it or not. But why dwell on such things? You're here now and you might as well enjoy it. You even get a free day today.]

(OOC: OOC info. This mingle takes place in the Main shelter over the morning hours.

( dumb date stuff )

[ Late that night, Dirk is unable to sleep. His sleep patterns have been screwed up for years, so there's nothing new there. So he's out, wandering around Sector Two, just walking and trying not to think.

Keyword: Trying. No matter how hard Dirk tries, though, it's like he can't keep his thoughts from going to morbid places. There's no way out. There's no point even trying. They're doomed-timeline alternates, so there's nothing to go home to anyway. And then the more fun stuff -- the one good point about being stuck here is that he gets to hang out with his friends in an environment that isn't trying to kill them, but he hardly deserves them. He was acutely aware of that already, but he'd sort of tricked himself into thinking that the undesirable things he's done were necessary for their survival in Sburb.

So what's his excuse now that he knows he's exactly the same in a completely different timeline?

There he goes again, thinking about stuff that he needs to not think about. He can't escape from himself no matter how he tries. ]

[ VOICE ]

Talk to me.

Home remedies for sleeplessness. What do you do? Tell me. I have nothing in my ears, nothing to do. No story or recipe is too boring.

Or tell me about your sex life, if that's any better.


[ ACTION ]

[ It's late out. Damara can't sleep. It's as simple as that: she wanders through the dome craving a cigarette, walking until she feels tired. You can catch her pretty much anywhere. ]

[ Roxy is in front of the camera, sloshed and loving the shit out of her shark themed jacket. She waves, smiling. ]

I kind of forgot to do this earlier. It was my punishment, and I've been putting it way off. Sorry for the sex that happened days ago, guys.

Let's talk about something else, though. Let's talk about drinks. I wanna broaden my horizons. Wanna try new things. So tell me, what's your favorite drink? Alcohol necessary. How do you make it? Shaken, stirred, microwaved, brought to a boil and then mixed with gasoline? How do.

( private to bro strider )

Er, okay.

So I believe I have this all in order!! And I, um. I am in dire need of some assistance right now. It's rather embarrassing so any unclued wise guy who'd like to heave a few haws at my expense can go ahead and show their rears to the door because I'm not having any of that horseshit!

[He clears his throat.]

Anywhosits.

So yesterday was, er.

A bit wacko?

And in all the hubbub, I might have done something I would have never done normally with someone. Or, um. Perhaps I'd been doing my darnedest to prepare myself to step in that direction, but gee whiz I expected a bit longer of a turnaround period before getting my ass handed to me like a dude on butler island!!!

Now I turned tail as soon as I got up and I'm hiding until I can get all the words that I need to say together. But conflabbit if facing him isn't the hardest thing to do sometimes!!!

[ Dirk is unaffected by the emotional manipulation going around, but one could be forgiven for assuming otherwise -- He's storming from place to place, driven and scowling and clearly a man on a mission.

Do feel free to stop him and ask what's up and why he's carrying that wooden sword around, or chat him up about the weather, but he's not going to have much to say. ]

((OOC: Thread with Jake is moderately NSFW. ))

[Bro is not a good man, but he does keep word. Just a little after 8 PM, he’s tucking in his shirt as he walks out of his apartment to head to the address Roxy gave him the night before. He’s going to be a little late to pick her up for tonight's drinking date, but at least he’s enough of a gentleman to do it proper instead of making her try to find him at a bar. Because having agreed to taking his younger alternate self’s equally young friend out on a date with inebriation on the agenda right after arriving is really proper, and not at all creepy and fucked up. You’re so cool, Bro.

But hey. If she wants go out with him so bad, he certainly ain’t gonna stop her.]

((ooc: this is a content warning for a major age differences and non-consent. nothing graphic will be played out in this post but it’s still going to be squicky. god i am sorry.))