Test Drive 20 (August & September)

[sixthiteration]

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Test Drive

→ Holds and applications are always open. Holds are required for all applications.

→ Choose one of the scenarios below or make up your own. Feel free to try multiple scenarios.

→ Write LOGS or TEXT prompts, or both.

→ THERE ARE ONLY THREE RULES FOR THE TDM:

1. It has to take place in the 6I universe.
2. It cannot be the character's arrival into the game.
3. Please only test new characters who do not have a version in the game. Our cast list is here.

→ TDM threads cannot be used to meet AC, but if the character is accepted into the game and both players agree, you may keep the CR.

→ Character want ads are here.

Prompts

Happy anniversary, villagers! Buckle up!

1. HEAT WAVE - Poor you. All you were trying to do was get yourself a little something to eat from the kitchen at the inn. Maybe you cooked it up yourself (The inn does, after all, have an electric stove — FANCY!), or maybe you just grabbed some leftovers. By accident or on purpose, you ended up with way more RED SALT in there than you maybe should have, and this is no ordinary seasoning. Whether you like things eye-wateringly spicy or not, it's August, you're sweating buckets, and it's only getting worse.


2. SKUNK DRUNK - Isn't that just the way? You're out and about, minding your own business, and you get sprayed by a BROWN SKUNK. The good news? It doesn't stink like a normal skunk. The also possibly good news, depending on who you ask? You're now in for about 5 hours of being very, very friendly. (Just remember to keep the test drive PG!)


3. BRAIN CANDY - Whether you made it to the anniversary party or not, you've gotten your hands on a piece of leftover candy from the big bash. Careful, though, these treats are more than meets the eye: Whatever COLOR it was, you've now taken on the associated personality traits. (Not the power, just the traits.) At least it only lasts 10 minutes.


4. WILDCARD - Choose your own adventure. Maybe play powers roulette.

Texts

All characters are fitted with a smart watch-like device on their left wrist, which they can use to send text messages to other villagers.

- Texts may only be 140 characters long
- No video or voice, text only
- Display names may be changed by characters on the fly, but anyone can tap to see someone's real full name

Please list your CHARACTER NAME, CANON & PROMPT in your SUBJECT LINE.

Comments

Wanda Maximoff -- MCU (6th Iteration CRAU)

[minus1twin]

HEAT WAVE

It was a surprise to find herself back in the village though it wasn't as unpleasant as the last time she was here.

She had spent several long months in the simulation while only spending a short amount of time in the area that she had internally classified as the 'real world'. Now she had time to explore and for the moment things at home weren't to dire to act as a distraction; for once the world wasn't falling to pieces.

Wanda visited the inn first. She tried to see who had come and gone from the last time she'd been here as well as find herself something to eat. The food selections have grown significantly during her absence and she decided to throw caution to the wind and try something new.

That had been a mistake.

The moment that the dish touched her tongue Wanda felt the heat of the spice. She wasn't going to waste food but each additional bite made her discomfort rise. She was used to the heavily spiced foods of Sokovia but nothing there had prepared her for this.

Anyone walking into the kitchen will see Wanda holding onto the counter, her shoulders slumped forward and tears in her eyes.

SKUNK DRUNK

The wildlife was strange, new and rude. Wanda had been trying to map out the area around the village when she had come across the brown skunk. She knew what a skunk was, even if she didn't recognize the breed or have an additional information about the species, but her attempts to avoid it had been futile and it had inevitably sprayed her.

She stomped through the forest, away from the skunk while following the soft echoing sounds of the river.

Hopefully, she'll be able to jump in and wash off the wet feeling of the skunk spray. It didn't smell but that didn't mean that Wanda wanted it on her.

T E X T

I see these are getting some use.

Is anyone here who remembers me from the last time I was here?

[ooc: Feel free to make up prompts for any of the above and wildcard it too. I'm easy and good with whatever. She'll be wandering and getting her barring's again.]

UN: Barnes

[freightcars]

I've been here before, apparently, but I don't remember it. If we were here at the same time, I'm sorry, it's gone.
But I remember you from out there. Never got a chance to thank you.

[ For fighting with him, with Steve, at the airport. ]

Harry Potter | Harry Potter

[luckyblunder]

i. heat wave!

In Harry's case, the stereotype about English people not being able to hold up against spicy food, was true. Sure he enjoyed a good spicy curry now and then, but whatever he had seasoned his fish with was beyond his threshold of tolerance. The heat sloshed through his moth permeating it even further with the cool water he had hurriedly drank after that first bite.

"Hhheeeeeh," he wheezed loudly. Behind slightly askew spectacles his eyes clenched shut against tears of pain from the unexpected heat. Maybe it wouldn't have been so bad but it was hot here today. Really hot! And now his mouth was on fire. Harry couldn't have missed drizzly, dreary old London more at that moment, with a nice soggy milk toast or some such.

Whoever was nearby would have the discomfort of Harry's ugly, splotchy red face turning to them as he continued to wheeze. "Is. there. milk?" he asked, then wondered if he would regret that too. For all he knew the milk here would turn him into a toad, or make him blind for a few hours. Having lived in the Wizarding World long enough he should have expected the unexpected by now, but he didn't. Compared to the flaming heat in his mouth turning into a toad sounded alright enough.

ii. wildcard!
((gimme your best shot :D))

[reprobate]

Quite honestly, Sirius has no idea what in the hell to do with Harry being here.

Which isn't to say he isn't pleased — He is, inordinately. But it's well odd when the last time he'd seen Harry back home, he'd been a baby, and now here he comes popping out the fountain full-grown and looking more like James than ought to be allowed. Sirius feels torn, really, between the innate need to be near his godson, and to just stay well away because obviously Sirius is the cause of all of Harry's troubles and the kid is much better off without him. Between that and Sirius not being as old as Harry remembers, it's been a bit of an awkward go of it since he turned up.

But none of that means Sirius doesn't care, or doesn't spend what is probably entirely too much time lurking nearby trying to get his head around it all while he does the one thing he reckons he might still manage, which is keep Harry alive.

The red salt seems unlikely to kill anybody, but Sirius has experienced its wrath himself, and he jolts for the inn kitchen almost as soon as he enters the room and spies Harry's face, returning a moment later with a cup of milk.

"Ignore the color, it tastes the same," he insists as he thrusts the cup Harry's way, slopping a little of the pale green liquid onto the floor.

Severus Snape | Harry Potter

[palelostlillies]

╔═════ ∘◦ ☆ ◦∘ ══════╗
h e a t w a v e
╚═════ ∘◦ ❉ ◦∘ ══════╝
Aside the insufferable accommodations Severus received here, he also had to navigate through further ridicule, abuse, and humiliation by the fact that these so called observers had power enough to pull more than mischief over their eyes.

A power unparalleled in the world he came from, that’s for certain. This was something akin to something one expect to come from a deity, a god. The wizardry world had secrets of its own, even those with enough sense in their head and power to their wand to make spells anew, more efficient, and strong. Regardless of what he’s applied, learned, and done in his time he was still subject to trickery and disdain here. As if it was not enough he was here, he also need be here for the entertainment of these others.

These thoughts were a good portion of what took possession of his mind throughout the day as he wandered the village and poked holes through the air to see where one might find the hidden doorway to the life-beyond. Oh, yes, he was dead - supposedly, for he certainly was not dead here.

Which brings him to now; being alive one required certain essentials to sustain that life, no matter how dreary or inconvenient that life was. He wasn’t about to snuff himself out, after all. Thus, he settled for feeding himself when he was hungry, sleeping when he was tired, and practicing good hygiene to be comfortable.

This, however, was not something he was comfortable with as the bite of his scrambled eggs sent what felt like lava down his throat. His cheeks warmed uncomfortably to the point that his very pores felt as if they were steaming. The heat rose, yet again, up to his eyes which teared up and secreted a feel of almost oil around his eyelids and he was sure they were close to slipping right out from his face. What a sight that would be. Wouldn’t that please the observers?

The temperature rose further north which caused his forehead to feel clammy and it spiked up through his hair which thinned and flattened with the sticky beads of sweat secreting between his strands.

If you’re lucky enough to be around him he certainly is glaring in your direction as if this was your fault.

╔═════ ∘◦ ☆ ◦∘ ══════╗
s k u n k d r u n k
╚═════ ∘◦ ❉ ◦∘ ══════╝
{ The sudden spray sent Severus down a drowsy and uncomfortable path in which he eventually clashed against a tree. His eyes focused on the brown animal which he was caught between concluding it to be a cat or an otter. In any case, the spray came from the creature and he was spelled into a sudden exhaustion. Or he suddenly picked up a case of narcolepsy.

In any case, Severus was down for the count. He was pressed up tight against the tree with his chin down to his chest and his hair veiled around his face. The awkward position caused a few snores to press through his mouth which was gaped open.

Two minutes pass and he suddenly wakes with a burst of energy and a warm flush to his cheeks. He slowly pushes himself up against the tree and his hands settle on the bark as if to silently thank the tree for being a wonderful spot to sleep.

He staggers back into the village with a smooth feeling through his joints and a warm churning in his gut; he’s excited, yet he’s not quite sure why––

until he spots someone. When he does it’s evident exactly what he’s feeling and what must be done about it. So he looks to the other and offers a gesture, perhaps a promise, for a good - old - friendly time with them. }

╔═════ ∘◦ ☆ ◦∘ ══════╗
t e x t
╚═════ ∘◦ ❉ ◦∘ ══════╝

Username: Severus.Snape

I need not ask but for the sake of keeping an open mind between the inhabitants of this stage and the audience with their puppet strings:

Why is my room filled with a few dozen white rabbits?

╔═════ ∘◦ ☆ ◦∘ ══════╗
w i l d c a r d
╚═════ ∘◦ ❉ ◦∘ ══════╝

{ Choose your own adventure }

Skunk Drunk

[reprobate]

Leaning against one of the posts holding up the inn's front porch, slowly-smoldering cigarette in hand, Sirius stares.

"What the bloody hell are you doing?" he asks, and then pulls a face. "Is that a mating call? There aren't any grease spots round here, Snivellus. Maybe try behind the butcher's." Still frowning, he takes a drag and then sighs it out with a muttered, "No wonder you've never been laid."

Kenzi Malikov ][ Lost Girl

[morethanasidekick]

Heatwave

There was supposed to be rules when it came to food. Red meant hot, sure - just like it meant fast when it came to cars by when it involved salty things? It was supposed to cancel that shit out. Like with caviar or that pink Himalayan salt that was basically just regular salt with food coloring and a few extra elements off the periodic table thrown into the mix. It was not supposed to be salty and spicy and making her sweat more than a cheap hooker on coupon night.

"Hold my drink." The drink in question contains something of questionable origin with a very distinct scent of alcohol, so potent even from a distance of several feet that you get the sense it's a drink at your own risk kind of concoction. It gets thrust in the direction of the first person to come near her, some of the liquid sloshing over the edge of the cup and down her arm in the process.

"It's about to get PG-13 up in here."

Text

Alright. Who left their strapon in the lost and found?

Wildcard
For the canon-blind. Kenzi is a shameless, Russian speaking, functional alcoholic who has a Succubus for a best friend. She will hammer you with puns, personal questions and will lie just as much as she throws shock truths your way. Good luck figuring out which is which. Kenzi in a nutshell.

un: Big Dick Energy

[reprobate]

me
thought some of you out there needed it more

Wade Welles | Sliders

[freeslider]

~Heatwave~

For someone whose life was in constant motion, getting the time to cook was an increasingly rare treat, tempered more than slightly by the fact that it was only for herself and not for her friends. The simple pleasure of this is, of course, further reduced by the fact that her mouth is currently the approximate temperature of the Sahara desert and only getting worse by the second. Honestly she should have learned to be more cautious about food from other worlds by now, but the voice in the back of her mind that's lecturing her in a British accent is drowned out by the pain.

"Bread...bread...oh my god I need bread..." she mumbled, pawing desperately at the cabinets until she could tear open a cloth-wrapped bundle and begin stuffing it into her mouth to try to relieve the heat. The fact that she's crying is obscured by the sweat beading on her skin.

~Text~

So, we have fancy computer watches but we need to make our own candles? What gives?

~Wildcard~

City girl though she may be, Wade is an explorer at heart. Her early days in the city are bound to be filling with light exploration - poking about most areas inside or within relative walking distance of the villages all the way from the bungalows, to the orchards, to the lake. She takes all of this in relative stride, sometimes humming softly to herself as she walks.

[living_proof]

Sometimes, if you're really lucky, you get unreliable electricity

clark kent (superman) | dceu | heat wave

[symbolizes]

Heatwave )( open

Clark enjoys cooking and baking. That's what happens when you live on a farm away from the rest of the world with your mother as both your trainer and mentor. They did it together for fun and also as training to control his strength, senses, and eventually his heat vision. Even when he finds himself lacking these abilities, he still finds joy in what he's doing. Clark needs to figure out how his body is adapting to the sudden change in physiology. Will food still taste the same to him?

Evidently something was off when he was adding spices to the dish. His tongue burns when he goes to taste test his meal. That burning heat quickly travels to the rest of his body. Anyone walking in will see a bearded man with tears in his eyes, taking off shirt in the middle of the kitchen. Good first impression your name is Clark Kent.

Wildcard )( open

I am taking Clark from early in Man of Steel canon when he's searching for answers on his alien heritage. He will be doing every odd job around here including, but not limited to repairing homes, fishing/gathering food, farming, etc. Feel free to catch him during those scenarios or make up one of your own.

[digging]

Okay, that is— That's a very nice bare chest, and Karen is assuredly not looking at it. At all. It's clear that he's pained despite the very muscular distraction, and Karen falters where she's stepped in through the back door with a brace of rabbits slung over one shoulder.

"Are you—" she begins, and then glances to the counter. There's a bowl of red salt there, and suddenly all becomes clear.

"Just hang on," she quickly adds, dropping the rabbits to hurry to the cabinets. They don't have much in the way of bread, but milk might help, right? Glass in hand, she pulls open the refrigerator door and hastily pours out a measure of milk. It's green and sloppily done, but there's nothing for it.

"Here," she says, holding it his way.

Horatio Hornblower ➣ Hornblower (1998)

[misterhornblower]

wildcard - option a

When a small party had set out to forage after the heavy rain, it was only natural that Horatio had decided to accompany them. Being separated from the open ocean was an unwelcome change, but at least there were still many opportunities for adventure, and with due caution, he planned on investigating them - and investigating this place.

The dark, rich ground of the pine stands was soft and damp beneath his feet as the party approached a gulley carved two meters or so into the earth. The forest was beautifully quiet, so much so that he could hear the spaced-out plips of leftover rainwater dripping down leaves onto the ones below them - and then there was the sudden sound of earth giving way, roots snapping, boot treads struggling to find purchase against hard, wet soil. It was punctuated by a thump as his fellow villagers hit the bottom.

Horatio quickly made his way to the edge of the gorge, or at least as close to it as he could get while remaining absolutely certain the ground under his feet wasn't part of an overhang, and peered in.

"Are you hurt?"

wildcard - option b

"Will you please--" The zalpaca tried again to free her foot from the young man's grasp and set it back down, this time knocking the shears resting atop his thigh onto the ground. Horatio let out a frustrated groan and let go as he retrieved them, using his forearm to wipe sweat from his brow. "Damn animal," he muttered, shifting his weight on the balls of his feet and pulling her closer again with a hand on the side of her rope halter. "Stay still this time so that I can just trim your hooves and be done with it. I don't like this any more than you."

The other does in this particular paddock had been very well behaved, quietly yielding each hoof when asked and patiently standing through Horatio's fumbling attempts at farrier's work without issue as he had been told they would. It was only this one, an old, matronly thing presumably in charge of the others, who seemed to be annoyed with his inexperience. Even then, the overall docile nature of these animals seemed to have won out, seeing as her protests had only extended to trying to escape from his reach or put her feet back onto the ground, not kicking or biting like he could only assume most other animals in need of these sorts of services would, so he supposed that much could be said for her - but nonetheless, Mr. Hornblower was no fan of Princess the zalpaca.

With a frustrated huff, he wrapped a hand around her near pastern and returned the hoof to his lap, lips drawn into a tight line. He actually managed to trim off a few pieces of nail before her attempts to keep all four feet on the ground resumed - but when she did inevitably try to yank her hoof out of his hand, he doubled down, she swung toward him, and all at once his balance was thrown, sending him onto his back and into a pile of droppings.

"You infernal creature!"

It took him a moment to realize that he had an audience - and when he did, he sighed heavily. Another great first impression. First man to get seasick in Spithead, first person to get pushed around by an elderly zalpaca.

B

[reprobate]

Sirius has been, in fact, watching all of this with mild interest for quite some time. He'd stopped in the shade of a nearby tree to light a cigarette and had his attention snagged by the polite frustration on display. As grateful as he is for this new home of his, he'd learned quickly that he needed to find his entertainment wherever he could; this, by village standards, certainly qualified.

He finishes the cigarette just in time to witness the grand finale, and after scraping the butt out on his boot heel, saunters over to lean his forearms against the paddock rail. He makes a kissy-face at the zalpaca, who obliges him by stepping over to swipe once at his face with its long tongue before trotting imperiously off, probably on account of his tasting like nicotine.

"You need strawberries, mate," he advises with an arch of dark eyebrows.

chris traeger ☀️ parks & rec

[quiteliterally]

skunk drunk

This is literally the best day of my entire life. And you are the greatest person I've ever met... ever. Can I touch your face?

[ he's touching your face now ]

brain candy

(probably teal or red lbr)

Oh, I don't- like this. I feel... a feeling that isn't positive. You, there, tell me what I'm feeling. It's making my face do this.

[ chris screws up his face into something like a scowl. he looks miserable. ]

I've never made this face before. I think. You don't think this is going to give me wrinkles, do you?

network

un:chickpea

1. I want to know everything about each and every one of you.

2. This should be so fun in 140 characters or less.

3. Like cramming a million tennis balls into a very small closet.

4. And then you open the closet and they fall on you comically.

5. We're all going to die here.

candy

[dunshire]

What?

[Ben just stares and stares because of all the things to be concerned about right now, this is what he's focusing on??]

Actually, I make that face all the time. Do I have wrinkles? [Wait, maybe he shouldn't just leave that out there for someone else to answer. He quickly tacks on:] No.

daniel miller • berlin station

[verdeckt]

Skunk Drunk

Even after a week, Daniel is still waiting to wake up or at least come across some kind of clues that would explain where he was and why he was there. At least something more than the default 'sorry, I don't know what to tell you. you're just trapped here like the rest of us.'. Only he wasn't. There was a way out and all he had to do was find it.

He's been keeping to himself mostly, talked to a few people. But that afternoon, Daniel is on his way over to the inn when he comes across the brown skunk and before he passes the door he is smiling pleasantly and saying hello to everyone he passes by until he sits himself down in the dining hall.


Network
un: dm

i'm sure there's a range of conspiracy theories out there on why we're all here so let's hear them.

[nifties]

[ he's managed to sit across from (1) john constantine who's still wearing scrubs so probably isn't all that used to this place either yet. or at least the inescapable nature of it. there's no food in front of him and his head is against his arms folded on the table top. ]

I was saving that seat.

john constantine | CONSTANTINE (nbc)

[nifties]

HEAT WAVE 🔥 let me show you everything i know

"Cooking... magic. They can't be so different, eh?"

He chuckles to himself and adds in a pinch of the red salt with an enthusiastic sprinkle, only to knock the whole bloody container over into the pot.

"Bollocks," John curses, looking around to make sure no one saw him muck up the recipe. He plates the meal he'd made all by himself thanks, and tries to foist it off on the first person who comes into the room. "It's Rachael Ray. Come on, do us a solid." This is his best please face.

ROULETTE 🎲 wanna take a chance?

John had been seriously bummed out by the lack of his magics in this godawful place. Though the absence of his angel friend goes a long way towards making this village a hell of a lot more peaceful than home. Peaceful naturally being a relative term. He's concentrating really bloody hard here, but nothing's happening. It's a clear, but breezy day, he can hear groffles lowing and beards chirping.

"Downright picturesque, isn't it?" He hates it, in case you weren't catching the sarcasm. Suddenly, John disappears into thin air. Pop, and he's by the lake in 7I, teetering on the edge of the bank. Later he'll blame the disorientation, but he falls straight into the water with an inelegant squawk. "Bloody Hell."

He takes a moment to wallow before he realizes what just happened. Did he just... teleport? Oh Hell yeah.

"That's more like it!" he exclaims, pumping a fist in the air with a bright smile John Bender style. "Take that, you bloody wankers!!" He blinks again and appears in front of the Inn. As far as powers go, he can think of a few ways to use this one to his advantage.

TEXTS 📞 mind my wicked words

un:exorcist

Taking a poll: Am I the only one here who's damned to Hell? Because I'm not saying it's related to showing up here, but it seems related.

un: slothbaby

[morphogenia]

Uh... yeah. I'll ask the angels when I die in a few decades but, so far all signs point to no.

Bobo Del Rey | Wynonna Earp

[fooloftheking]

HEATWAVE

It's been a lot of years since Bobo's had to cook for himself, and most of them had been spent in Hell. That being what it is, that doesn't mean he doesn't have the skills. While he is a man of creature comforts, he began life with much less than they have even here, and he's certain he can do this again. At least he until he finds a way once more to a better life.

So he's in the kitchen, doing much as he did when he was just Robert Svane in a Purgatory as just a human.

It isn't much, the basics of stew being easy enough, and enough salt can cover a multitude of sins. Or so he thinks as he starts eating. Okay, damn he's not sure what he added with that heat, but it's definitely got a kick. But it's food, and filling, and he'll be damn if he let's himself be bested by stew for fuck's sake.

About half way through the bowl, his face is a rich shade of his red, sweat shines on his brow, and if there's a bit of a tremor in his hand as he goes to take another bite, well, he's never going to admit that.

That bite never makes it to his mouth though, dropping bowl, spoon and all into the sink with a howl that is much more animal than human as he spins about from the sink, huffing out a breath.

"Well Damn! Now that will definitely warm a man's gut."

SKUNK DRUNK

Bobo believes that no matter what a man believes himself to be, and even when he's not entirely a man in many ways, if you see a skunk? You turn and head the other way. Which he did, planning to hightail it out of there, but it is too late and he finds himself sprayed.

Pissed at first, more worried that he can't smell it and wondering if somehow it fried his nose, he's heading for the Inn. Finding himself desperate to get out of the clothes, into whatever he can scrounge up that are clear, and do something to clear his senses. Maybe go and dunk his head in the river. Can't hurt at this point given he can smell the soil and greenery around him, but not the strong scent of skunk that he is familiar with.

Though the more he thinks about clean clothes, the more he can think about a lot better things to do once he gets out of them. Especially if he can find someone to help him to get cleaned up. Obviously, he realizes, he's not been handling his time in this place right at all.

TEXT

looking for a large metal tub with lid best. will not be returning

drunk skunk

[quinientos]

Ever since old clothes like he wore back home showed up, Vasquez has been avoiding the scrubs with his life. It's not the same without a gunbelt, and honestly, he finds himself going for it more than once, but the lasso will have to do. Of course, what it means is that he doesn't really do much about wearing the spares when he has to wash the shirt, which is where he is by the river, wringing it out when he sees someone in his peripheral view.

Hand going to the gunbelt (that's not there), he eyes the man warily as he approaches. "You okay, cabron?"

harper mcintyre | the 100

[delinquere]

𝕙𝕖𝕒𝕥 𝕨𝕒𝕧𝕖

Harper is fairly certain she just ate fire because her whole body seems to be on fire as well. She's just added salt to her lunch because it's been a long time since she's had anything seasoned and when in Rome...

Maybe she's in Pompeii because she feels like she's melting.

She's sweaty, fanning herself as she slips outside, plucking her shirt away from her body to see if she get some air on her feverish skin. Is this a heat wave? Is this food poisoning? Is this regular poisoning? It'd be great if she had someone from home here to smack some sense into her, but alas, she'll have to resign herself to asking relative strangers.

"Is it hot in here or...?"

Hot in here, in the outdoors.

𝕥𝕖𝕩𝕥𝕚𝕟𝕘

( @mcintyre )

Tell about your world. In 140 characters or less I guess.

𝕨𝕚𝕝𝕕𝕔𝕒𝕣𝕕

( do what your heart tells you )

heat wave

[nifties]

"It's a little... balmy maybe." Or is it her who's gone balmy? John sizes her up with narrowed eyes, crossing his arms over his chest, still wearing his red scrubs marking him as a newbie. "You alright, luv?"

He doesn't seem overly concerned about her, really, more curious than anything.

onni hotakainen ❄ stand still. stay silent.

[scowlish]

❄ Heat Wave

If you think Onni Hotakainen was stupid enough to eat something he found in this weird place, think again! No one could possibly be that stupid, right? Of course not.

Still, he's been holed up in this stupid inn since he arrived here, where it's too hot and someone had had the nerve to change him into stupid clothes in his sleep and dump him in a fountain, trying to avoid all the people he could avoid whenever he could avoid them. Trip out of Keuruu or not, it isn't like he had any intention of traveling further, and this is just too much. After all, he'd done that for Tuuri and Lalli's sake, and this whole thing is pretty pointless, at least as far as he can tell.

The thing is, the whole time he's been here, he's been refusing to eat. And he's been here for probably around five days now. Which means that the fillet of cooked fish sprinkled with red salt sitting on the counter in the kitchen when he pads down the stairs, barefoot and dressed in rumpled scrubs, is looking very tempting. Tempting enough that when someone enters the room, he barely notices it for staring at the fish and licking his lips - at least until that someone makes a noise.

Jerking his head up and gasping, startled, Onni pins the person with a wide-eyed stare and lifts his hand.

"I was not going to take it!"

❄ Text; @onni

what

[A few seconds later.]

what is this

❄ Wildcard

Onni is going to be hiding in various corners, and possibly trying to find tools to fish with. Maybe he'll admit to wanting to eat it if he caught it himself...

Shoot me a PM if you're interested in something else, and I'll write up a starter for you!

un: bananarama

[spoileralert]

you're gonna have to be more specific there onni onni oxenfree

Tony Stark | MCU

[nonstopnarcissist]

HEAT WAVE

That moment when a driveby bite to eat on the way back to the forge ends up a little hotter than previously anticipated. Tony's had genuine green curry before and that shit is it's own level, but this? If it were cool out or if he was feeling a hike somewhere up in the mountains was a good idea (he wouldn't, that's a shitty, shitty idea) the radiating inner warmth wouldn't be so terrible. Hunched over a forge, turning an ingot over and attempting to hammer it into- well- another hammer head for specialized finishes? Not the best time. The least appropriate time to be overcome and he's halfway through, nowhere near a stopping point but the choices are A) soldier through and try to get this shit done and possibly (most likely) pass out face down on his own anvil which is not a good look.

Or.

Put it away, start over from fresh when he's not melting, and strip down to overturn a bucket of water over his head in hopes that helps. Protip: It don't. The only thing to do is sweat it out as moving only makes it worse, which means being idle, and he hates being idle (hence claiming the blacksmith's as his own in the first place, hello) but ducking into the shaded part of his set up as far from the forge as possible, sketching out future projects is about the best thing he can do. For someone usually not shirtless (scars are a thing, all the surgery in the world can't fix a fucked up sternum twice over) it's only the heat that keeps him from being self conscious. Maybe he'll jog to the fountain if it keeps up, dunk himself in.

After about ten minutes of trying and failing to chill that way? He stalks for the fountain. Nevermind if he looks like an idiot, he's jumping in.


WILDCARD - COMMUNING WITH ANIMALS

It's probably some kind of cheating, but dinner is dinner and Tony is, if nothing else, a man of practical means. Excess means he can barter for tools or raw materials or, if he's feeling particularly indulgent? A bottle of liquor. For emergencies. Or when he's feeling particularly ashamed of himself or something, who the fuck knows. Not him. Still he has a bucket next to him, a line out into the lake, and the ability to just coax the damn things to him. Of course calling fish, specifically, might not be as nuanced a thing as he can handle and other native fauna might start creeping up. Who knows?


TEXT - U.N. The Mechanic

Right, tech wishlists, drop them here. Try to keep these things reasonable. I'm a genius but not a miracle worker.

[freightcars]

how the hell are you planning on cobbling together ipods or toaster ovens here? they've barely got the lights on.

bruce wayne | dceu

[ex_nocturnus343]

Heat Wave:

[ Bruce is too old for this shit. This particular shit being the spicy red salt that he had initially mistaken for actual salt, just with a strange hue. He had, in fact, shaken a bunch on his potatoes in order to improve the flavor. That turned out to be a mistake.

Not that he's never made those. It's just. He's been here for over a month. Some devil salt isn't going to keep him down for long. This is partially the reason he's seated in the shade of a large tree, trying not to gulp down a glass of water, a stack of felled saplings awaiting their eventual fate as bows. And maybe arrows.

Because if that archer guy can make his own weapons, so can a Wayne. ]


Text:

Anyone interested in an expedition north?


Wildcard:

[ hit me. ]

heat wavin'.

[scathefires]

[For once? Jason is actually not here to ruin everything. No, he's minding his own business, passing from point A to point B. Wouldn't really say he's acclimated to living in the village, per se, but he's spent enough time away from Gotham between here and Wonderland to reconcile with the idea that it may be a long, long time before he's able to find a way back. (He doesn't consider if as a factor. He will find a way back, no question.)

It takes Jason a few seconds and a double-take to place the face - Bruce is older than the last time they spoke (ha, if you can count that fight speaking), not wearing one of his fancy-ass suits or the even fancier suit. But when that recognition clicks in Jason's mind, it's like a switch flicking on, and he stops in his tracks, staring angrily at the man seated under the tree, fists clenched at his sides.]

What the hell are you doing here?

[A stupid question, really; what are any of them doing here? Worse, Jason can hear how his voice trembles, and he hates it.]

Ten Thousand | Z Nation

[overfivethousand]

[heat wave.]

Honestly, after surviving off of whatever canned food survived a three-year zombie apocalypse, a diet of Twinkies and canned peaches and the occasional MRE, the food here might as well be gourmet. Not that he'd really know anything fancy if he encountered it; even before the zombies came, 10K's life hadn't exactly been centered around haute cuisine. Your options were kind of limited, living in a cabin in the middle of the woods. But that doesn't mean he's got no taste buds at all, and since he figures he's probably going to be here a while, he might as well try and see what he can contribute to the food situation.

He and his dad had made jerky plenty of times before, usually deer, occasionally moose or chicken, so 10K knows what he's doing. Smoked meat might be a little complicated, but all you really need is salt to dessicate whatever you're drying, and that they've got. In fact, the first batch looks pretty good, he thinks, scraping the layer of salt off. There's a sort of spicy scent to it, almost like a cajun thing, some Old Bay notes. Only thing left to do is taste test, and so he tears off a strip and pops it into his mouth, chewing. At first, he's sure it's a success, and he's ready to prep the rest and take it to the inn, but then the heat kicks in and he realizes he's made a terrible mistake.

It feels like his throat is on fire as he dashes through the town, making a beeline for the fountain. Not just his throat, but his entire face, and he's as red as a tomato when he reaches the stone lip, not even hesitating before he dives in headfirst. Honestly, he's not even worried about how clean the water is. Dying of dysentery might be preferable to the agony he's feeling right now as he surfaces treading water, black hair sticking up in all directions as he gasps for air. How did this all go so wrong???

[wildcard.]

((Come at me. 10K's most comfortable out in the woods away from people, so he'll probably be out there exploring. Want someone with a makeshift slingshot to rescue you from an angry badger knocking down trees? Need someone to helpfully tell you that bush you just shoved through is poison sumac? Got a vegetarian you want to be horrified by the sight of someone efficiently skinning a rabbit? 10K's your boy.))

[text.]

10k: if no one else is gonna say it i'm just gonna say it

aliens.

right? anybody?

un: SPEED

[expeditiousness]

what about them

Niska | Humans

[locum_tenens]

i. power drain

It's become extremely clear to Niska that recharging here is a difficult task, but one that must be accomplished. She had made an attempt with the flowers that gave a shock, but she'd been unable to convert it to the energy she needed to keep her going. Even one of Leo's botched patchwork jobs with her port hadn't worked, which meant that she'd had to turn to using the Inn's electricity.

She feels no guilt, even though she's sure she should. She's staying here, she needs it, it's as simple as that. Therefore, it's hers.

Unfortunately, the building itself might have some disagreements with Niska's claim of its power. She's recharged approximately eighteen percent of her power when she feels a sharp shock of power surge in her side and the lights in the inn flicker out, leaving her to stare upwards at the offending lights. Eighteen percent. That's going to last her approximately thirty-nine hours before she needs to charge again.

Of course, there's also the fact that now the inn is without power. That might be slightly more of an inconvenience, but Niska lights a candle and goes right back to reading her book, ignorant of any distress she might have caused any of the humans living with her.

ii. skunked

There's an animal in front of her that's sprayed her with a strange substance. It resembles a skunk, but not entirely, as if the genus has strayed. The smell is not quite what it should be either. Staring down at it with little emotion on her face, Niska tries to communicate with little more than a glare that she's not pleased.

"Go," she says sharply, watching the skunk amble away.

Tilting her head to the side, she can feel her core processes shifting. It appears that whatever came from the skunk can impact synthetics, leaving her overly open to affection and thoughts of intimacy. Wisps and memories of Astrid rise and Niska closes her eyes for a long moment before she opens them, finding someone now in her path.

"If you're going to remain, you should be warned that I've been sprayed by an overly affectionate skunk," Niska says matter-of-factly, "and that I can't entirely predict the outcome or duration of its effects."

text

where are all the books here? have they been hidden from us?

[Niska's a sentient synth, which basically means she's a robot who's human in all ways but her biology. If you cut her, does she not bleed? Yes, but it's going to be very blue and fluidy]

un: aholland

[houmaprotector]

...No books at all?

[interesting]

Asch the Bloody | Tales of the Abyss

[cinere]

Heat Wave
Asch was used to being warm, over heated even, the uniform of the God Generals was not a cool one. It made little sense why the more he tried to eat the hotter he became. The far to simple outfit he had simply had no reason to make him sweat like this. Even his hair was starting to look a bit damp at the roots.

Still, he had hunted and killed the rabbit he was eating and by the Score he would finish it! Though after his nose started trying to run he pushed the plate away, a hand moved up to rest in his hair holding his head up as the burning went on. Half of him wanted to take off his shirt to try and cool, but the rest of him would never. He kept his head in his hand a few moments before he pushed himself up to go find something to blow his nose with. This place was weird, even by his standards. He looked angry, but he simply has a mean case of resting bitch face.

Texts
@AschtheBloody

Is there an access to a list of plants we are safe to use? This world's flora is not like that in my world.

[real name reads of Luke fon Fabre, thanks observers. ]

[spoileralert]

Steph watches the young man with raised eyebrows. She didn't see him force down an entire thoroughly spiced rabbit, but she can definitely see the after-effects.

"You look like you got smacked in the face. Repeatedly."

Tahani Al-Jamil | The Good Place | Heat Wave

[mean_sexy_giraffe]

Adjusting to life in this barbaric village has been quite the adventure for Tahani, and not the good kind, like the trek to Bono's Mountain Retreat in the Himalayas. Aside from the abhorrent lack of fashion-do's (she swore to herself that she'd never again be on the fashion-don't after that hideous blue and yellow zig-zag getup she was forced to wear in The Good Place), there's nothing even remotely modern! Nothing! Not a thing in sight! What she wouldn't do to get her hands on Chanel's full makeup line, a select number of YSL's skincare products, and a personalized hair treatment.

Oh, and a curling iron.

And her stylist, André, her collection of antique jewelry (some of which was handed down from her godmother, the late Princess Diana of Wales), some caviar, her Balenciaga handbags ..

"Useless!" she shouts to herself as she fiddles with the strange device she's seen people using to feed themselves. A stove, she thinks it's called. She's never used one herself, of course, and so she's at a bit of a loss in how to .. make it make her food for her, like a robot chef (ugh, she'd adore one of those). She pouts as she turns this way and that, attempting to see if she can find someone to aid her - or, ideally, cook for her.

After realizing she's more or less on her own, she drags herself off to one of the food stores, hoping to find something she can .. borrow, for now. Or take for the time being, with all intentions of returning something later on as payment. She finds some kind of smoked meat, sprinkled with something that looks like paprika, or cayenne pepper. A fan of spicy food, her eyes glitter as she breaks off a piece and, with a final secretive glance, she pops the thing into her mouth.

She's half-way out the door of the Inn when the heat finally hits her. It'd been building slowly since she'd first chewed, but now, it was unbearable.

"Oh no! Oh no!" she shouts, tugging at the collar of her ridiculous scrub top as she attempts to fan herself. She can feel the beads of sweat trickling down her temples. "I'd be so much more devastated if I'd a full face of makeup on right now!" A second punch of heat hits her in the gut. "MILK!? DOES ANYONE HAVE ANY MILK?!"

Swamp Thing | DC Comics

[houmaprotector]

Heat Wave

[Plants don't sweat. They just don't. This is not normal under any circumstances. He barely fits in as it is, but his body has responded to how much water he's draining. Is there such a thing as drying out? dying out? That's how he feels.

He cuts a pretty impressive sight tho as he has one hand in a bucket of water and the other rooted to the earth trying to draw as much water into him as he can. If this is what global warming is going to do - I mean I knew it was going to do this but my god.

He digs his roots deeper.

The moment someone comes close to his little area he fixes a red-eyed pleading gaze on them.]

...help...me.

Power Roulette

[Now that I've understood more things - Who wants to play power roulette with the big green swamp creature?]

[nifties]

[ john has been inexplicably "gifted" with a singular ability. not much of a consolation prize when one used to be a most powerful wizard, but beggars, choosers, um. whatever. he pops into the thin air right before alec then, still smiling and laughing as if he'd been talking to someone when he disappeared. he's wearing those stupid red scrubs from when he first arrived in a bloody test tube, longing for his own clothes, but again with the speech. as he opens his eyes properly, he thinks there must've been something extra in that weed. if not, there's something extra in these weeds before him now. ]

I've really got to lay off the psychotropics... for real, this time.

steve harrington ; stranger things

[thebabysittersclub]

Heat Wave

[He would never try to cook anything by himself ever again.

No doubt at least a couple of people see this poor schmuck as he races toward the nearest body of water, stripping off his top as he goes. He's sweating buckets and he feels like he's about to burst into flames and this might be the worst thing that's ever happened to him.

Feel free to chase him down to the water or already be there to watch him shuck off the rest of his scrubs and shoes and just lay down in the shallowest part of the lake in his undies.]

Skunk Drunk

[Steve Harrington has certainly drank before. Being a teen at the top of the social pyramid pretty much guarantees it, after all.

And sure, he's had too much before, regretted it the next day. Par for the course, too.

But this? This is WAY BETTER THAN THAT.

He stumbles down the road with a dopey grin on his face, looking the happiest he's been since his arrival. He crashes into every person he meets, possibly accidentally, and smiles wide when they turn to look at him.]

How you doin'?

text; un: USERNAME

i know we're in like the goddamn dark ages but what do you guys use for hair products around here because water and a comb just ain't cutting it

un: Tina Not-Fae

[morethanasidekick]

Have you seen There's Something About Mary?

[ Kenzi, No! ]

Princess Zelda | Breath of the Wild (18yo)

[heirtonothing]

SKUNK DRUNK

At least Zelda had the good fortune of getting sprayed near the base of the tree. To passersby it only looks as though she's taking a well-earned nap. She did, after all, manage to estimate the maximum distance at which a brown skunk will spray.

When she awakens she feels uncomfortable and dismayed. She was having the most wonderful dream... The kind of dream that, as a princess, she has taught herself to ignore. At least for now she can sit against the tree, try to stretch out her sore neck and shoulders, and think of what could someday be.

AN ILL-ADVISED STUDY

The survival guide mentions the Clematis vines, and the inherent dangers they pose. But it isn't very thorough, and after learning that there is a nearby population of the plants and no good way to combat them aside from aggressive and careful pruning, the princess takes it upon herself to learn more about the nature of this odd plant.

She observes from a safe distance, taking furious notes on everything she sees. She even finds a leftover cutting of the stuff, and uses a long stick to draw it to a safe distance so that she can make closer observations. But the living plants aren't still, and while she has her attention on something else they creep close enough for its pollen to begin to work.

Her notes come slower, she begins to hum distractedly, and the vines wind around her legs. By the time it has a firm grip on her middle she's stopped taking notes entirely, staring instead into the distance with a pleasant smile on her face.

[paidforit]

Skunk Drunk

So the little guy hadn't been up for being dinner. Fair enough. Probably should have tried to hit it from a distance, but she'd learned her lesson, hadn't she? Knocked clean out by a...what was it, a rodent? Something like that.

She was waking up now, regardless, staring up at the sky and groggily coming around to what exactly had laid her out. Well, it wasn't the worst place she could remember waking up in. Small miracles. Her hands slowly scrabbled at the foliage nearby as she hoisted herself unsteadily upwards. Remembering with some degree of difficulty how legs were supposed to function, she squints around at her surroundings. No overgrown chipmunk nearby, and no recollection of which direction she'd come from.

That about figured.

There was also a gnawing sense of...hunger? No. Not quite right. Well, yes, hunger in the sense that she definitely wanted something to chew on. Hang on. Feels like there's a wire being crossed somewhere. Shaking her head and grimacing as she plucked a tiny loose twig from her hair, she starts off in a direction that seems correct. Footsteps and noise mean people.

Yeah. She could definitely use a people right about now. And possibly something to wash this weird taste out of her mouth.



Text - UN: Scrapper-142

So. Who's handling the booze situation and what do you want for it?



Wildcard

[ Whatever you please, hit me up. ]

un: logan

[notan_animal]

there is none. unless you find some leftover potato vodka from the last party at the inn

Jake Jensen - The Losers

[killorder]

Heat Wave

Food is not meant to attack you. You are meant to attack food. Literally that is it. Okay sure, in certain parts of the world that Jake has no interest in ever visiting ever ever again there are foods you eat that some get a kick out of attacking back - and if you swallow living octopuses then maybe you deserve what you get if they try and lodge themselves permanently in your throat - but otherwise, those are the rules.

You attack a meal, it does not bite you back.

So Jake is really becoming concerned when the bowl of soup he kind of sorta snagged from the pot bubbling away on the stove has a definite heat to it. Well, not at first. At first it's welcomed, mostly because it's food he hasn't had to scrounge up, and at this point he'd settle for a case of C-rats from the eighties. Not even MREs but their canned and often just fat and protein in a can that killed more damn John Waynes than most soldiers cared to count rations that hadn't been touched since Jake was a kid. So the soup is a welcome relief.

Except there is no relief. There is just heat, and burn, and sadly hunger and the kind of hyperness that has haunted Jake since grade school means that by the time he starts to realize that it isn't a comfortable, low grade pepper heat but the sort of punishment that came from eating habaneros whole because you think it will impress your latest unit - spoiler alert: it won't and doesn't - he's eaten nearly all of the bowl.

Dropping bowl and spoon into the sink with a clatter, he ducks his head into the sink, turning on the faucet. Lack of long term thinking results in not rinsing away whatever is so caustic in the soup but in water going up his nose, nearly drowning him.

Coming up spluttering and gasping, choking as he tries to draw a breath and clear the water from his lungs at the same time, Jake jerks off his shirt, using it for a towel to try and clean the water out of his eyes. Fuck, that feels a tiny bit better. Cooler, at least. That's a start.

Dropping his shirt on the counter, Jake leans back against it, nudging his shoes off, one foot and then the other. Glancing around, he grips the waistband of his pants, considering how bad of an idea this really is in the middle of the kitchen. Sniffling, the heat flares up again, his body sheened in sweat, and with a curse under his breath, Jake shoves his pants down around his ankles, stepping out of them and dropping them on the counter with his shirt before heading for the door.

He'll come back for them later. When he's cooler and not likely to have whatever polyester levels that might be in them literally bonding to his flesh.

Text - un: oneeyedjack

[Incapable of chill, the message come rapid fire in the course of a few minutes.]

srsly tho wat yr is it? this tech makes dinos lok nu n fresh

a 4 yo with a leapfrog could hack this shit

my niece could bld this w legos n awatch

no voice even. could spoof any1

thats not a bad way 2 spend my afternoon

whats the point of a nu un if any1 cn see ur rn?

[It may actually go on for a while. Oops.]

heat wave

[thecatinahat]

Cougar's used to being on missions with Jake. He knows what it means -- long rambling bouts of idiocy broken in with some genius, a lot of abuse of classic songs, and the nudity. With a sigh, Cougar remembers how many times Roque had threatened to cut off parts of Jake's anatomy if the nudity continued and how many times he'd had to pointedly clean his gun while the barrel pointed straight at the man.

When he peers out from his sightline from where he's perched on a roof with a set of binoculars and sees Jake wandering out into the wild wearing so little, he rolls his eyes and starts a dismount before someone gets it in their head to pick a fight with his idiot friend.

He shimmies his way down a drain pipe and starts briskly walking towards Jake, picking up someone's drying clothes on his way so that as soon as he gets close enough, he can throw it at Jake, brows raising up to the hat line (there'd been a tarp hat here, strangely enough, like it's meant just for him), before a tip of his head to the side.

In Cougar-ese, which Jake is fluent in, he'll understand the very pointed, Put some fucking clothes on before someone decides to have an issue.

Wynonna Earp | (About s3e2 or so)

[unraisehell]

Heat Wave

She could handle a little extra spice, she'd said. Just an extra pinch mixed in to the regular salt around the rim of the closest thing she could make here to a Ceaser (look, if you know the ingredients in the original, you probably don't want to know what she used to make it here, so don't ask).

"Ugh, where's all that goddamn snow when you need it. Water. Need some water, here!" she calls out to anyone within ear shot, pulling at the collar of her shirt to fan herself.

Skunk Drunk (And Also Regular Drunk)

Honestly, it was easier for her reputation if, after stumbling out of the woods, she just grabbed the nearest bottle of whiskey and made like she got this way all by her lonesome, with no help from a cute fuzzy thing she'd startled out of the bushes.

"Eat a dick," she shoots back at someone muttering something judgmental to their friends as she sways by them, hand going to her hip where Peacemaker should be. Stupid extra-dimensional kidnappers not trusting her with a firearm. She was allowed have her gun back home and that was Canada.

Texts, username Earp

The little dog monsters are actually kinda cute, and less chompy than normal tiny dogs. Y/N?

Wildcard

Throw something else at me.

un: anarchist hotdog

[oorah]

the crocdogs? they are kinda cute aren't they?