etcelsior | not in my house

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not in my house

TEST DRIVE MEME

Considering apping into MASK OR MENACE? Want to dip your toes into the setting and get a feel of whether your character will fit into it? Or maybe you're just cruising and want to play around? Then you've come to the right place!

Pick any of the following scenarios below or feel free to make up your own, but don't be afraid to throw yourself at anyone's thread, either!

And remember to have fun!

01. Your memory is hazy and you might feel increasingly frustrated or anxious, or maybe you're excited as soldiers march past, barely glimpsing you. One second you're somewhere underground, the next you're enveloped in blue light, and suddenly you find yourself directly under Flordia sun's bright and burning glare. A female soldier steps toward you with a wide smile on her face and directs you to a car, ready to debrief you. You realize you are not the only one, surrounded by equally confused or eager faces... and you're all sporting a digital tattoo on your wrist.

02. Welcome to Cape Canaveral, where the smell of the ocean is in the air and locals are more than pleased to see new imPorts roaming their streets. They wave, they cheer, they ask for pictures as politely as they can. The more inhuman you look, or if you're wearing a costume, the more likely locals are to approach. Hey, enjoy the moment! The popular malt shop is offering you a free drink if you need it.

03. The technology in this world is certainly something. The cars are clearly modeled after popular 50s cars, but they hover several feet above the ground as they drive down the street. There are digital jukeboxes in restaurants, motorcycles also hover through traffic, advertisements can be seen on a digital projector on the taller buildings. Even kids on skateboards appear to drift a safe ten feet off the ground while playing!

04. Wherever you are, you can hear the loud revving of an engine, distance at first before you finally see it: a hovercar bursting around the corner, going beyond the maximum speed limit and just barely making its sharp turn. It doesn't appear to be slowing down any time soon, not with two police cars trailing it... and uh oh. Those skateboarding kids don't have much time to get out of the way as the car comes speeding down the road. You've been brought here for a reason Hero — so you better act fast.

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[ Marco has been here for almost two months. That's two months too long, in his opinion.

But still, he's gotta keep an eye out. No other Animorphs appeared since he arrived, which worried him a bit. Will he say it? Of course not, other than a jib of taking their sweet time when he finds them.

If he finds them, that is.

Either way, Marco is actually leaning against a lamppost like some outcast in a high school drama show, eating what is probably this world's equivalent of Twizzlers. When he sees a newcomer (obvious to notice, with the continual look of befuddlement and confusion on their faces) he would just raise his hand (and Twizzlers knock-off) in greeting. ]

New here?

Edited 2014-10-26 01:51 (UTC)

Pictures weren't the only thing that was new.

It happened to be the only thing he could really recall about his first ten minutes out on the street though because he'd been stopped by no less than three people since he got here. Every time one of them started to take a picture a bunch of other people started to crowd around him, cheering and taking photos. There were whispers, and comments that he couldn't make out but they were gone as soon as they had arrived, moving on toward some other guy across the street that looked just as baffled as him. Or that other person who was drinking it all in.

So, he got the idea - heroes. Fighting crime. Saving good guys. Beating the bad guys. He hadn't done anything yet, but it was difficult not to let pride swell in his chest. Maybe they already knew who he was? Uh. Somehow. Even though he'd seen the flash of words on his wrist he didn't think anyone else had, and he hadn't seen anyone else he knew. Hadn't had enough time to come to terms with the crazy stuff that was going on around him. The sights, the smells, the flying... chair things, the buildings, the people.

For the first time in a long time, he felt disoriented and not because he'd taken a hit to the head.

Naruto wasn't prepared to let it deter him though. He was hungry, food was a good idea and he could talk to whoever was there about the pictures and the flying chairs. Right?

Edited 2014-10-25 22:26 (UTC)

3 - Early Canon Point Option

[Those skateboards seem like a lot of fun, and Spike's ride wasn't transported with him. He's smoking a cigarette and watching the kids skateboard until one comes a bit closer, then he jumps up and grabs the skateboard, yanking it down and letting the kid keep moving as gravity and inertia will take him. He probably shouldn't be amused by the kid's grunts of pain, but really, the boy isn't even bleeding. He probably shouldn't be out this late anyway.

Spike drops the cigarette on the ground and steps onto the skateboard. It's not as stable as he might have hoped, but he has vampire grace to help with that.

Even so, he'll definitely be falling off a time or two before he masters it.]

4 - Late Canon Point Option

[The speeding car doesn't worry Spike too much. He's been hit by cars before. It's unpleasant, but he'll live. Besides, he can probably outrun it and get the kids out of the way if he starts running now.

The much bigger problem is that blazing sun beating down on the street just feet away from his shady corner. But he's running out of options, and the kids are running out of time without another savior in sight.]

Oh... bloody hell.

[He makes a break for it, already starting to smoke the second his flesh hits the light. By the time he reaches the street, he's on fire. He manages to shove the kids out of the way before the car hits him, sending him flying. Mercifully, he lands in the shade of another building. He does love cities for the way the tall buildings on each side make it so easy to avoid direct sunlight. He crumples to the ground and pulls out his flask. Onlookers are staring. He's not being a very good role model.

He struggles to sit up and holds up his flask, giving a pained grin.]

Cheers.

[And he drinks. He bloody well deserves it.]

[ Man, did the Porter ever fuck up on this one. It's very obvious this child can't be more than ten, and an undernourished ten at that, so it's a good thing they're giving out malts so freely! The girl hunched up on this particular cherry-red stool is about 4 feet nothing, skinny as a popsicle stick but for the giant puff of cotton candy-dimensioned hair topping her body off, and so mad, guys. So mad, in fact, she's going to mutter under her breath like a grumpy old man once her server wanders off, apparently unaware of the fact that people can very easily hear her. ]

-- a hero? What's that supposed to mean, anyway? It definitely can't be right. Absolutely not!

[ She punctuates this tirade by taking a long drag off a milkshake approximately the size of her head. The shake wasn't what Hana asked for -- really, she was hoping she could get a coconut or something -- but it is what the matronly woman behind the countertop decided was the next best thing after spotting her tattoo. Also a byproduct of local generosity: the stupid paper soda jerk hat on top of her fluffy head, which was deemed "just adorable."

She seriously considered giving it to someone else first, just in case it's drugged. But she watched her make it... if there's anything in there, everyone else here is probably drinking it too. Not that that's really much comfort. ]

Even the time's all wrong...

[ Everything about it is wrong! So why? It's a question Hana can't answer. She's always had a lot of those, but they usually don't come with brainfreeze. Speaking of which, ow. ]

2. [It's not quite as disorienting as waking up in his coffin, clawing his way up through the cold soil--but if Kieren had to rank the experiences, they'd come close.

He hasn't touched his cover-up mousse in a while, or put his contact lenses in, but as he wanders the streets, trying to get his bearings, he realizes that the staring is because he's PDS--the pin-prick eyes, pale skin, blue lips and veins, all inhuman--but there's no fear or apprehension accompanying it. After the first cheery photo request, which he's too startled to say no to, blinking away the residual flashbulb going off behind his eyes as he stumbles away, Kieren suddenly wishes he could go incognito, blend in with the locals.

Drawing up the hood of his sweatshirt will have to do, for the moment. He keeps his head down as he pushes open the doors of the malt shop, sitting down at a table and not even bothering to look at the menu. There's no point, since he can't actually drink anything.]

Just--a water, please. Thanks.

[ All right, admittedly, Cupid hadn't paid much attention to, say, anything that'd been going on. His wrist felt strange, but it wasn't the only thing feeling strange at the time - what the heck kind of architecture was this place? - and he'd been more concerned to get topside out into the air than he was to, well, wondering at the odd costumes that were even less Greek ~~or Roman as often his universe is concerned~~ than usual.

Only he learned very, very fast that some of the easiest things in the world for him to do were surprisingly... not... easy. Like teleporting where he wanted: he thought "Greece," he ended up standing next to some spitting torture machine by a man in a tiny hat who had screeched and dropped his metal basket into the hissing, boiling oil there-in.

"Grease" wasn't what he had in mind. Way not cool.

So he ends up back on base, shirtless, white wings out and visible on his back, in the middle of a crowd of people with a crossbow and arrows on hand, shouting up to the sky: ]

Mom, if this has anything to do with you, I'm telling you right now - not cool!

[ Though his mom really shouldn't be capable of this... has he pissed off anyone else in Olympus lately? Normally, the god of love doesn't get shunted anywhere except when butting heads with Aphrodite... ]

Edited 2014-10-25 22:51 (UTC)

option ii:

[ To say he was entirely used to Midgardian culture would be an outright lie. To say he could fake it enough by now would be closer to the truth. Sure, there are still some things he doesn't particularly get, but he'll figure it out. Observing or asking or both. By this point in Thor's life he's learned that no shame lies within questions.

If there's anything odd about locals making a fuss over him, he wouldn't really know. It's par for the course to get stares and strange looks while on Midgard; certainly used to accolades and being approached while in Asgard. It's all par for the course in the day of one Thor Odinson. And it's fun, really, being approached by strangers of all ages and posing for photographs or sharing a conversation or two. In the grand scheme of things, it makes him feel far less lonely. And that, as it happens, is something important.

He can't say he's in the know of what malts are, but according to the last young maiden he'd spoken with, he'd learned they were a "totally awesome" cold beverage. Well, he certainly can't say no to something like that, can he?

No, he cannot!

After finding the right venue, fighting to fit inside a booth and eventually just giving up that particular ghost, he takes up shop at the counter and clearly enjoying himself, Mjolnir lavishly treated to the stool next to him.

And, look. He's not even throwing anything on the floor. ]

option iv:

[ It's not that he believes himself a hero; certainly not after all the things he's done in his life and the things he will undoubtedly do in the future. However, he believes in doing what's right, in lending aid when the moment arises.

A moment, it seems, that comes up quicker than he would have expected.

He sees the children and the fast approaching car, unsure if he can possibly make it. Doesn't mean he's not going to try. (For a moment Thor contemplates hurling Mjolnir at the car itself, but as learned a thing or two about destruction and figures that likely isn't the best way to make a lasting good impression upon these people, so he opts for the other option.) Speed, when not using his hammer, isn't always on his side, but he still manages to get there in time, hands reaching out to grab both children by the backs of their shirts, ducking and rolling with them to safety. ]

It would do you well to remain out of roadways lest you find yourself without a limb.

TWO.
He can't get over why there's no face on the sun and it's very distracting, but Cape Canaveral seems pleasant enough otherwise, aside from the who deposition into presumed heroics part aside. Kid's not sure how they got him here, or how they didn't get Liz and Patty at the same time. He's certainly got no interest in swearing allegiance to any organization other than Shibusen, and certainly not one that starts its alliance by kidnapping half of partnership. Really, that's just common sense and good manners.

"Excuse me," he said, stopping someone on the street. "Could you direct me to the nearest governmental office?"

THREE.
Those kids aren't the only ones with their snazzy flying skateboards, and Kid is using his to scope out the area from the air. Seeing the dichotomy of old style and new technology piques his interest, but the heightened stress of being trapped in an unfamiliar place is making him notice all sorts of things he'd usually try to ignore.

Which is why he's landed next to a very vintage, very expensive car and pulled one of the side mirrors clean off, and is now trying to reattach it critically, mumbling the whole time about "terrible alignments".

Edited 2014-10-25 22:55 (UTC)

[ The ocean air smelled and felt nice. A child, no older than 11 is looking around almost aimlessly, but she never wanders too far from the area. She wasn't used to being able to be on her own, nor was she used to being outside at this point in time. Every-so-often she'd looking around, as though looking for someone in particular.

While she hadn't wandered very far around the area, she was able to get a free drink from the malt shop. It was only after that some of the locals had asked for a picture, where she'd happily agree with a "'kay."

A hero, though? She'd become used to the opposite idea. The idea seemed far more pleasant than where she was before. She hadn't had a chance to question it.

If she spots your character, she'll reach over and tug at their clothing, looking to them curiously. ]

Hey, Mister. Tell me more about this place? [ Or Miss, if your character is female. ]

Edited 2014-10-25 23:02 (UTC)

[ It isn't to say that he hadn't seen Thor so casually enjoying a malt before, but the fact of the matter was, he did it so brazenly that it was hard to ignore the old -- to him -- compatriot. Not that they got along, or that he wasn't going to approach with caution. Especially considering earlier interactions -- both here and recently at home.

Well, he had cloned the guy. He suspected that there was an alright reason to be annoyed, but he figured eventually he'd get over it, or maybe he wouldn't recognize him at all.

That would be ideal. ]

So -- [ He says, sliding into a seat nearby, but giving a single seat's berth (the one on the opposite side of mjolnir) ] You like the fare or is it not as good as what you can get in Asgard?

2.

[It doesn't smell like Barry Island, and Tom doesn't look much like a superhero. But folks are nice enough to him, even if some of them find it a little hard to follow along when he asks them a question. It's probably for the best, when a good deal of them are about the devil.

He's gonna find that old man. Kick him in the teeth, no apologies. And then again for Alex and Hal.

For awhile he just wanders the streets on his own, eventually turning up at the malt shop.]

For free? Really? Ah thanks, mate.

[Whether this is all real or a dream, Tom is thirsty and milkshakes are his favorite. He sucks it through the straw, quickly hisses and presses a palm against his forehead. See, this is what happens when no one's around to tell him not to drink too fast. Brain freeze.]

02.
[Waking up with a foggy head, in an unfamiliar area, surrounded by unfamiliar faces, being informed about an unfamiliar new lifestyle actually feels distressingly familiar. A pervasive feeling of dread and maybe a little queasiness flows through him. It's amazing how this can be even more disorienting than what happened before.

Whenever things are confusing, however... there's only one clear way to get things back in line. Ishimaru moves swiftly, with his expression stern and back straight, moving straight in front of the first person he sees.]

You there! I need you to give me all the information you can provide on this place, immediately!

[He pulls out a notepad and pen from his pocket, while making very intense eye contact.]

I'll be taking notes for future reference, so make sure not to leave any details out! This is of utmost importance!

Edited 2014-10-25 23:22 (UTC)

[Kieren is still adjusting to the fact that it's not just the living and PDS, here--that there are normal and not-so-normal people with powers, as they'd called it. He wonders if this is what it was like for the people of Roarton during the Rising, realizing that the undead, all those things that go bump in the night, weren't just figments of their imagination.

Slightly less maiming and killing in Florida so far, though.

He watches with fascination as Spike starts smoking--literally--and waits until the crowd's died down a little before he approaches him, awkwardly.]

Are you all right? You were looking a little... [Kieren's brow knits, lips pursed as he tries to come up with an appropriate word and not really succeeding.] ...crispy.

[ well! this is all very- not how she imagined things would be like, after making that last decision, shoving Thomas out of the way and- yeah. some part of her wants to be hiding out in some closed off little area, away from the world ( whatever world this is, because it can't be hers and boy, isn't that the most confusing thing in the world? ) so she can scream and cry over what happened, how things turned out. but a much bigger part of her is too curious to let herself focus on the emotional ??? she's feeling right now, her curiosity for the unknown making it impossible to break down in whatever way. which is probably for the best! the information she got from the car-briefing is still swimming around in the back of her head, but she's still wandering around like a tourist, she's sure, her eyes moving too quickly to try and take everything in, every car and shop window filled with gadgets that wouldn't make sense in her world, don't exist, or exist in a totally different way.

she's only pulled out of her "ooo, what's that?" daze when she hears the sound of those tires screeching around the corner just up ahead, sirens blaring not too long after. maybe her adrenaline's still pumping from the fight she just came out of back home, but she spins 180 to shout- ]

Hey!

[ because she knows there were kids playing back there at the other end of the road ( she stopped to try and see if their skateboards were anything like something she might've seen back home ) and the street isn't long enough and the car's moving too fast and this- is stupid-! but she's dead already, isn't she? ( whoa, let's not focus on that ) so it doesn't feel like such a risk, running out into the street as the car barrels closer. if anything, she's hoping they'll stop. they have to slam on the breaks, at least, right? who wouldn't?

apparently, this guy wouldn't.

but again, Teresa's working with the assumption that either a) this isn't real, or b) this is some crazy afterlife that her brain managed to cook up after ..everything, so. she turns away from the car, not exactly wanting to be hit head on, but- well, it doesn't really work out that way, anyway. the car makes impact, but instead of throwing her forward or even shoving her to the ground, her feet dig into the concrete. which kind of hurts, but not in the way she, uh, imagined it would. it feels like a person is pushing against her, not a car. so in the split second it takes her to realize the impact didn't kill me, she leans her shoulder into the force, pitching her weight and shoving back.

which makes no logical sense at all, but neither is the fact that her boots are carving tracks into the street and she's actually slowing the car in front of her down until eventually, it stops. the sirens are too loud and the driver is getting out of his car, red-faced and pulling out some kind of weapon behind him, but she's not sticking around to get a good look at. maybe the cops intercept the guy, maybe they don't, but Teresa's taking off in a sprint before she has a chance to see for herself. ]

[ ooc; i'm cool with someone stopping her before she gets too far, or someone noticing her pacing around going "WhAAAAAT??" to herself a few blocks away, or... pretty much anything! anything is good too. working with the assumed power of supa strength, for now. just 'cause. ]

Edited 2014-10-25 23:27 (UTC)

[Either later in the day or the next day entirely, Killua has taken to showing Alluka around the city. He holds her hand as they walk, a bag of halloween candy in his other from the shop they'd just visited.

The fact that he'd completely forgotten about her still plagues him, but he shoves it aside for now, smiling her way.]

Say, Alluka. Do you want to meet a friend of mine?

[ Doesn't matter that he's been given a clean suit. Doesn't matter that it's a beautiful day. Doesn't matter that he's got an iced coffee just sitting there melting, or that he's probably getting a sunburn on his head that'll make him sorry. Doesn't matter what's good, or what's bad, because none of it is home. That puts it on a level with words he doesn't know. Florida doesn't even sum it up, and it's pretty bad on it's own.

Despite sitting out in the sun in his wheelchair, he's not lounging. He's not sitting like a guy would on a park bench, but instead like anyone might at an office desk. He isn't looking around with a casual front, although there is a newspaper. It's just a crumpled mess on the sidewalk beside him, the bullshit inside only further proof that none of this can be real. But even if it might feel like a dream, he isn't treating it like one. He's looking at everyone like they're a potential enemy (they are), and coming to terms with the realization he may not see his wife for a long time. That's the entire reason he had to leave the building in the first place: making too big of a scene over Marie's whereabouts. The jags thought he'd just cooperate because he can't walk on his own? He can still fire a gun.

Sucking air in through his teeth, he scratches angrily at the spot on his wrist they chose to violate, even if the tattoo isn't visible right now. He doesn't even want to think about what other Frankenstein crap they tried on him. His file wasn't reassuring. Working for the government doesn't entail this level of BS, that much he knows, no matter what Hollywood likes to dazzle laymen with. It's left him completely stuck on how to proceed.

Just when he'd finally had his motivation jump-started again, with Marie's tentative smile still alive in his memory and the Los Pollos logo sitting right in front of him, he's suddenly in the land of nod and unicorns, except these unicorns are just people with super powers. Supposedly. His inner child can't even get any enjoyment out of the prospects, not with everything he is invested in the life he had.

Fuck 'em. This isn't his government. Is it? Fuck. What he wouldn't give for a cigar and his wife's nagging opinions. ]

Edited 2014-10-25 23:36 (UTC)

[The shitty thing about having a time limit on your powers is...well, having a time limit on your powers. There's only so long three minutes and forty five seconds can stretch, even when you're capable of moving a hundred times faster than most people.

He sees the scene from some distance away and takes off running as fast as he can (which is pretty fast for a man in his late thirties, but still has nothing on a car), but even as he's pushing himself to go faster dammit, he can already tell he's not going to make it. Luckily, someone else takes the initiative, and--

...Kotetsu is momentarily stopped in his tracks by the sight of the man catching fire before being thrown by the car. The light changes to red just about then, and Kotetsu dashes off across the street to where Spike is half-sitting.]

Shit, you okay?

[...]

Scratch that, stupid question. Can I give you a lift to the hospital?

[ She's picked up a weird habit of visiting the malt shop at least twice a week. They even know her by name now, and Mitchell's bit of extra spending money tends to disappear into the ice cream confections she treats herself with. She can eat them now, so why shouldn't she?

All it means is that she's coming into the shop (which is busy as usual; this is arrival time, isn't it?) with it's little door chime, smiling her way up to the counter and perusing the options to start with. It also means she isn't recognizing anyone else in the shop, even for the homey, familiar type of accent. There aren't too many here in America, after all. ]

Strawberry and chocolate scoops for me, thanks.

2;

[ It's amazing being back on Earth, even if it may not be his Earth. Flash wanders the streets and greets the locals with an easy grin and relaxed waves. He lets them take all the pictures they want, and it's clear that this is a man who knows how to work a camera and charm a crowd.

Still, the fact that Doc and Dale are nowhere to be seen worries him. It's a ball of stress in the pit of his stomach that prevents him from enjoying the sun and the surf to the fullest. Every few minutes he looks up at the sky, and this time he almost runs into the nearest person on the sidewalk. ]

— oh, jeez, sorry. Wasn't looking where I was going! Are you okay?

You. [There's a fist coming for Tom's face right now. A left fist. From an angry looking man in a leather motorcycle jacket. He gives his hand a slightly unhappy look, but doesn't back down.] What are you up to now, then?

Edited 2014-10-25 23:37 (UTC)

[Kieren's mostly keeping to himself, in the malt shop, doing his best to observe and people-watch without being noticed. But he can't help the smile that tugs at his lips as he watches Tom eagerly suck down his milkshake, because it's been years since he's enjoyed one but he still remembers what that's like. The brain freeze thing.]

You'll enjoy it more if you slow down a little.

[Says the guy who just has a sad, untouched glass of water in front of him.]

[Now here's something that might catch Hank's attention: A little ways down the sidewalk, something is happening. A ruckus, one might say. Something that's causing women to squeal excitedly — but it's not the squeal of young, nubile women, no. This is not the squeal one would hear at a TeenBoyHeartthrob concert. This? This is more like the sound of hungry crows about to feast.

This is the squeal of middle-aged women. Of 50 Shades of Gray-readers. Of daytime TV-watchers.

And boy, are they excited to see Judge Goodman in their midst.

In case Hank can't see Saul's smug face from his vantage point, he's sure to pick up on that unmistakable timbre; Saul has to be loud to calm his adoring fans down, after all.]

Ladies, ladies!

[And there's that laugh.]

One at a time, please!

[Hank Schrader, welcome to your nightmare.]

[Kotetsu doesn't generally come out to Cape Canaveral at new arrival time--he's usually busy either at his actual job or out doing his hero thing, and he'd get a chance to see most of them at the swear-in anyway, but he happens to be in the area today and sees the familiar crowds that signal the Porter has just spat out its new batch, so he takes a detour on the way heading back to Heropa, and approaches one of the younger imPorts he sees, adopting a friendly grin.]

Hey, welcome to Florida. You looking for the malt shop, or just taking everything in?

[After all, he hasn't forgotten the free drinks they offer to newly imPorted people.]

[ As soon as Alluka takes in his words, her face lights up. She nods, eager.

She was ecstatic to be with Killua again, and now even more so to meet someone whom he could consider a friend. ]

Yeah, I really want to!

Edited 2014-10-25 23:51 (UTC)

He finally went completely out of his mind. That was the only thing he could think of to explain what he was seeing. He was very cagey anyway, but to run across so many familiar things but still be completely stumped by them does not make matters better. If only the damned carp hadn't stolen his sword again. As it was, Adam was watching everything with a wary eye. Unfortunately, the longer he stood absorbing the atmosphere, the more he had to admit all of this was real.

The only upside he can find is that since this place does bear some resemblance to a world he knows, maybe he will find a way to assimilate. Once his head stopped spinning.

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Page 1 of 41

not in my house

Marco | Animorphs

2

Spike | Buffy the Vampire Slayer

hana morenos | michiko and hatchin | 2

kieren walker | in the flesh

2 (technically) but wildcard anywhere | Cupid | Hercules/Xena: Warrior Princess

thor ★ mcu

Death the Kid || Soul Eater

Alluka Zoldyck l Hunter x Hunter ( two )

ii.

tom mcnair | being human (uk)

Kiyotaka Ishimaru | Dangan Ronpa

4

teresa agnes ₪ tmr ( book 3 spoilers )

saves the heartbreak for in game

hank schrader | breaking bad | (2)

4!

no subject

Flash | Flash Gordon

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

Adam Monroe | Heroes | Option 3