TEST DRIVE ∞ May 2025

[thediadem]

Test Drive ∞ May 2025

The First Collision

©

Jump ⇅ :: Arrival — Panorama — Fringes — Invite Request

The Diadem is an invite-only panfandom game set in a retro-futuristic world where uprooted souls find themselves deep within an eerie wasteland of roads and highways frequently assailed by cosmic storms. Three united strongholds keep the population. Its capital is Panorama, a large metropolis at the planet's center.

Soon, you realize you aren't alone. Calling themselves fluxdrifts, the "locals" have similar stories to you, either for themselves or their ancestry. You speak to an old woman who claims she hailed from another star. You meet a young man who says his great-great-grandfather knew a strange language everybody spoke "back home." As you explore, you stumble across a coin you recognize or your sister's locket. How did it get here? What does this mean? That's for you to discover.

But first, you need to find a ride.

No invites needed to play on the TDM. Everyone's welcome! Use the Invite Request thread below to request an invite from another player.

∞ Summary ∞

IC-wise, arrivals are scattered throughout the month. Events described on the TDM are also ongoing throughout the month. If you'd rather jump right into the action, you're free to begin in media res with your character having already been on the planet for several days.

Post-impact, characters will wake up in a med tent by the Scrapyard. From there, they must accept a vehicle on loan and make the 2-hour drive to the nearest city, Panorama. If they refuse the car because they don't want the loan, they'll be in debt for medical bills instead...so just take the car. It'll come in handy.

Some things to keep in mind when bringing in your character:

• Pick an injury. At minimum, they got knocked out; at most, whatever they can recover from. Medicine is decently advanced so they'll heal faster if not painlessly.
• Decide items kept. Reasonable items on their person only: photos, keys, clothes, costumes. No pets or animal companions. Wildly out-of-place tech and personal cell phones will be damaged beyond repair.
• Select a weapon. Do this only if eligible. Guidelines about weapons and powers are on the FAQ.
• Choose a vehicle. Decide whether your character gets 2-3 options or if they're stuck with something they hate. Players can pick directly from our collection or source their own images. Anything under a similar aesthetic will work. If your character needs accommodations for driving, they can have them. Ask us for details.
• Get a phone. Characters have to obtain a phone (and a SIM card) themselves. If they've got one from home, it's damaged beyond repair. Phones are cheap. It'll only take a couple of weeks to afford one. You need to know the number before you text or call anyone. Read about phones and the Forum before you hop on it.

TDM threads can be canon if characters are accepted. Top-levels made to the TDM should be open to all.

TDM Questions? Here — Game Questions? FAQ

Setting — Taken — Reserves — Applications ::: ⇅ Top

Fluxdrift

Arrival & Introduction

Date: Throughout May

You've tumbled over a cliff. You were fighting for your life. You're on the cusp of death. You slipped in the shower. Whatever the catalyst, you struggle to cling to consciousness. As darkness overtakes you, a swirling vortex warps light and shadow in a way that defies all physics. A dark wail etches into your very bones. You couldn't describe it if you tried. You can barely comprehend what it is.

Then you open your eyes.

Through the figure's mask ©, you swear the face is grinning down at you. The tent you're in smells of antiseptic, and scratchy blankets line your cot. Injuries you've sustained have been bandaged. In the corner, you spot a MedBot that's fixed you up. Depending on the extent of your injuries, the doctor on duty might give you some painkillers before you go. Thankfully, your belongings are by the exit. Sorry if anything's damaged. Your landing was pretty rough.

You follow the figure outside. They are Yom Crook, here to lend a hand to fellow fluxdrifts like yourself. Their car's parked beside them. Actually, there are lots of cars around, but Yom Crook's stands out with its painted shark mouth. They explain they found you, unconscious, in a diffusion zone and brought you here. The nearest city is a 2-hour drive northeast. Forget about walking. You'll never make it. Also, you owe the doctor a lot of money for patching you up. But you're in luck: they've got some wheels for you and if you accept the vehicle on loan, Yom Crook will cover your medical bills. That's a good deal, right? It's not the shiniest car or motorcycle, but it'll do. If fortune favors, you'll get to choose between two or three options. Plus, if you need accommodations to drive—like adjustments to your seat height or modified controls—you'll receive all that for free.

Take the vehicle. (And the loan.) Yom Crook assures you that you'll have six months before collectors come around. Any time you're ready to pay a part of it down, return here to the Scrapyard. You'll get a receipt and everything. Paying off the loan in six months isn't impossible, but it will take a lot of work. Just don't get too lax. There's a good chance you'll be juggling multiple loans as you try to get by.

You either know how to drive, or you'll have a bare-bones manual to get you started. Road rules are more a suggestion than enforced, so just hit the pedal and go. The car has some basic features. The built-in compass will help you navigate.

OPTIONAL PROMPTS: a flat tire; a body on the road (is it a trap?); a fender bender

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Panorama

Explore & Settle In

Conditions: Warm spring temperatures, light showers

After 2 hours on the road, you find civilization. The largest of the strongholds, Panorama is where the economy thrives. Massive power plants glowing red make it visible from a distance. The city is divided into three districts. For now, you can access the Pavilion and the Blocks. Don't worry about the Sanctum; they're not letting you in.

You only need to know two things about Panorama: 1) it's big, the size of a modern metropolis, and you'll need your car to get around; 2) anything goes as long as you don't pick a fight with the wrong person. Street smarts will get you far. Despite its geographical size, the population isn't huge. With roughly a million people in a city designed for over twice that number, Panorama is far from deserted, but nor is it overcrowded. It's a good thing. Resources are limited as it is.

The Pavilion: Free Samples

©

Like any large city, Panorama features a couple of supermarkets. The stock's not as consistent as a proper supermarket. On occasion, shelves can remain cleaned out for a week or two. Regardless, the long tradition of free samples remains. If you're not already shopping, you'll notice the crowded parking lot and clusters of lines inside.

Try samples, push through the crowds as you shop, or give yourself a five-finger discount. If you're cautious, you can pocket a few small items without consequences. The Pavillion doesn't have the infrastructure for surveillance; unless someone sees you, you won't be caught. Steal from the store or pilfer someone's wallet. Maybe you even make a new friend if you bump into another fluxdrift. Or, start a fight with somebody who cut you off in the cheese line. Don't make too much of a ruckus, or you'll be thrown out.

As you look around, you'll see posters advertising temporary positions for the cash register or graveyard shifts in the warehouse. Seems they might've lost several employees recently (how'd that happen?), which is good for you! It's just a 6-week position, but it'll get you on your feet. The city has temporary positions like this all over. Permanent ones are harder to come by when you're new.

Samples include: steamed cabbage dumplings, synthetic cherry juice, cheddar cheese, and chocolate-covered alien eggs (it's crunchy and weirdly tasty). They're served in the usual throwaway paper cups with little toothpicks.

The Blocks: Power Outage

©

Power's finicky in Panorama, especially in the Blocks. Saint Margery's Hospital, located in the same area, has priority for power so the first to go are the motels. Maybe you've been in your room for a couple of weeks, maybe you just got here—and by the way, every motel desk is happy to put the fee on your tab if you don't have the money upfront—but all the motels on the east side are in a blackout, leaving only the west side motels up and running.

What do you do? You have three choices:

• Risk leaving your room and head to the other side where there's power. Knock on some doors and negotiate with another to share the room. They might shut the door in your face, ask for a favor in return, or be nice enough to help you with no strings attached. There's no guarantee your unattended room will be untouched, though, and you'll be on the hook for any damages an intruder causes.
• Sit in the dark and deal. It's not the worst idea, but the TV's down, the vending machines are powered down, and with the entire place plunged into darkness, you risk getting robbed. If you struggle with defending yourself, you might want to find some trustworthy company. You can also sneak out of there and let them take your leftover pizza. It's not like you've got a ton of valuables, right? Plus, clobbering someone in the face with a frying pan sounds great until you realize you've gotta do something with the body. And what if this person's got a friend waiting?
• Get in your car and drive (or grab a friend for a road trip). If you scroll the Forum, you might notice reports on diffusion zones southward. Besides, these motels are hardly your forever home. The city can only provide so much. Why not go for a ride and see what you can find out there?

OPTIONAL PROMPTS: clean up on aisle 3 (what is that goo?); a knock at your door but no one's there; you hear screaming or a commotion down the hall

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©

The Fringes

Quad 3: Lockdown

Conditions: Stormy, with flooding roads

Felix Bjurstrom
> Date: 125-05-17
> Time: 02:15:57

> Emergency road lights have been reported in Quadrant 3! Please, can someone go see what's there? When last we chasers investigated emergency lights, a whole truck filled with sour candy had tipped over. Our stores were stocked for weeks! Oh, be careful - reception looks bad in that zone.

Whether you end up here on your own or you were following a tip on the Forum, the outcome is the same: you come to a stop in front of a 2-story office building that's flooded several inches deep. Emergency lights from a roadblock flicker through the stormy night. Stepping out of your car, you're soaked within seconds. When you check your phone, you don't have any bars. No calls in or out.

Through the open windows, a computer awakens and displays a cheerful smile. The lights inside switch on.

Pick your scenario role below. Your thread partner doesn't need to take the opposite role! They can join you in the same scenario (i.e. trapped together). Players are also free to create a generic NPC for the other side to facilitate the thread.

After characters escape, they'll find one bottle of antibiotics in their pocket or car, whether they remember taking it or not.

A: Sealed In
As you peer through the windows, you see crates of medicine floating around. Antibiotics in the diadem are valuable. Hospitals and doctors are always buying. You can keep it for yourself or make a quick buck. Or maybe you're compelled to help somebody back in the city who's in need. Whatever the reason, you decide to take the risk and step inside.

Water splashes around your ankles. The lock buzzes behind you. If you try to break the windows, you discover they're unnaturally resistant to shattering. With the whole place locked tight, the water begins to churn. Then the computer lights up again.

Warning, it flashes in large, bold text. Quarantine in progress. Release code required for exit.

• To find the code, you'll have to search. Duck under the water, go through sopping envelopes and sticky notes or pick the locks on the filing cabinets and desk drawers. You can also try hacking the computers. Use your computer knowledge or fall back on the age-old trick of seeing who wrote down their password.
• The files, notepads, and emails start innocuous, but as you look through them, disturbing phrases jump out at you—a dark thought you've had or a cruel taunt from someone in your past. The longer you're fixed on the terrible words, the higher the water begins to rise. Only another can break you out of your trance.
• With the rising water comes fear. And the more you're afraid, the more the water also rises. You begin to see faces in the water, bobbing like balloon heads. Do you recognize them? If you move to take a closer look, they will sink back beneath the surface as if never there.
• If you manage to swallow your panic, you can eventually find a triple-laminated binder with the release code and instructions. Bad news: you need someone on the outside to punch in the 6 strange symbols in order. The instructions explain that the code panel is located at the back of the building.

Let's hope a friendly face comes along.

B: Set Free
As you peer through the windows, you see not just the crates of medicine but someone trapped inside. They look like they might be in trouble, and from your vantage point, you notice that the water is bubbling strangely. It's definitely not normal rainwater. As you watch, the water rises unnaturally, stopping and starting. It's as if the water level is responding to an external stimulus.

• The glass is soundproof. You can't hear what the person inside is saying, so you'll have to communicate with each other another way. Try charades, typing on your phone, or whatever you think of. Eventually, you determine that they're stuck and that you need to enter some sort of code onto a pad located—according to your trapped partner—at the back of the building.
• Around the back, shadows swallow your surroundings. The panel must be pried open, but a slippery substance makes it hard to get a good grip. Each time the substance touches you, you grow uneasy. You swear you see eyes watching you, though when you turn around, nothing's there.
• You can't seem to keep the instructions in your mind. And those symbols...they burn into your retinas. Through them, you glimpse an incomprehensibly massive figure unfurling in the darkness, pulsing as if in a deep sleep. When you snap back to reality, you realize you've injured yourself, slicing your hand on a sharp edge or a bruise you can't remember getting.
• Once you manage to release the doors, the water inside the office drains upward into the sky as though sucked out by a giant hose. The darkness spreads. Get out of there fast before the shadows drag you or your partner into the void.

Of course, you don't have to help anyone. You can leave the individual there, make a deal, or outright extort them. But remember, you're not the only person on these roads. You might want to play your cards carefully, even if altruism isn't your first instinct.

Main Navigation ::: ⇅ Top

Comments

marc spector, marvel comics

[vestments]

⏾ PANORAMA, power outage

( if asked, marc would claim he prefers the dark, or maybe he'd say that it doesn't matter to him, he doesn't sleep at night — although judging by the dark circles beneath his eyes, the ones that suggest a habitual lack of sleep rather than the occasional, infrequent bout of insomnia, one might wonder if he sleeps at all.

(the answer's yes, but for maybe four hours — five if he's lucky — a night.)

what makes him less comfortable is the motel. it's been a long time since he's had to share accommodations, and though he's tempted to ride the dark out quietly, alone, it's not especially thrilling. he'd heard whispers that staying, being known to be alone, invited trouble during times like this, and that'd elicited a grim sort of amusement, the kind that's more promise and threat than humour.

what protector of the travellers of night would he be if he did nothing?

and so he leaves his room, seemingly unarmed, seemingly just a man — neither are lies, he's both, but he moves with the quiet stealth that comes with both training and practise, that says he's used to being a weapon should it come to it, that getting hurt is the least of his concerns and, maybe, he'd welcome it.

he stops outside one door, listening. intent. considering. two people, maybe three—, he decides, and moves on. the next is quieter, and he leans into the door, raises a fist and knocks, sharp and perfunctory, before waiting.

maybe it's your room, or maybe you round the corner and find him stood there, hand resting on the door handle, surprise and expectancy competing for dominance in his expression.

he pauses.

then— )

You shouldn't be out here alone.

( it's not meant to be a threat. )

⏾ THE FRINGES, set free

( he'd gravitated towards a motorbike — he'd had several at one point, back when steven grant had a long island mansion and back before marc spector had destroyed his own reputation. for the third, and certainly not the final time.

and then he'd been left with just the one, which he'd had custom painted white because he'd decided it was moon knight's bike, not marc spector's. the one he has here, now, is nothing like that one. sure, it's quick enough, but it's not flashy. it's nothing he'd choose given the option of choice — realchoice, not whatever yom crook had offered.

but it does the job and that's what matters, even out here. even in the rain.

he's cold — of course he is, he's hardly dressed for the weather, not all in white, a three-piece suit from head to toe. jacket. waistcoat. boots. gloves. fussy crescent moons as buttons and cufflinks. signs of wear, unrelated to the rain — smudges of dirt here and there, dark red-come-brown at the edges of sleeves and on the knuckles of his gloves.

apparently, marc's unbothered.

he pauses just once, gaze flickering towards the sky, not quite curious but searching. a moment after that, and he's at a window. through the lack of light outside, it's easyish to see inside, easyish to catch sight of the person inside. he doesn't try tapping, not as his first option, instead — marc spector being marc spector and a man of escalation — he pulls out a truncheon, the only weapon he'd found on his person after coming to.

a step back, a determined swing, a thud — not the smash he'd been expecting — and that's it. he grimaces, mouth curling down in a sharp expression of unhappiness, one punctuated by a frustrated almost-growl, a—) Fuck, ( that's muttered low and more to himself than the person inside or anyone that might have turned up after him.

once he realises there is someone else, he'll step back away from the window, shoes crunching against the ground as he turns. for a moment, he's quiet, brown eyes dark and studious, the furrow of his brow obscured by sodden, almost-wavy hair. his mouth thins and he inhales, gesturing towards the window in a tight, restrained motion. )

We need to find a way inside.

( blunt, chicago-accented for any familiar, albeit softened by years of travel. it's not quite unhappy, but it's edging towards it, as if displeasure's his permanent state of being and he'll brook no arguments on the concept of 'we' given the person trapped inside the building. )

⏾ WILDCARD + OOC

( feel free to hmu with anything else! anywhere else! i'll match style if you prefer prose.

fwiw, marc has zero powers or abilities, however i do have an info post here, as well as a post for content warnings. if you want to discuss anything, pp me at spandex! or else hit up my emp. )

Jack!! 💝

[someonetostay]

“Blue blood is the colloquial term for thirium. I thought more people might be familiar with it.”

Which doesn’t seem to be the case. So far, anyway.

“I require thirium to function as an android.”

Said deadpan. Not that the blue LED on Connor’s temple wouldn’t betray his un-humanness, regardless. Moving on!

He steps away from the samples, gesturing to the odd assortment with a nod.

“You should try some. You’ll have to tell me about them. The ‘alien eggs’ in particular.”

Laura Howlett | XMCU

[valle]

( open starters below; hit me on plurk at paingravy or discord @righteously for anything. totally down to match format for brackets or prose. warnings for violence & possible references to historical child abuse/neglect.
no remaining invites to offer, unfortunately! )

[mississippis]

She might have been locked up for years, but she remembers enough about her hitchhiking trip as a teenager to know that waving down cars alone isn't the safest activity. And though she's gotten used to living in a near-constant state of dread and fear, she can feel it bubble up tenfold, turning almost acidic in her throat, as someone pulls over, making a point of trying to shield her eyes under a shock of white hair, wanting to be aware of her surroundings without seeming like she is. 

Rogue's not prepared for who she sees.

Logan's face looking back at her has her own going ghostly pale, all the blood draining out of her cheeks, certain that this is another experiment. They'd started getting creative after a couple of years, and she wouldn't put it past any of the scientists to pull in a budding telepath to fuck with their minds. Build a nice little mental bubble world, see what sorts of familiar keystones they can throw in without breaking the illusion. 

Sounds like just another Tuesday as a mutant lab rat.

She'd say it wouldn't be the worst thing they've done to her (and it still isn't), except this? This is cruel. Because even though one part of her mind is reminding her that it's probably not real, another part can't help but leap at the thought that maybe it is. 

"Logan?" She hasn't approached him yet, doesn't think she needs to to make sure he hears her anyway. Almost feels ridiculous for the hopeful upturn in the way she says his name, like she knows she's being foolish but can't help it.

driving...jack plz

[apapalypse]

[ This feels like a set-up, but at least the masked junkyard dealer doesn't pretend to give anything away for free. That would be way more suspicious. Joel takes the loan, though he doesn't have any intent on paying it back or staying around for long. A working car is a high value item and if he can drive away with one without risking his head, he'll take it. For now.

That doesn't mean he trusts it, though. He checks everything--under the hood, under the car, the bed. Not necessarily for quality--though he does want to make sure shit actually works--but for anything fishy someone who refuses to take off their mask might plant. Something that's set for this thing to blow up halfway down the highway and put you further into debt.

He's as content as it's possible for Joel Miller to be (without his adopted charge around, which that in and of itself is a big motivator to get the hell out of here and find her), except there's this. Guy. Just running his mouth like they're buddies.

Joel looks over from where he's checking the hood of the truck he's chosen. To the young man. Kid? Edging that border.

"I have seen movies with motorcycles, they look cool." ]

...Good for you.

[ "I could probably drive one, right?"

Is this a joke? He pointedly looks back to his work. ]

No.

Fringes!

[widows_kiss]

[ She'd rolled up on her bike, following a tip, only to find an old station wagon already parked outside the building but no one in sight. Someone else beat her here, perhaps? Hopping off her bike, she prowls towards the front of the building and peers in the dark windows, already able to see a rising level of water on the other side of the glass.

That doesn't look good.

She doesn't even have time to look for the entrance when a face suddenly appears on the other side, a girl, with brightly colored hair and wide eyes and shit, that's really not good.

The girl says something, but no sound comes through the glass. Still, Natasha can read lips well enough to make out help. A bang of her fist on the glass is clear enough to tell her that that's not breaking easily and she doesn't have the right equipment on her to even try. And a yank on a nearby door shows it's locked, jammed tight, without any visible places to pick a lock. Because of course it couldn't be that easy.

She bangs on the glass again to make sure she has the girl's attention, being careful as she words a reply, hoping the girl can make it out, if the sound doesn't reach her either. ]

It won't open from inside? Is there another exit? [ Because it sure doesn't look like it opens from out here. ]

[thetruefocus]

Yes, give me a moment so I can help you.

[ He opens the van door with an arm to the back, and it is accessible so a platform is placed down when he hits a few buttons to move it in place. Charles is used to Hank helping him with everything, but he is far from helpless (or so he likes to think), and he was given some suggestions by the man who gave him the wheelchair she can see now that the door is open. He hoists himself from his seat and manages to slide into it, turning the wheels around and offering his arms. ]

This may be a bit difficult for the two of us, but if you can put it on the ramp, we should be able to roll it in well enough.

[ Neither of them can likely lift it, but that is why the ramp should be helpful in general, not only for his chair. The space back there is empty outside of some pushed up seats that he'll be able to press down in the future, but it should be plenty for her bike to be pressed into the back for now. He'll help her as much as he can; he has strong arms, although they're slightly out of practice.

He recognizes her accent and that the situation may be a slightly unnerving one between strangers, so Charles tries his best to smile reassuringly. He has an easy way about him, his expression gentle, his eyes warm. ]

I'm Charles Xavier. Nice to meet you.

[mississippis]

Player Name: M
Contact: mississippis

TDM Participation: Link
RP History: playing in Duplicity and Pixie Led, along with random PSLs and sometimes (though not recently) memes.

blocks. :3

[carcajous]

[ Y'know, about ten, fifteen years back, he'd recognize exactly who was behind his door before he opened it. He'd smell it. It's been a long damn time, though. A really long time. The bodies have stacked so high, he'd say he lost track, except he hasn't. He knows the count, every single one of them.

And the big fuckin' irony is, Scott was the first. First name struck out on his list. Bet the guy would love that, he used to think.

Point is, Logan hasn't got any idea who it is knocking, couldn't care less, most definitely isn't about to get up and open it. He's good here, alone in the dark. He can see well enough. Sure as hell doesn't need anybody making trouble in a room he's paid for. He just wants to burn a cigar and catch his signature two hours of sleep. Maybe three, if he's had a real good night.

When the knock comes a second time, he frowns through the cloud of smoke. Seriously? All the doors along this block, they gotta pick his?

Anyway, it may or may not also be around the time Scott hears a distinctly familiar: ] Fuck off.

[someonetostay]

Player Name: Frankie
Contact: Giangio

TDM Participation: link (top level)
RP History:

• My muselist is spiracle!
• I’m currently in Etraya (etrayamods) with Hank from Detroit Become Human (top levels linked here + Hank’s inbox).
• Also in the Locked Place (lockedmods) with Gavin, also from Detroit Become Human, until the end of May. Here’s a thread my bud and I had fun with, where Gavin accuses Viktor of murder (RIP Viktor).
  • And here’s a meme thread of Gavin trying to get Connor to drive him to work and buy him breakfast, lmao.

[godjr]

"An android?" Jack brightens, smiling quickly, curious. "I thought they only existed in futuristic movies, I'm excited to meet you. I will find you this thirium if I can, I promise." His sincerity is firm. Now he has a mission, he has to get his new friend blood. It didn't seem obvious from the shelves if there was any, maybe there were better fluids elsewhere.

He takes the alien eggs and pops it into his mouth good-naturedly, chewing thoughtfully. "Crunchy." That's an understatement, it crunches, and he makes certain to get a good taste before swallowing it down. "Can you taste? Would you like me to describe each of them to you for your knowledge?"

castiel | supernatural

[messenger]

ARRIVAL
cw: injury, emetophobia

[ castiel's shaken out of his mind like a flea off a dog's back. for a moment, he opens his eyes to a room, where he's surrounded by people he knows and standing in the center of a sigil.

someone says his name, and his world goes black with a violent jerk.

when he finally wakes, it's in the tent, with a screaming headache and gauze taped to the side of his head. his double vision doesn't immediately resolve itself when he sets eyes on his savior— yom crook, he says his name is— but he ignores it and sits quiet as it's explained to him the situation.

one debt, two debt. wherever he is, he can tell it's not home. so he takes the car (a beige 2001 impala, dusty and rust covered, with a substantial dent in the rear quarter panel and the word ASSHOLE keyed in big block letters in the same side back door; the colorful, cutsey stickers covering the rear surrounding the also-rusted license plate don't do much to liven the image), takes the debt, and heads in the direction of the city.

when he arrives in panorama, he spends three days sleeping off his head injury in his new car before it finally catches up with him. 2am finds him puking his empty guts up in the parking lot and stumbling away in the direction of the nearest motel. ]

SETTLING IN / POWER OUTAGE
cw: blood, bugs/inverts/technically it's a mollusc

[ for almost two weeks, castiel remains in the relative comfort of his room: even after the power goes out, he lays in the dark and doesn't sleep, doesn't dream, doesn't do much of anything at all. it's not until he hears a knock at the door that he finally gets up the gumption to venture outside again.

only, there's no one there.

he stands on the curb for a long time after, listening, before he shuts the door behind him to walk out into the drizzle. there's still gauze taped to his left temple, dark brown with dried blood. he pays it no mind as he kneels to lift something from the sidewalk. a hundred dollar bill? a penny? no— it's a fat brown slug. when he notices he has an audience, castiel speaks without turning, in a casual tone, like people pick slugs up off sidewalk and have conversations about them all the time. ]

This isn't a very good place for a gastropod to live, is it?

THE PAVILION (FREE SAMPLES)

[ with a blank look, castiel watches a bag of cat food kibble scatter across the pet aisle with no regard at all for his dignity. he blames it on the head injury, but the truth is, he's always been a little clumsy— made more than his share of messes working at the gas-n-sip. so instead of flagging down an employee, he walks away and slips into the back room like he already works there, taking one of the cleaning carts for his own use without even a by-your-leave.

he doesn't get caught until he's already halfway through cleaning up the mess, and the poor young woman is so baffled ("Why didn't you just flag down one of the staff...") that she can't even bring herself to put a stop to it. ("Well, put the cart away when you're done," she says, nonplussed, before she returns to her job.)

when he is, he rolls up the ripped, half-empty bag of cat food and sighs, speaking to the person nearest— or maybe just himself. ]

This isn't even what I came here for.

THE FRINGES (SEALED IN)

[ the long drive doesn't feel so claustrophobic when castiel realizes that the door's locked shut behind him and the windows won't break.

annoyed, he turns his attention to the computer, which he feels is personally responsible, somehow. the water soaks his socks as he searches through drawer after drawer for anything useful. his long coat becomes heavy as it drags through the water. over the sound of sloshing, he can hear ambriel's voice just as clearly as he can see the writing on the notepad he's been flipping through: we're both expendable.

she kills us... no big loss.

another joins her, after, in bleeding black ink.

blue eyes, you're not even worth the effort. ]

OPTIONAL PROMPTS

• somebody's car breaks down (cas'/yours) and cas/you stop to help
• cas gives your character a ride somewhere
• your character meets cas while he's working part-time at the grocery store
• your character meets cas while they're both fueling up at the gas station

( ooc: hit me up on discord to plot! you can find me @ hayyot. )

wildcard

[frostfist]

[ After a bit of back-and-forth with the guy in charge and a careful onceover of the various vehicles housed in the log, Wriothesley thinks he's got his choice in transporation narrowed down. A smaller size means better maneuverability and less fuel consumption, and a more streamlined design should mean easier acceleration. For someone who usually hoofs it on his own, a motorcycle seems like the ideal choice.

Right?

Wrong. Wherever Lucina might be in the Scrapyard, checking out her options or simply getting a feel for things, there's the unpleasant scent of exhaust filling the air and the unholy screech of tires against ground, along with a rather frantic voice. ]

Watch out—

[ He goes zipping past, only to collide with a nearby wall. Turns out the brakes don't work on this one. At least he hadn't been going too fast. ]

free samples

[alwaysme]

"Mmmmmnope can't say I've heard of it."

She cronches down on half an alien egg. It reminds her of the Lanes. After a whole lot of chewing and crunching if Conner hasn't left her at that, she wipes her mouth before scratching at her head in thought.

"What about one for you--have you seen any Shimmer?"

techincal difficulties

[widows_kiss]

Performance issues?

[ There's a redhead straddling a motorcycle not far away, casually looking entirely too comfortable despite having just been yanked from certain death. Or out of a soulstone. She's not actually certain. Either way, she's breathing when she didn't expect to be, even if she's been tossed into some weird Mad Max alternate universe. She wonders if Rhodey had a theory about this outcome.

Her lips twitch in the efforts of holding back a smirk - efforts that utterly fail as she watches his outrage when his... shadow-thingy doesn't seem to work the way he intends. ]

Don't worry, I'm told it happens to a lot of people.

river kwan | original character

[healbuff]

[OOC: Basic info here. Feel free to PM me for anything specific.]

🩺 a road yet taken

[River Kwan's arrival isn't anything special. He woke up with a migraine and some bruises, assuming that this was a successful kidnapping, but the appearance of the masked figure, MedBot, and, well, everything else, told a different story entirely. The smell of antiseptic is comforting compared to the very real dread of being completely displaced and separated from his family (not to mention, cut off from the Esper Collective's support).

Funnily enough, the dread doesn't take over. Excitement and fascination replaces anxiety and uncertainty, and before long, River is eagerly taking on a loan for his sweet new ride, a roughed up Hummer H3. Before driving off, within his messenger bag from home (beat up, but still useable) he manages to find a scrap piece of paper and a pen with just enough ink to scribble a message and stick it on his windshield inside.]

DR. RIVER KWAN, GP
I HAVE A DRIVER'S LICENSE 😁

[Road trip buddy anyone? If you take him up on his offer, be prepared for conversation, singing along with whatever's on the radio, and overall, lack of silence. This man is not afraid of socializing.

For another encounter, if you're stuck on the side of the road for whatever reason, River will slow down, roll down his window, calling out in concern.]

Yo! You need a lift bro?

🩺 glitter in our eyes

[Panorama? Sweet, totally sweet. River, having sampled various cities back in the Golden State, feels at ease with the chaos, the traffic, and the variety of all there is to see. But first? It's been literal hours, he needs to bulk up with some calories. You can bet that he has shoveled those samples of dumplings and cheese into his gullet along with other snacks such as mini-meatballs, and mixed crackers. The chocolate covered alien eggs, are met with a pause and some consideration.]

How much protein do you think alien eggs got? Can't be much more than chicken.

[River shrugs, and tosses them into his mouth. And before he finishes chewing and swallowing (his mom and grandma would slap him upside the head for his manners, he says to whoever is also partaking:]

If you don't want your eggs, I'll have 'em! Nutrition is nutrition.

🩺 no sleep block

Hey! Catch!!

[Is that a rag flying at your face? Yes, because River, being a good boy, will be cleaning up the mysterious goo in the motel hallway. If you have questions or protest, he's just gonna shrug.]

Look, you can live in a dump if you want, but I figure cleaning up should keep my own tab in check. I don't wanna know how many zeroes there's gonna be by the end of this week and I like math.

salutes!

[reverso]

[Well, in the grand scheme on things, Kimiko's vehicle is infinitely more practical than Verso's when it comes to actually hauling something other than a single person around, and maybe he should have given that some thought before committing to his choice, but that's neither here nor there.

Verso's brow rises incrementally as he watches this take place. A problem with her vehicle, he assumes? Some button that Isn't Doing The Thing. Well. That brow rises a bit farther once he sees how tiny this stranger really is; not so much because of her frame itself, but for how she is utterly dwarfed by the SUV.]

Er...

[He suspects he'll not receive vocal instruction, else he would've received some prior. Still, it doesn't matter too much — help's help, all the same, and give him a moment to parse her meaning. How good is he at charades? Middling to passing, depending.]

You want to ride with? Well, that might be exciting, but it'd also be a terrible idea.

[Yeah, middling.]

[vestments]

Player Name: laura
Contact: spandex

TDM Participation: top level, a tag in & another.
RP History: most of my rp history with mk was in duplicity (unfort locked), but his ic inbox is located here. otherwise, it's the same story with the character i still current play at dup, his tdm tl, and a top level at a previous game (etraya).

before joining dup, i'd taken a fairly long break from dwrp, although i've been around for A WHILE. i did very briefly play mk at abraxas and at kenos, and before returning to dwrp, i've played in games like asgard (vers 1.0), into the night, and exitvoid!

otherwise, my muselist can be found— here!

[pse]

[ With no subtlety or any particular amount of quiet, a beat up black SUV with considerable rust in the wheel well drives up and screeches noisily to a stop a few feet away from where Lune is parked and, ostensibly, in need of aid.

Pardon Kimiko if she doesn't open her car door and get out right away, though. Instead, she rolls down her window and, uh, hucks a folded piece of paper out into the wider world. It flutters anticlimactically to the ground a few feet away from Kimiko's vehicle. The handwriting is in somewhat sloppy English, rather reminiscent of a middle schooler's.

On one side: Do you need help?
On the other side: You might have left your keys in the ignition. Did you check?

And, yeah, Kimiko did have to cycle through a smile pile of notes she's pre-written and stuffed into her glove compartment before she found the right one. ]

Arrival

[alwaysme]

I don't think legality is something they particularly are worried about, chum. [She overheard him talking earlier while she was debating if there was anything she could nab for her station wagon without making herself a Bigger Problem financially later (no).

She thinks she could find a way to wriggle herself out of her debt. Just needs to find herself a bigger fish and prove her value to them.

But she... doesn't particularly want to go that route right now unless she's in a bind.

She scouts his ride. Maybe...] 'Unlicensed' you said. Licensing sounds like a scam, anyway. Do you know how to drive?

𝚝𝚑𝚎 𝚛𝚘𝚊𝚍

[terrorisms]

( The last thing he remembers is oncoming headlights, the screeching of brakes, and the slam of an impact. He'd been traveling — nowhere in particular, just drifting — when an oncoming car ran a red light and T-boned him at an intersection. Blinding white, sharp pain, then nothing.

And then this. This place. A masked figure that he very nearly bodies to the fucking ground, except the vertigo kicks in first, and he staggers back onto the cot, too doped up on something to fly immediately into attack dog mode. That's the only reason he listens. The only reason he absorbs anything — bleary as it is at first, unreal as it seems.

Then again, after the attack on New York, after aliens, androids, and wizards, what's left to question anymore? This type of shit's normally out of his wheelhouse, but the wheelhouse fucking abducted him, so what else is there to do but figure shit out?

He gets to pick from a cherry t-top convertible with no top to go with it, a rust-bucket of a Yamaha, or the option he ultimately settles on: a soccer mom van. On the back, a bumper that reads coexist, and a little stick figure family decal on the back glass depicts a very nice lesbian couple, two stick figure kids, and several stick figure cats.

It takes him another day for the drugs to wear off completely before he's fit to drive. He leaves as the sun is setting, and an hour later, rolls up on the current scene.

It's one of the oldest scams in the book. A classic. Someone left a baby stroller on the side of the road, with just enough of something bundled into it to be concerning. He can make out the tail lights of another car braking to a stop to investigate, and he curses under his breath; god damn it, come on, don't be stupid-

The moment that good Samaritan opens their driver's side door, a small group of assholes spring out from the ditch, from behind rubble and broken down buildings, from behind hiding spots, to descend on whoever happens to be dumb of ass and pure of heart enough to fall for it.

Frank sighs. Pulls over.
And gets out of the car. )

An Zhe | Little Mushroom

[littlemushroom]

𓍊𓋼𓍊𓋼𓍊 ARRIVAL 𓍊𓋼𓍊𓋼𓍊
Somehow, the haunting swirls and screams of a dissonant chord creaking through his bones was not an unfamiliar thing. Hearing it again, so many times deeper and louder and more curdling than ever was… a problem. He tried to close his eyes to avoid said problem. Then he realized they were already closed.

An Zhe opened his eyes. This was not the vehicle An Zhe had been waking up in the last few days. He had been anticipating that the Arbiter was going to make fun of him because he had gone and done the very silly thing of banging his head on the low doorway through the vehicle. His head throbbed, and a ginger touch to his forehead revealed a bandage plastered to his forehead with papery tape. Lu Feng was not to be found. None of the people that were there (??who??) had heard that name either. He could be in Panorama though, they said. Take this car, they said.

Not knowing where this was or where that was or what was up from down, An Zhe took the car. He spent quite a while pouring over the basic instructions, to the point that someone finally told him that he really needed to move along now. Okay. Well. Alright!

He would get into this vehicle! After a lot of fiddling, the engine roared to life! He was on his way!!

There he went! Straight down the road! Straight….

… he was going to the left now…?

OH? A THING? IN FRONT OF HIM? HOW DID THE PEDALS???? GUESS HE WOULD TURN THIS WHEEL VERY HARD VERY FAST.

Too hard and too fast, actually. The little kei truck didn’t know what to do with this input at all, teetering on only two wheels before it simply fell over like a cat in a harness it had never asked for. It laid there, and so did An Zhe.

This had gone poorly.


𓍊𓋼𓍊𓋼𓍊 Panorama: FREE SAMPLES 𓍊𓋼𓍊𓋼𓍊
Somehow, the mushroom had managed to make it all the way to the city. This was incredible and no short of a miracle, all things considered. There had been a lot of consideration on whether he ought to just figure things out as a fungus outside the city, but the idea that perhaps Lu Feng was there pressed him to continue forward. It was easier for his heart to think that he could be rather than he wouldn’t be. An Zhe also wanted to get a better grasp of where he was now, which meant being among people to hear what they had to say.

Which all meant he had to figure out how to Survive all over again. Food was going to have to be a priority. Luckily, he’d run into someone that was very forthcoming about where An Zhe could pick up some ingredients. It was a busy place though, so An Zhe better have his wits about him.

An Zhe very quickly discovered that this was correct. There were so many people sometimes. The desire to sample a cheese was truly through the roof. Please don’t mind him quietly trying to reach under your arm right now. “Pardon me,” he said in a soft voice, “could I just grab one of these…?”

Alternatively,
Lingering around all the sample tables naturally led to the next step in the Sample Saga: becoming the Sampler.

An Zhe stood a bit awkwardly behind one of the tiny tables, doling out tiny cups on to the tray beside him. There was a mysterious bottle in his hand, and even more mysterious liquid was being poured into the vessels. “Hello,” he greeted as he glanced up from his studious pouring. “Would you like to try… um…” Hang on let him glance over at his notes.

“Some synthetic cherry juice? It is very… juicy.”


𓍊𓋼𓍊𓋼𓍊 Panorama: HOTEL 𓍊𓋼𓍊𓋼𓍊
By some other stroke of luck, An Zhe had managed to worm his way into one of the western motel rooms. He hadn’t really needed one since he had his little truck, but having a place a bit more sheltered was just… nice. Even if it was kind of… well. The Outer City’s barracks felt kind of luxurious in comparison, but it was (mostly) dry and (mostly) warm. There was a bed! He could stretch out all his limbs and stare despairingly at the ceiling in the dead of night.

He was just about to devote an evening to that with nothing better to do at the moment. He could hear the beginning pitter patters of rain on the roof (and in the corner), and it wasn’t one of his shifts at the grocery store that night. It was a good time to just sit and wonder what the next move needed to be.

At least until there was a knock at the door. Huh? An Zhe blinked over at the doorway with wide eyes for a moment, unsure if he had heard that correctly.

There was another knock.

Cautiously, An Zhe moved over to the hotel door. He pressed his ear to the door for a moment, but that did not tell him anything. The peephole was regretfully all gunked up. Please don’t be awful he thought as he cracked open the door and peeked out through it.

“Hello?”


𓍊𓋼𓍊𓋼𓍊 Fringe: SEALED IN 𓍊𓋼𓍊𓋼𓍊
This… this was an accident. An Zhe had not meant to be here. He’d simply been lost, and the rain had been too much, and this had seemed like a good enough spot to try and wait it out. How quickly was he proven wrong. The foreboding text on the screen in front of him brought the thudding of his pulse pounding in his ears. He’d be fine, probably, but…

He quickly turned away from the flickering light, his feet splashing through the water as he swiftly weaved through the desks. There had to be some kind of clue, right? An Zhe was a little familiar with researchers, and a lot of them liked to leave things around sometimes. Quickly then, time to look. The sound of the water was growing ever more ominous.



[[ooc: If you would like to Wildcard, feel free! You can definitely also switch to action tags if you would prefer!]]

Agent 8 | Splatoon

[flyoctofly]

Arrival

Eight jerks awake in the kind of momentary panic you only get from knowing you've been here before.

Well, not strictly here here, but a...situational here: Waking up with a headache, not knowing where you are and how you got there. It's all too familiar to Eight, but at least he knows who he is this time. The last thing he remembers is putting on the headset to be the test subject for his friend Marina, to see if her virtual reality project would finally help him and the rest of his people recover their memories...

Something's gone very wrong.

"I...guess I should assume you're not one of Marina's AIs?" he says, addressing the masked figures.

At least they didn't laugh at him too much. He listens to the offer and...it sounds like he's under their thumb either way.

Like paying for the tests at Kamabo...

What a sour taste that leaves in his mouth.

In the end, he picks a motorcycle. It's not much to look at, but he has no experience with cars and Marina swears by them. No, it doesn't occur to him how many of his choices she influences. He just knows that if it's good enough for her, it's more than good enough for him. The one drawback is that there's no way for him to carry his weapon on it, except tucked under the ink tank strapped to his back. Not comfortable and absolutely not an approved way to carry it by the standards of the Octarian Army or any official ink sports league, but maybe that's OK. He should probably have it at arm's reach at all times anyway Who knows what he might be forced to give a face-full of ink to?

It took quite a few tries to find a helmet that didn't squish his tentacle into his eye, but, hey, now all he has to do is...learn how to ride it. Shouldn't be THAT much different than learning how to use a new weapon, right? Test things, be meticulous, don't jump into the real thing until you're comfortable. He takes awhile to get off the lot, but he makes pretty good time until about halfway he takes a hill a little too fast, tips the nose too far forward, and wipes out.

He's not really hurt -he doesn't have bones to break, after all- but his bike bounced into the middle of the road and is probably blocking your own vehicle. Help him out or yell at him, your choice.

Panorama

Oh no. Rain.

Eight cannot do rain.

Literally. He'll dissolve.

He ends up ducking into a supermarket in the hopes that they'll sell an umbrella or a poncho or something. He can handle the light showers that are happening right now, but if the sky opens up his body will liquefy and run right into the storm drain.

He's in luck: there's one umbrella, collapsible and made of clear plastic. And out of his price range, which is free. He sighs. He really doesn't want to have steal it. It's a moral thing but also a pride thing? Octarians just don't lower themselves like that.

"...Wonder if they'd let me have this if I told them I'll die without it?"

He says it to himself, but also a little bit to whoever's around. He hasn't felt on his own in a long time, and his shyness has always been fighting with his extroversion. Indirect communication is just how it comes out.

Blackout

Back in Octo Valley, blackouts were a fact of life. On bad days what power they had often needed to be diverted to weapon manufacturing or hospitals or kitchens, or wherever it was needed. The dorms where Eight lived? Not even a consideration. When the power went out, you went to sleep or went somewhere where there were still lights.

Of course, in Octo Valley, all you actually needed to worry about was maybe a prank, or a bunk mate who was afraid of the dark. Not so here.

He really, really doesn't want to have to test his ink against the bladed or projectile weapons he's seen people carrying. He hasn't seen one be fired yet but he has a feeling he never wants to.

The first thing he does is change his ink color from magenta to a bright yellow, a color much easier to see in low light conditions. Best not to take anyone by surprise. He picks up his Octobrush, and goes to start knocking on doors.

Wildcard

[Got a better idea? Hit me up on Caligraphunky or DM me! I'm open to all! Also feel free to switch formats, I'll match you.]

panorama

[frostfist]

[ He's on his way back from a shift at the supermarket when the lights go out, keys tugged out from his jacket pocket as he clambers up the last of the steps. It's not ideal timing - hard to heat up water for tea when nothing'll turn on - but his mental rearranging's interrupted first by a cacophony of voices, and then a single one separate from the rest.

Turning, he makes out the vague outline of a figure framed by a doorway. ]

Dunno. [ Light. Casual. He's pretty sure he hasn't met this particular building neighbor, but the city is a big place and he hasn't been here all that long. ] One way to find out though.

[ With a nod of his head towards the commotion. ]

Though if you don't like getting roped into unwanted tussles, I'd recommend you head back inside.

erik lehnsherr — xmcu

[heavymetals]

ON THE ROAD

[ Erik grips the steering wheel hard, gaze focused on the endless road ahead, but not quite seeing what lies beyond him.

He's still absorbing the information given to him. Not much, admittedly, and not nearly enough for him to fully understand what's going on. For an illusion created purposefully by someone truly powerful, it seems a little too complex and far too farfetched for him to see what anyone could gain from it. The other option is to believe he's somehow been taken to another planet. Another reality? That's somehow even more unrealistic than anything else he could imagine.

He expects at any moment to wake up in his own small, old cabin in the middle of the woods with a strong headache, thus rendering all of this a wild, complex dream that he has somehow concocted. Dreams always seem real when you're in them, after all. But then, him thinking that this might be a dream is probably proof that it's definitely not a dream.

Fuck, his head hurts now. That's probably another sign that this is all real.

He spots something different in the distance— a car pulled over to the edge of the road, someone standing just outside it. He debates just driving by, but instead he slows down, pulls up behind them and steps outside. ]

Car trouble?

PANORAMA

[ It's not long before Erik becomes painfully aware of how real all of this, however wild and incomprehensible. The notion of alternate realities is a tad too far for a man who's only come to learn of diverging timelines and the possibility of time travel, but Erik has never been the sort to be stumped.

Besides, he's a man of priorities, and right now survival is at the top of that list. Having the car is a good start, and it's where he sleeps for the first few days, visiting the supermarket for all the free samples he can get— and simply scooping a couple of other essentials into his pocket as needed. He's modest and discrete enough to be able to do it without drawing any attention to himself. If someone sees him, he may level them with a heavy gaze, somewhere between threatening and genuinely concerned that he's about to be told on.

Not that getting arrested would be a first for him, but still.

He knows this isn't a long term solution, though, and after a couple of days he decides to find a way to earn some much needed funds. A warehouse job is simple enough work, menial tasks that he can handle and will keep him just under the radar, so he applies for one of those. Throughout the shifts he keeps mostly to himself, not giving even his coworkers much attention though it is clear he's watching them constantly.

After a couple of shifts, he can finally pay for a room at one of the cheapest motels, a slight improvement after sleeping in the car for his first nights. Electricity is rare and fickle but that's the least of his concerns, really. He can still shower, even if the water's cold, and a bed is still better than the cramped space in his back seat.

He expects no one to come barging in, but a knock on the door is just as surprising. He pulls it open only to find no one there, then pokes his head out into the hallway to see someone just a few feet away. ]

Yes?

FRINGES

[ Coming out here is quite possibly a very bad idea, but Erik's lacking in ideas when it comes to figuring out what's happening here. It's a distant hope to learn any more about his current circumstances, but he's still going to try. Maybe a clue, or someone who might know more than what he's been told so far.

That's not what he finds when he reaches the flooded building, but that only serves as further encouragement for him to step inside. The moment that door locks behind him, he knows he's made a mistake.

But it's not until he tries to use his powers and nothing budges that he realizes he's made a grave mistake. He gasps audibly when he puts all his energy to it and nothing happens, panting as the seriousness of the situation dawns on him. He looks around, refuses to panic. Eyes fix on the words flashing on the screen.

Code. A code— it has to be here somewhere. Erik is not well-versed with computers, especially as they're not a common thing in his own time, so he starts searching through what papers and folders he can find, trying to see if there's anything underwater that might help.

A face takes shape, and he freezes in a panic, eyes wide. He mutters something, tries to chase after the face of a woman he hasn't seen in thirty years— but she vanishes just when he's an inch from being able to touch. He gasps, pain stabbing through his chest, only to make his insides twist painfully when the face of his mother is replaced with Shaw's.

His face goes white, by now the task at hand entirely forgotten. Shock and grief give way to anger, and he screams as he punches through the water, forcing that face to vanish. Part of the structure inside gives way, metal beams bending and pulled apart from their place, but the building doesn't collapse. There's just a lot of threatening noise and probably some pieces of the ceiling coming apart and falling in the process.

Helping him snap out of it at the moment might be the most urgent course of action. ]