TEST DRIVE MEME, APRIL 2017.

[officialnotice]

TEST DRIVE MEME

There was an accident. That's basically the only thing you know for certain. Maybe a car wreck - metal and broken glass everywhere, and the sirens and the screaming. Or maybe there was an explosion. Maybe your bike hit a rock and you careened uncontrollably off a mountain path. You can't can't quite make out the details, not who was at fault or why. Try as you might, the chaos is all you can remember.

It's also the last thing you remember from before you wake up here.

When you open your eyes, the accident is gone. Instead, you're in a hospital bed – the nursing staff greets you with a cheerful smile.

Welcome to Wayward Pines, they tell you. You'll make a full recovery here.

option one

WELCOME TO WAYWARD PINES

The hospital staff had seemed very friendly, but ultimately unhelpful when it came to answering your questions, insisting you shouldn't worry about such things, and that it was smarter to just rest until you'd fully recovered.

That was some time ago. You've since managed to leave the hospital – either via escape, or simply by waiting patiently and filling out paperwork until they finally agreed to release you. Now you've found yourself in the small but hearty town of Wayward Pines, Idaho. It's a charming little place, and the people there are all friendly enough, more than willing to greet you on the street, or give you directions if you need them.

Unless you're asking for directions out of town, of course.

Some will simply smile and give you a hearty pat on the shoulder and ask why you'd ever want to do a thing like that? Others will get quiet for a moment, and direct you to the nearest sign posted near the doorway of every building.

Don't bother taking the road, either. Whether you walk or get your hands on a vehicle, you won't get anywhere. The road simply takes you away from town for a short while before looping around and bringing you right back in.

There's no use questioning things, and it seems pretty useless to try to leave. So really, why not stay a while? Everyone's convinced that you'll find something to love in Wayward Pines.

(For the purposes of this test drive, you're welcome to handwave the existence of basically any local business or activity.)

option two

INTO THE WOODS

You've just heard a scream from the woods.

I mean, it could've been an animal. There's bound to be some kind of wildlife amongst the trees, right? But then again, it did sound awfully... human.

Though all of the locals nearby conceal a flinch at the sound, they'll assure you it's nothing, if you ask them. Why, you're probably just hearing things! (But with an anxious undertone of stop asking questions.) If you're curious, though, and brave enough to go see, they won't make any move to stop you from going into the wooded area surrounding the town.

The trees are tall, and their branches are thick enough to block out a significant amount of sunlight from breaking through the canopy, leaving the forest floor a little dimmer and cooler than the streets of town.

Whatever the source of the scream was, you won't be able to find it out here. An experienced hunter might notice some signs of a struggle, and a few faint boot prints, but they don't really seem to lead anywhere in particular.

What you will find, if you walk far enough, is a fence. A big one - at least 30 feet tall, made of metal and concrete. It goes on quite a ways in either direction as well; follow the wall far enough, and you'll see that it connects with the steep, sheer cliffs that surround the rest of Wayward Pines, effectively boxing the town in.

In actuality, you'll probably feel it before you see it. A full 500 yards from the wall, when it's hardly a shadowy smudge through the trees, you start to feel a little bit tired, a little bit weak. Trouble is, the closer you get, the weaker you feel - like the wall itself is sapping the strength out of you, and the closer you get, the worse it feels. Any powers you may have had grow weaker in kind as you make your way to the fence, but even ordinary humans will find their strength sapping away. By the time you're close enough to read the signs and to feel the crackle of electricity radiating from the thick wires criss-crossing the wall's metal surface, you're too weak to stand.

Do you crawl closer still and risk electrocution, or do you crawl away and assess the situation once you're far enough from the fence to be able to stand?

option three

PTA BAKE SALE

It's that time of year again. The time when everyone digs into their wallet, ignores their diet, and spends a little time supporting the local school bake fair. You know, for the good of the children. And it doesn't hurt that Linda's Blondie recipe is honestly to die for. The school PTA has pulled out all the stops this year in the hopes of encouraging a good community turn out, posters advertising the sale plastering every street corner and stuffed into every mailbox for a solid week leading up to the event, and today is finally the day.

There's at least two dozen different tables set up with all manner of delectable treats, even one or two offering vegan alternatives for those inclined, not to mention a few others catering to some of the townspeople's more... unique palates.

Maybe you've got your own table set up with your wares, or maybe you were simply lured to the park today by the appetizing scents wafting through the air. Either way it seems like the whole town has come out to show their support today and why wouldn't they? Children are our future, aren't they? Or maybe it's just Linda's Blondie recipe.

Yeah, that's probably it.

option four

ON THE NETWORK

Though it's not as high-tech as you might be used to (or hell, maybe you're ren faire and it's centuries beyond anything you've seen), but Wayward Pines does in fact have a network to accommodate its citizens.

Go ahead, post a network post! Just note that the network currently has two basic functions. The first is audio-only and can be accessed from the telephones in each character's home. If an audio-based medium doesn't suit your needs (or aesthetics), be sure to take advantage of the Wayward Pines Message Board from your brand new laptop for the chance to communicate with your fellow townspeople in a text-based format instead!

( a few notes )

Welcome to our third test drive here in The Pines! Just one important thing to note:

Upon arrival in Wayward Pines, characters find themselves struggling to remember entirely who they were or where they came from. Memories return progressively over the next two weeks. You're welcome to play with this mechanic in any of these prompts, but it's definitely not mandatory! For more details on this temporary memory loss, see our FAQ.

Comments

Kal Kent | Superman Beyond (DC)

[silver_lined]

option one: welcome to wayward pines

[ Waking up in the hospital is... well, it's disorienting. Strange in a way that he can't quite put his finger on. And there's a certain kind of horror, a special sort of terror that comes with looking at the wires and tubes coming off of him that makes it an act of will not to pull them all out. It's no wonder that the first memory to come back to him is Lois, her last few moments in his arms, and that kills both the fight and the flight instincts the whole thing had on him initially. He's up quickly, though, and while he's been told that he should wait for an attendant to get out of bed, well... he's fine. Really. He can make it just as well to the bathroom himself-

And break the handle off.

Which leads to a few very awkward days of discovery for him, really. Oh, the doorknob is not the last thing to get crushed in his hand though thankfully it's probably the most important. At least they all get a laugh when the apple becomes applesauce all over his face. But then there's the floating, his senses going just... haywire. The first time he sees through one of the nurses is a trip.

Thankfully, the heat vision doesn't come up until after he's out of the hospital, settling into his new house and well... apparently he's the exception to the rule when it comes to watched pots and boiling. A very surprised exception.

...also he has to go to the store to get more eggs now. Thankfully, no one has to know why he's there. And it'll give him a chance to enjoy a nice walk down main street. ]

option two: into the woods

[ He almost goes like a shot. But after seeing the fear in a few people's eyes, Kal's been making a point to be more careful at showing off the strange things that he can do. It's part of why he's not even sure if anyone heard anything, at least until he actually sees the guilt and shame in their eyes. It makes his lips press tight before he starts running, the question of what's going on behind him almost as curious as what he might find in front of him. Once he hits the treeline, he starts putting his senses to work, though it's rough going given the wildlife and the rest of the forest's natural sounds. He's been working on it, though, and now that he's out of sight, he feels better about flying around a little faster, not that he's finding anything so far... ]

option three: pta bakesale

[ There is NOTHING like the smell of fresh baked goods and there is especially nothing like the smell of good apple pie. Kal feels the itch to do some baking of his own sometime this week, but for the moment, he's going to take his time and browse around the little sale to pick out a few things to take home with him. After all, it's a great cause. And it's giving him a chance to get to meet and greet with some of the folks around town.

Besides, it's a beautiful day.]

option four: network

Nothing too complicated: I was just wondering if anyone would be interested in doing a recipe exchange. I promise I've got a few great ones to make it worth your while.

option 2!

[420blazeit]

[ when she hears the scream she can’t help but to flinch like those around her. it’s startling and the fact that it didn’t sound like an animal, but instead a human, makes it all the more unsettling. she frowns, looking around the crowd, from face to face, to see if someone ( anyone ) is going to leap into action, but… ]

Hey! [ she had almost lost faith in these people, but when one man breaks away from the crowd she finds herself running after him. instinctively, she reaches for her wrist comm, to call her mech, only to remember it hadn’t been sanctioned or some bs. ] Slow down! [ he reminds her of jack in more ways than one, and that brings a smile to her face. ] Gramps, slow down! How is it all you old guys can run so fast? I call hax! HAX!

ELENA MICHAELS :: Otherworld

[defenderofmen]

Hospital /Police Station/Coffee Shop

She heard someone cough at the end of the hall, the heavy steps of the busy nurses running to and fro, the soft words of reassurance and comfort that spilled from every room. The beeps were maddening, hundreds of them echoing through her head, all in the same steady haunting rhythm. Elena hated hospitals, she always had. The smell was too clean, stained with bleach and ammonia as if that might wash away the discomfort of death that filled the building.

It didn’t help but people liked to pretend that it did.

With a groan Elena pushed herself up to a sitted position. She was wearing a hospital gown with the same frustratingly steady beat echoing at her side. It took fractions of a second before Elena decided she was done with this. She pulled herself free of the bed and quickly left the hospital. She didn’t belong there anyway.

After hearing that her things were at the station she swung by, pulling on a pair of worn jeans, combat boots, a tank top and a long sleeve t-shirt. She never cared much about fashion which was at least one thing that she firmly remembered about herself. From what she had gathered, dhe’d been in some sort of accident but she wasn’t overly concerned about her memory loss, knowing it would return in time. What concerned her was the itching sensation that she felt against the back of her knees. It felt like she wanted to run.

Elena considered going home, changing into something more comfortable and then going for a run but decided that her time would be better employee if she got herself a cup of coffee. Caffeine was what she needed to take off the edge, caffeine and a very fattening pastry to go along with it.

PTA Bake Sale /Journalism

She had resumed her job at the local newspaper though it wasn’t exactly as she imagined when leaving the hospital. Looking over her small desk she realized that there was no intrigue or real digging done into this town. It was strange considering all of the accidents but it was hushed up, something that they weren’t allowed to talk or write about. Elena frowned with the more she learned, unable to firmly place what exactly was wrong with the situation.

As the morning pulled on she was called into her bosses office. He expressed concern first. She’d never taken time off and the accident had put her out of work for three days. Three days. It felt so long and yet Elena didn’t remember any of it.

With a bit of a shrug he told her that she’d be covering the PTA bake sale. Elena wanted to protest that a bake sale wasn’t news but she knew that he wouldn’t take no for an answer. With a heavy sign she grabbed her notebook, her camera, and a pen and then headed towards the site. She made sure that she had enough cash on her before heading over, if she had to go then she was going to enjoy the tastes of all the baked goods while she was there.

She could be found wondering through the event for a few hours: taking pictures of each stand, speaking to those behind the small plastic tables covered in baked treats, asking about what they had baked and why they chose that particular sweet. She sought out the organizers to ask how this year’s sales have been going and what specific projects they had in mind to fundraise. She tried a snack from each table, making sure that she could comment on that as well as everything else.

If Elena had a job she was going to be thorough, capturing every angel that the story had to offer. She preferred more liberal pieces; The state of our Small Town and how to Preserve it was her favorite but these sort of events were nice too. They were relaxing and she didn’t mind taking the time to enjoy herself while also working. It was one of the many perks of the job.

WILDCARD

[ ooc: tag her where ever. ]

PTA Bakesale

[silver_lined]

He'd been told upon waking up in the hospital that he was a firefighter, a job that largely seemed to require very little in the way of fighting fires and a lot of drilling, community service, and sitting around with the other guys at the station. For all that, it's fulfilling, knowing that he's there to help and make a difference if something goes wrong... but something about watching the woman taking her notes, interviewing the various organizers, and getting her pictures fills him with a kind of longing and it's not too long before he makes his way over to her with a companionable smile.

He dusts his hands off and offers a bow of his head in greeting.

"I hope you're getting at least a cookie or two while you're here. You'll be glad of the blood sugar when you're writing this all up later."

He says it with the voice of experience, but it's experience he doesn't remember having quite yet.

Enis Edrin :: Original Character

[blindpuppet]

Hospital Waking

It wasn’t the sound of the hospital that woke her but a soft buzzing that echoed like the speeding hum of a race car in her ear. Bright blue eyes focused on the ceiling above her, her pupils shrinking as the light shined obtrusively down on her. Pain shot down her neck, reaching like tendrils of electricity down her spine and out through her limbs.

Rebooting

She pushed her hair out of her eyes, glancing around the room. Her limbs felt weak, like she’d been asleep to long and had forgotten how to move properly. The hospital was a familiar sight. She remembered spending a lot of times in hospitals. Was she sick?

Enis tried to remember but her thoughts were blank, all except that whirling sound that continued to echo through her skull.

She tried to flag someone down but everyone was too busy to notice her. Pressing her palm against her forehead, Enis decided to get some more sleep. Once she was rested she’d head out, with or without the doctors permission. She was used to hospitals but that didn’t mean she wanted to spend all her time here. She had something very important to do.

…if only she could remember what it was.

Feeling Sick : French's General Store

Her stomach twisted uncomfortably and Enis fell to her knees in the middle of the store. The apple she’d been holding rolled away from her, stopping only when something blocked its path. She pressed her palm against her abdomen, hoping that its stop the uncomfortable turning sensation that threatened to release her lunch right there in the store.

Her head began to swim uncomfortably, memories rising to the surface and then fading like bites of data or code that were only partially complete. The buzzing echoed in her head again but this time she heard a soft computerized voice in her ear.

Error

Enis shook her head, trying to push back the discomfort. Her fingers were trembling as she pressed her free hand to her head. Her skin was burning and slick, sweat dotted the back of her neck, sticking the midnight strands of silk to her perfectly pale skin.

Maybe she shouldn’t have left the hospital so soon.

Network : Text

SN: DJ-Defrag
I’m working on something new but it’s turning into a chemistry experiment. I need the following chemicals; Boracic acid, Latic acid, magnesium sulphate and acetylsalicylic acid. Most can be found in household items but they’re all mixed with other stuff that won’t work. Short of raiding the school’s chem lab, which I realize is illegal and I’d be admitting to the felony now, I need a way to get these items.

If anyone can help me, I’d be indebted to them. I can make payments in form of a free lunch or a drink.

WILDCARD

[ ooc: tag her where ever. ]

Hospital, aka let's blow this popsicle stand

[planetaryblues]

Sleep well while you can, Enis, but not too long. At a distance, the sounds of chaos rumble beyond the haze. The dreamings of a sick and exhausted mind, or the warning of a rapidly approaching storm? The yells of hospital personnel and patients seem to be closing in, rising with the clash and clatter of unseen medical paraphernalia striking the tiled floors.

Something undoubtedly corporeal snares Enis' wrist and wrenches her out from the minimal safety of her blankets. A force from behind catches her mid-fall and clutches her upright, strong arms pinning her tightly across her waist and chest. Perhaps a little too tight. Certainly enough to keep Enis easily in place, independent of whether or not her legs can currently hold her own weight.

A sharp metal edge presses against her throat.

"Back up! I said, back the fucking fuck up, or I'll redecorate all your walls in a fresh shade of red."

The words are scratchy, accented. Female. Panic stricken faces swarm closer—the faceless assailant with the obnoxious twang in her voice takes a broad step back, dragging Enis in tandem as though she were a doll. The edge presses sharper against her windpipe, followed by the faint smell of cigarette smoke and the feeling of frantic murmuring into her ear:

"Don't freak or you might die for real. I saw it. They ignored you same as they did me. Not the other patients, though. You're helping us both get out of here, right now. Opting out's not a choice, sorry."

Poe Dameron | Stah Wahs

[volitaunt]

one;
Projecting confidence apparently comes easy. So, it seems, does flirting.

It’s how he makes his way through town with minimal disturbance to the public. A wink, a slow grin. Giving someone with particular interest a once-over in return. On the ones that don’t take to it, he uses humor. “Laundry day,” he says, or “The latest style.”

There’s always a desire to add from where, like the designation of place is vital for understanding the joke, but he can’t think of the where that he needs.

At least it’s warm enough out that he only feels a light chill from the breeze.


two;
The instant after he hears the scream, Poe starts to move. Five running steps, a falter. Is no one else going to come?

He stares at the townspeople, instinct telling him to go, go, go, training (training?) telling him to take backup. “Well, what are you waiting for, a transmitted invitation? Let’s go!”

So persuasive.


wildcard/around town;
There’s a motorcycle in his garage.

He doesn’t remember ever having flow— driven something like this before, but the controls are so simple a toddler could operate them. He’s out on the road in a trice, not even pausing to close the garage door before zipping toward the emptiest parts of town.

Faster. Faster. Faster. At first it’s great, it’s perfect, feeling the press of gravity and atmosphere. But there’s a limit to it. To the speed he can get up to on these narrow streets, the maneuverability of this low-tech speeder wannabe.

He swings sideways into a skidding, juddering halt, the stutter of tires on asphalt like putting pressure on a bruise.

Stillness. A crow over cries a warning or a curse and Poe looks up, momentarily hating the animal for reasons he doesn't fully understand.

"Same to you,” he says, under his breath.

wildcard.

[dehanded]

[ she hangs upside down from the phone line like an odd, monkey cockroach hybrid. her red, clawed feet are bare at the end of legs hooked around the wire and she's probably ruining someone's phone call, but ibachan dgaf. she was wire walking and then this jackass showed up on his big ol kintokiride. ]

I did not say anything to you, human.

[ask_alexa]

Into the woods
When she heard the scream, Dom's hand went instantly to the place where a gun shoulder holster would be—a reflex as smooth and unthinking as an eyeblink. She'd think about that more, but the urge to see if someone's in trouble is stronger.

Now here she is lying in the ground, barely able to lift her head. That's what you get for following some random-ass boot prints, she thinks. She scrabbles a little in the dirt, trying to scoot herself backward. Maybe if she goes back the way she came, she'll be okay.

Bake sale
Dom's wandered up to the bake sale, unable to resist the lure of sweets. Of course, having done so means that she needs to make conversation—awkward conversation, per usual. She goes back and forth in front of the same table three times before finally stopping and smiling. "Hey. Brownies. I'll take one?"

Afterward she finds a bench in the park and has a seat, munching on the brownie and watching the townsfolk go by.

[volitaunt]

No one else came with him.

That thought haunts him unreasonably as Poe makes his way deeper into the woods. No one, not one of those people, heard someone scream and wanted to do anything about it. He's not used to that, he realizes. He was once, but not any more.

He also hasn't been walking long enough to merit the fatigue trickling into his veins. This feels... familiar, almost. It feels like--

The start of recollection gets curtailed by the sight of a woman on the ground. He picks up the pace, trying to run, finding instead that he can manage a jog with disproportionate effort.

"Hey! Can you hear me? Sing out if you--"

The wall, suddenly visible through the trees. He staggers to a halt, dropping unintentionally to one knee. The wall, and suddenly he knows why this feels familiar.

This isn't a town. It's a prison.

Scott Summers | X-Men Movies

[gottawearshades]

option one: welcome to wayward pines

[ So anyone in the same wing as him is probably going to get to meet Scott as he stumbles out of the ruins of a hospital room that has been literally cut in half by a massive beam of wild ruby-colored energy. Thankfully, none of the nurses were in the room at the time, but they'd all been on the way to check on the newly-awoken patient so, uh...

First impression: made.

He keeps the sunglasses on after that, but once they start trying to convince him of things and fill in the giant gaping holes in his memory, they get to be somewhat frustrated with him for entirely different reasons.

Suffice to say, everyone's happier when he leaves and heads for the sheriff's station to sign for what looks like laser tag gear and a visor with a neat little button that-

Second impression: also made. Also a mental note not to press the button unless he wants to blow something up. And definitely not in the sheriff's office. Probably.

He switches back to the shades since those look at least nominally normal and give him way better vision but the visor is in his backpack, along with a few other things that he'd picked up as he wanders around the town that apparently he's lived in his entire life. You know, except for the memories that say that's total bullshit that keep sort of nudging at the back of his brain, but that's neither here nor there. All the same, mostly he's just trying to find a good place for some pizza and to not blow anything up. So far, so good. ]

option two: into the woods

[ What in the ever loving hell was that?

He doesn't even really think so much as his feet are moving and he's heading for the treeline because that was... that was someone. Something? Does it matter? Whatever or whoever it was was terrified out of their goddamn mind and none of the other idiots in this town seem to want to do anything about it so off he goes. He laments that he doesn't have the neat visor thing with him (and he makes a note to try and pack it with him from now on because what the hell?!?) but he'll whip those glasses off if he has to, if...

He doesn't know 'what if' because he has no idea what he's running towards, but he's going to do something about it, goddamn it, whatever it is. ]

option three: pta bakesale

[ Why is Scott here? Because it was help with this or detention and at least this is outside in the sunlight. He likes sunlight, probably more than he figures most teenagers do. Besides, there's the smell of cookies, some of the mothers have even donated since he's being 'so helpful'...

It could really be worse.

And when he's not actually being asked to do anything or manning any of the tables, he's getting a chance to meet some of the other people in town. Which is... not too bad? Nah, not too bad. ]

option four: network

Okay, so, what the hell are we supposed to do for fun around here?

option three: pta bakesale

[babyhunter]

[Clary doesn't know Scott, not in the strictest sense but the school was small enough that it's hard to go unnoticed and Scott had gained a quick reputation for being what her mother would have coined a bay-boy. Not that Clary put much stock into the term but she always found it interesting.]

Hi.

[She flashes him a smile before glancing down at the sweets. She'd come to draw but she needs fuel.]

Any recommendations on what's good or should I just pick something and get out of your way?

[It isn't busy but Clary has always been candied with her phrasing.]

Sharon Carter | MCU

[postpartor]

one;
[ It's not a hard sell, that she was in an accident. SHIELD Special Service, CIA - you sign up for death work, eventually death will come knocking.

It's the circumstances that she doesn't believe. It's the doctors, it's the town. It's why she didn't stay in spite of their reassurances and requests, and why she left as politely as she possibly could. She's in hostile territory, one way or another, and if they're going to pretend to be friendly, she's going to pretend to be friends.

She's made it about half-way to the sheriff's office on smiles and sheepish looks, and the lack of anything overtly wrong here is starting to get to her. ]


three;
[ Sharon has an undeniable sweet tooth. This, she has learned about herself in the past ten minutes, drawn by the temptation of advertising and the smell of delicious baked goods.

Her first pass through the park is to mark the lines of approach, the areas of highest human density, potential sniper positions, cover, best places to lose herself if needed.

She feels better having done it. Good enough to take her eyes off her surroundings long enough to buy herself a brownie. ]

III

[comesfrompain]

[Bake sales aren't really Rumlow's thing. It's not that he hates sweets, it's more that he doesn't need to fuck up his diet. Kenzi, however? He figures he can pick something up for her (and Jefferson too, if he's interested). They'll appreciate it, and maybe it'll work to cheer them up after what's been going on lately. He's just browsing for now, looking at the selection before he makes his choice when he spots someone doing a familiar behavior.

That's a perimeter scan if he's ever seen one. It's subtle, of course, but if you know how the game works, it's easy to pick up. Rumlow keeps his eyes on the blonde (she seems familiar, somehow) as he weaves through the soccer moms. She's standing by one of the brownie dealers -- because really, they might as well be drugs -- and Rumlow sidles up, peering down at the neatly wrapped treats.]

Brownie, hunh? Figured you'd go for one of Linda's famous blondies to match the hair.

[It's not a good line, but Rumlow's not here to flirt. Just get an assessment, see if maybe that familiarity carries. If she knows him (and doesn't inexplicably hate him), then he might be able to get some more answers. With situtional awareness like she's got, he'd put money down that she's an agent in her own right.]

Kaulder | The Last Witch Hunter

[byironandfire]

Option Two: Into the Woods

Kaulder can't convince any of the nearby locals that he heard what he did, and honestly, he isn't the sort of man to waste time trying. That sounded like a scream to him, and so he thunders off into the woods without a glance back to see if anyone has decided to follow him.

There's no one. The woods are eerily silent around him now, and that sets him on edge for reasons he can't quite remember. Neither can he remember why he's able to pick out broken branches, scuff marks in the dirt that no animal made; he was never a hunter, was he?

(Hunter. That resonates with him, someplace deep.)

No, never a hunter. One can tell by the way he turns a full circle and calls out a booming, "Hello?!" His voice echoes back to him, but it isn't chased by evidence of the sound that drew him here in the first place. There's nothing but the sound of his own breathing - and maybe the snap of a twig as someone approaches. He turns.

Option Three: Bake Sale

[You might think Kalder doesn't indulge in double chocolate chunk cookies, but you'd be wrong. They're not even a dirty secret: people know exactly who will buy one (or four) if they're waved under the right nose.

It doesn't hurt that proceeds go to the school. In some memory-muddled and deeply subconscious part of his brain, he knows Elizabeth would have gone here if she had lived. Doling out somewhat generously to fundraisers like this one is a private way of honoring her. Thus, he's all smiles with the soccer moms, gentle teasing with the students, and politely curious about anything he might not recognize.

Like gluten- and dairy-free brownies.]

So how do you make brownies without any of the ingredients?


Option Four: Network

[On the Wayward Pines Message Board]

Just looking for a little conversation on a slow Saturday evening. Never thought you'd see me admit to that, did you? - K

un: stvitus

[bastardofipswich]

what kind of "conversation"??? is it one that starts with A/S/L?

vanessa ives | penny dreadful

[scorpiorum]

i. i'll seek you out (exiting hospital)

[She fled.]

[The moment she felt that there weren't eyes on her, she fled.]

[As confusing as her mind is right now, as much as she's afraid of the images and voices and faces that flash about in her mind as a reality that she can't claim as her own, she doesn't want to chance being kept longer than what's expected for waking up from an accident. Perhaps if she's caught she'll be taken back, and they will hold her for longer and longer and longer, but. It's a chance she's willing to take right now. As cloudy as her mind is now, she doesn't need or want it to become murkier. Let them come, she tells herself. She will not go silently, nor will she go kicking and screaming. Instead, she shall fight. Though they be blunt, it shall be tooth and claw to bring her back.]

[Vanessa draws her stolen coat around herself a little tighter. Although the weather is not wholly unpleasant — staying in the sun is warmer than creeping along the shadows — that does not mean that the crispness of the spring morning air does not seep down into her bones. Vanessa keeps her hand gripped tightly around the wallet in the coat's pocket. She walks hurriedly down the street, ducking into the first clothing store she sees. She doesn't bother with trying anything on. Instead, she makes a beeline for the undergarments, grabbing what looks like it could fit, and then quickly to find a sweater and skirt. She only stops to briefly test that the shoes she's selected will fit without giving her blisters. The cashier and handful of other employees give her a few looks (and perhaps you are, too), but she's careful to keep her eyes downcast. It's an old trick, one she'd learned a long time ago. (Or was it a long time ago?) Keep quiet and don't make eye contact. Make yourself small. No one will say anything, and assume that any intrusion upon seemingly bizarre behavior will result in an outburst or escalation.]

[She pays cash and disappears into the restroom to change, careful to lock the door behind her. The slippers stay to act as socks, but the gown is stuffed deep in the trash, covered with discarded paper towels. As for the coat and wallet, Vanessa leaves them behind inside the stall. Guilt twists itself in her stomach as she pockets the leftover money. Vanessa pauses to look at herself in the mirror, and then looks away as she unlocks the door to the bathroom.]

[It's a clean break that she's hoping for, but unfortunately, she's collided into someone. Or perhaps the door's collided with someone instead.]

Oh! I-I'm sorry, [she says, quickly regaining her balance.] Are you alright?

ii. flay you alive (pta)

[It's the smells rather than any knowledge of the bake sale that draws Vanessa toward the park. She merely observes for a few moments before making the decision to cross the street. She peruses for a long time, weaving her way through the crowd and tables to look at the wares. She listens carefully to conversations around her, finding it all to be quite mundane. Parents are coordinating with other parents to set up playdates and other projects. Organizers of the event are quickly shuffling around to split up any potential disputes and to make sure there's enough money at the various tables. Others talk about the weather. A few talk about municipal concerns that are of no interest.]

[Eventually, Vanessa settles on purchasing some pumpkin chocolate chip cookies. They may be a bit out of season, but she doesn't particularly mind having the taste of October in spring. As she's beginning to eat one of the cookies, she does something she isn't sure she should do or not: she speaks to someone nearby.]

These are quite delicious, [she says with a smile.] I would ask for the recipe, but I'm afraid it would be in poor hands.

iii. one more word & you won't survive (network; un: scorpio)

I could use someone to talk to.

[That's it. That's all she chooses to write.]

iv. and i'm not scared of your stolen power (wildcard)

eye eye

[rosewitch]

[Question: Why is Anthy here? This isn't a fundraiser for her class. She's obviously not a parent. She hates getting involved in functions of any sort and would, for the most part, prefer to stay in the background.]

[Answer: We just don't know. Anthy doesn't, either. She wandered in here, and she thinks she may have had a reason when she first entered into the crowd, but now--]

[She just hates crowds so much. This was a mistake. Was she looking for someone? And now some woman is talking to her. She looks up at Vanessa, wide-eyed and tight-mouthed.]

Oh. [She opens and closes her mouth for a moment, then adds, stupidly:] Pumpkins are hard to clean out.

kylo ren | star wars

[ren_egade]

pta bake sale

[Ren has been planet-side before, and externally this one seems average at best. Breathable air, only a small amount of radiation, inhabited. Once on the surface though, at least in this particular village, things seem off. Not that Ren really knows how he's gotten here. Crash landed, he'd guess, judging by the accident the local medics have called it. Except they don't even have bacta, and Ren is left without what he imagines is a massive chunk of his memories missing, mind unhealed from whatever damage it has taken.

Worse still is the conflict in his head (that somehow feels familiar as a concept, even if the subject is new), thoughts and memories that can't possibly be his. They contradict certain truths and leave him in a constant state of frustration. As loathsome as it is, there's one truth even worse. He's stuck here. With no ship in sight, he's left to wait for someone to fetch him, though who or what that is as much a blank as so many other things.

All there is for him to do is assimilate. Try and endure the mundanity of this backwater planet and hope that he regains his memories. While he's strangely been provided with housing, Ren is largely bereft of food, and while he has the equivalent of credits to purchase more, cooking is beyond him. The temptation of a place with readily made food is too much a temptation, even if he has to endure the thoughts that come unfiltered into his mind. He tries to shut them out as he makes his way through the throngs of women, hoping he doesn't end up running into one of the people here that claim to know him.]

on the network

  [un: knight]

Who is Lisa Frank and where is she seeing all these multi-colored animals?

un: stvitus

[bastardofipswich]

░░░░░░░░▄██▄░░░░░░▄▄░░
░░░░░░░▐███▀░░░░░▄███▌
░░▄▀░░▄█▀▀░░░░░░░░▀██░
░█░░░██░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░
█▌░░▐██░░▄██▌░░▄▄▄░░░▄
██░░▐██▄░▀█▀░░░▀██░░▐▌
██▄░▐███▄▄░░▄▄▄░▀▀░▄██
▐███▄██████▄░▀░▄█████▌
▐████████████▀▀██████░
░▐████▀██████░░█████░░
░░░▀▀▀░░█████▌░████▀░░
░░░░░░░░░▀▀███░▀▀▀░░░░

what you mean pandas don't look like this where you're from?

harry potter | ota

[lightningscar]

into the woods

[ Harry hears the scream, and his instinct is immediate. He spares only a passing glance at the worried looking townsfolk before heading into the woods in search of the person in trouble, clutching his wand tightly. Pretty soon though he realises he's not really sure which direction the scream came from. ]

Hello?

[ Nobody shouts back, and he can see nothing in sight as he makes his way through the trees. It's growing dark though, and the overhanging trees mean visibility is already getting difficult. ]

Lumos. [ The tip of his wand lights up the surrounding area of the forest, but nothing more illuminating shows up in the way of who let out that awful scream.

Undeterred, Harry keeps going. He knows what he heard. Someone's out here, in trouble. The further he goes though, the more uncertain and weary he gets. After ten minutes of wandering the forest, he has to wonder if someone's put some sort of curse on him. He leans heavily against a tree. It feels like he's putting all his energy into meerely holding his wand up at this point. ] Hello? [ He calls once again, voice a little weak now. ]

Is- Is there anyone out here?

on the network; text

Has anyone here heard of the name Lord Voldemort before?

wildcard

[ Harry can be found all over town. Feel free to choose your own adventure. ]

into the woods

[babyhunter]

[Clary first wanders into the woods to draw. What she doesn't plan on, is getting horribly lost.

Her sketchbook is clenched against her chest, her grip on her pencil turning her knuckles white. Tension mounts in her shoulders and the sudden echoing scream only makes it worse. 'Great.' She thought as she wandered through the dense forest.

'I've become the main character of a horror movie or the starting scene who always dies.'

It wasn't the best thing to think.]

Hello?

[She sees the light flare and the distance and jumps and screams.]

Ah! Oh, hi. You're not a crazy ax murder right?

[Clary is just checking.]

wendy lin | the cabin in the woods.

[chemtech]

[option four - textin']

You guys. This little joke is getting old.
You need to stop messing around and come get me.
I really don't want to file a report with HR.

SN; DJ-Defrag

[blindpuppet]

Who are you messaging?
If you tell people where you are someone can come find you

curtis everett | snowpiercer

[revoltings]

option one; welcome to wayward pines

[ They keep telling Curtis it's a miracle he didn't lose his life. You could have lost a lot more than your arm, sir. Strangely enough though when Curtis touches the slip cover that covers where his arm is no longer attached he feels calm. Calmer than he has in a while. He starts to believe that maybe they're right. It could have been worse. It could have been his legs. Could have been both his arms. In the back of his mind theirs a voice that keeps nagging at him. It was time. It was time. He shuts the voice out though. The thoughts don't make sense. He's not that evolved is he? To believe that losing his arm was the best option.

But Curtis has more to worry about. The gaps in his memories. He remembers a train. He remembers the blistering cold. Frost nipping at his cheeks. The doctors try to put together a narrative. They don't quite know everything, but they can make a guess. Drunk. Homeless. He passes out with his arm over the tracks and then a train runs through. Taking him down the tracks with it. Taking him a full town over. Stopping just outside of this town when they finally realize their mistake. It's a miracle, sir. He's not sure if it feels like a miracle. It feels wrong, but that's expected with the memory gaps.

His instincts kick in once all the doctors and the nurses give him some peace. His instincts to leave. To keep moving. To take care of himself. He's been unconscious for quite some time. Long enough for his stump to heal over. He wouldn't leave if he thought for a second he was in danger. Curtis gets gone pretty quickly come night fall. It's hard to break into a donation bin with one arm, but he does it. Changing into some ratty clothes and a knit cap before he disappears trying to find a way out of here. But he doesn't get anywhere. He doesn't get anywhere for two days before he finally comes back into town. Hand clutching his stump as he moves like a bulldozer down the sidewalk.

At some point Curtis stops outside a shop window. Eyes watching the people inside closely. Studying their movements. ]

option two; pta bake sale

[ He hasn't bothered to go near that many people. But eventually hunger gets to Curtis. He finds himself holding out longer than he expects any person should be able to, but perhaps he's just used to being hungry. Used to getting scraps and living off them for days. The bake sale draws Curtis in though. The smells. The idea that food is left there and the crowds can hide any sort of sly movements. He uses the crowd and the people to his advantage. Blending in and swiping whatever he can find.

If he is caught then it's easy to see that he has no malicious intent. He's just hungry. Hungry and too paranoid to really trust anyone that might be able to help him. Any sort of niceness will indeed confuse Curtis. People aren't nice. People don't give back. They don't give you anything other than a kick when you're down. Frozen limbs. Bruises marking your skin. That's what people give back to other people. Nothing good. ]

option one

[toten_sie]

[ Randel's been watching him as he makes his own way to the supermarket; the man looks like one of the people he used to work with in the memories that don't take place here, the people who need war relief worst of all. It makes him want to help, but he isn't sure how; while he knows what his war was like, the world he came from, there's no telling what this man has faced. But some things are simple and universal, which is why he slips into one of the little cafes nearby and gets a meal bagged up along with a warm tea. Hoping that the man isn't gone by the time he'd gotten everything, he makes his way back to the shop and carefully holds out the food with what he hopes is a comforting smile. ]

You look like you could use it.

mia allen | evil dead.

[detoxes]

[option one - the edge of town]

When they finally deemed her healthy enough to leave the hospital - it must've been days - she took off, not really knowing where to go. Her attempts to escape the bed had been foiled by one nurse after the other. She was in pretty bad shape, and they simply couldn't let her walk around or risk her stitches coming undone.

She's still in pretty bad shape when she steps outside, but she pushes the discomfort to the back of her mind, picks a direction, and sticks with it. Eventually, she finds the edge of this strange town. It takes her some time to get there, thanks to all the limping, but she does her best, scowling and gritting her teeth through the pain along the way.

She follows the road, only stopping for a rest when she really needs it. It takes hours.

And then she winds up right back where she started, wandering into town.

She doesn't remember turning or anything. But - there she is. Back in this town. Someone mentioned this was Idaho? Mia has no idea how she wound up thousands of miles away...

She tries again, and again she fails.

It's distressing to say the least.

She yells with frustration, kicking the nearest tree trunk with her good foot.

[revoltings]

Curtis is outfitted in ratty clothes he took from a donation bin. The jacket is a little bit big, but it fits. The left sleeve of the coat is rolled up and pinned in place where his stump starts. He looks dirty. Which is a feat considering he got out of the hospital a few days. He was freshly cleaned when he left. But he's been trying to find a way home. Dirt always finds it's way back onto Curtis Everett. Sticking to his skin. His hair. Under his nails. Beard growing less and less maintained.

The yell makes him jerk up. His ears listening to follow the sound as a thump echoes. He's been laying low among the trees for a while now. Away from people. Usually Curtis runs. Makes his way away from people when he hears them approaching, but she could need help. For as much as Curtis isn't sure he trusts people he doesn't like the idea of leaving someone out there that might need help. His own kindness betrays him more often than he cares to admit.

He reaches up with his hand to remove the knit hat from his head. Hand brushing over short hair. "You okay?"

Taako Taaco | The Adventure Zone

[fromtv]

PTA Bake Sale

Ooooh boy. Oh boy. This is right up Taako's alley! Baked goods. Perfect. Move over Helen, T to the double A to the K-O is on the scene and he is proud about it! He struts down the line to a free table and plops down the cloth bundles he's holding dear to his chest.

The baskets full of baked goods sit handsomely atop the table. The elf ponders the placement for a second, another, and then completely rearranges everything. One more time. Maybe lay those scones out a little, have them tumble out invitingly... That's a good look. Also a good look: The way Taako casually levitates behind the table, legs crossed in the air as he reclines with his arms similarly crossed behind his head. Don't freak out! This is relaxed. It's chill. It's fine.

It's not really fine. He casts multiple nervous glances down to the scones and macaro(o)ns, belying his general devil-may-care aura. Every now and then he picks one up to inspect, a surprisingly critical eye being given to the pastry before he plays up the whole 'I totally don't care' persona again. Occasionally he even tests and tastes and nibbles at one, when he thinks no one's looking.


WILDCARD
[Got something else in mind? I'm down for anything, anywhere!]


((Will match style.

Taako has no real canon appearance outside of being an elf. He's been described (spoilers behind the link) with a few traits including long hair, no facial hair, a slight build, ethereal, feminine beauty, and having a pointed wizard hat - In keeping with the tone of the canon, I will personally avoid making any direct hint toward any particular appearance and keep my portrayal as neutral as canon does.))

bake sale!

[detoxes]

He takes a nibble of a macaroon and --

"Ohmygosh. These are so cute."

A girl stands in front of his table, rocking back and forth on her feet as she takes in everything that's on display. There's so many different baked goods! And her stomach's rumbling unpleasantly.

"Everything looks amazing. What are your prices like?"

She probably can't afford a single thing. But she might as well ask. Maybe this guy accepts trades...?

Finn // Star Wars TFA

[withtheresistance]

OPTION THREE

It wasn't until he'd wandered over to a table filled with cupcakes that Finn realized he was ravenous. His stomach gurgled and rumbled as he eyed the treats laid out before him, licking his lips and staring with a longing that could be compared to seeking water in the middle of a desert! Close. He's seeking food in the middle of desserts!

He'd only just gotten his clothes back, still waiting on the memories, but maybe there was a chance he had some money on him! A few bucks? Any spare change floating around in the pockets of his jacket?

Nothing. Zip. Zilch. Just a few metal bolts and a pinch of... sand? That's not going to go very far at a bake sale.

The next person that stops by the table looks friendly enough. Finn taps them lightly on the arm with the back of his hand, smiling and trying not to look too desperate. "Hey. Hi there. Is there any chance you could get me one of those? See, there was this accident and I just got out of the hospital and I can't remember the last time I ate." Or... anything else, for that matter. Besides his name! First name. And snow covering the ground in a forest? And... a girl.

OPTION FOUR - Network

UN: Finn2187

I'm looking for a ride out of town. I need a driver. If someone could give me a lift, that would be great. The sooner the better. Serious offers only, please.

4 - un: doesithavewings

[volitaunt]

[Who else could that be. WHO ELSE COULD THAT BE. ]

Get me a vehicle and you've got a driver.

Castiel | Supernatural

[cellphoneangel]

Option One: Welcome to Wayward Pines

[When it comes to being in the hospital, Castiel is the spirit of politeness and willingness to do what the staff asks of him. The few memories he have are ones he turns over in his mind repeatedly as if something new might be gleaned from them as he smiles at the nurses and lets the doctors finally pronounce him fit to leave. It's useless stuff on the whole: how the stars looked from the backseat of a loudly purring black car, the name 'Winchester', the word 'assbutt', a leather jacket hanging up, and someone dragging him along while shouting his name. It's all disjointed, not making any sense. His rescue from the car accident?]

[The nurses and doctors are kind in his opinion despite their inability to tell him much of anything. For some reason that doesn't bother Castiel in the least. He signs his name where they tell him, lets them look him over and advise him as they want to. When he's dressed, pronounced ready to go home, he steps outside of the hospital and studies the little card they gave him with directions to his home.]

[Strange, only 'Castiel' is written on the card, a smear where a last name would have been. The same happened in the hospital whenever he asked what his full name was. The reply had been garbled or the nurse didn't have it on that particular form. After awhile, he stopped asking. It didn't seem important.]

[He's standing before one of the Official Notice signs when he turns to whatever unfortunate happens to be walking by. At a glance, Castiel is nothing impressive... an accountant sort in an off the rack suit with a tan trenchcoat over it. Real confusion is on his face as he looks from the sign to them.] What does that mean? Is there somewhere else I should be going? Life before?

[With only his five memories, Castiel can't imagine yet wanting or needing to leave. He's more about trying to find his own house among all the others. The address card clutched in his hand is useless since he doesn't remember what the street names are.]


Option three: PTA Bakesale

[Castiel is pretty sure he offended the woman behind the stand when he had tried one of her peanut butter and jelly cookies. Without his memory, he had no idea why that particular thing had called to him. The taste had been overwhelming though. Angels (except for Gabriel) didn't eat or couldn't. They tasted things on the molecular level, and it was like being blasted with fifty levels of a single thing all at once. His hand pressed over his mouth, Castiel tries not to sick up the single bite he had taken. Gentle hands were on his shoulders, offering him water. Even it is a hit of its own that is unpleasant.]

[Apologies made with his best puppy eyes, he finally reassures her that he's not ill off her cooking. When the kind woman suggests maybe he had a peanut allergy he didn't remember, Cas is quick to take that out. He has no idea what an allergy feels like, but something tells him that isn't right. Eating and drinking doesn't appeal to him even if he likes the smell of things. Giving her what little money he had brought with him as a donation, he slips away to look over other stalls... to study the people around. All he wants is a familiar face or someone who recognizes him.]

[A flash comes from someone's camera and the black shadow of wings span out from Castiel's back in that instant, gone the next. Optical illusion, right? He doesn't notice it. Instead, he walks on to look over the next booth.]


Option four: on the network (un:castiel) (yeah, he's not that imaginative.)

I think I might be missing my car. I remember it, but it isn't in the garage. It's a black 1967 Impala. I think it has Kansas plates. I need to find it. Has anyone seen it?

4 - un:winchester

[man_pain]

that's MY car, you asshole.

Peter Pan | OUAT

[beallandendall]

Option 1: Welcome to Wayward Pines

The idea of a hospital wasn't novel, but it also didn't feel right. The fact that he woke up in one with kindly looking nurses informing him of the bad fall that left him concussed and why was he always climbing around in the trees to begin with? His questions were met with warm smiles, pats on the hand and annoying lights checking his pupillary reflexes. The doctor was just as kind, which grated on his nerves and drove him out of the hospital window by the second morning.

Something wasn't right. There was something wrong in his head. That had been days ago, but neither the fog nor the ringing in his ears had abated. It annoyed him, and it seemed when he was annoyed, he became destructive. Trophies from apparent events he couldn't recall the details off with the first to go, heads of the figures snapped off then the torsos. Strange stupid trucks with remote controls were driven into the mud, into fences, off of ledges specially to break them.

None of these items felt like his, and he could tell deep down that he knew what belonged to him. This was some prank. Someone was playing a joke, and he wasn't laughing in the least.

Sitting on the side-walk edge, remote control in hand, his latest 'monster truck' was spinning around the middle of the road. He moved it out of the way as drivers passed a few times, and then he purposefully rammed it under the wheels. Okay, that made him smile as a loud crunching sound ended its pathetic little electronic life. That left him picking at the controller, seeking away to take it apart.

Option 2: Into the Woods

Peter liked trees, liked to climb them. He felt more at home in the woods than he did in the cookie-cutter house that he was forced to spend his evenings in. Often times, he was sneaking out of the house to go to the forest, though for some reason, he had never bothered to travel that deep into its confines. He found the best trees near the periphery and climbed it, lounging in the branches, picking spring blossoms and tugging off the petals one by one.

Today, he was feeling particularly adventurous and risky. A scream was more thrilling than frightening, and as a 'curious teenager', he moved deeper into the woods in order to find the source. An animal? Maybe but doubtful. That sounded like a person, and maybe, just maybe they had fallen badly and he could see bone exposed from a broken limb or some blood. That would be worth the entire venture!

Instead, he was slowly at the massive fence that seemed to stand in his way as he peeked around the trees. Hopping down from the trunk he had been standing on, he approached cautiously but with full intention of getting closer. The hairs on the back of his neck rose. He felt heavy of limb and his ears began to ring again as he forced one foot in front of the other.

How far could he push himself? Very was the answer. He was a master of his own domain, and even when he was forced to his knees, crawling like a pathetic babe, he still snarled and forced himself forward... reaching, ever reaching to say he touched the fence...

Option 4: Network

Bonfire tonight. In the woods. Bring sticks appropriate for boyish antics. No parents allowed.

un: stvitus

[bastardofipswich]

sticks for boyish antics? what're we going to do: hit each other with em?

Freya Vaughn | Werewolf Original Character

[luckyescape]

ON THE NETWORK - TEXT

SN - Wolfish_Glee

Okay. So on a scale of 1 - 10. Rate the following bands and tell me your favorite song. If you haven't heard of these bands please go to the music store and educate yourself because I feel bad for you.
Nirvana
Ace of Base
Spin Doctors
Bon Jovi
Journey
Tears for Fears
Wham!

P.S. I'm a mechanic and while this is what I spent my down time doing. Hit me up if your car starts making weird ass noises.

sn - The_Wizard

[magicmishap]

[ Merlin is somewhat amused by the way she just goes right out and states things, but he is too drawn to the idea to not reply. Especially since it triggers a surge of memories about what bands he loves and had records of before the accident.]

How about instead;
1 - Bon Jovi - Living on a Prayer
2 - Journey - Don't Stop Believing
3 - Panic! At the Disco - This is Gospel
4 - Phil Collins - Strangers Like Me
5 - Weird Al - Foil
6 - Elton John - Rocket Man
7 - Eric Clapton - Tears in Heaven

What do you think?

Alexander Pierce | Marvel Cinematic Universe

[peacemongering]

Option 1: Welcome to Wayward Pines

Heart attack. Sudden collapse, they said and the bruising definitely indicated a fierce bout of CPR. Why did three spots feel particularly tender then? Those were questions that floated through his mind as he exchanged pleasantries with the nurses, offering no fuss as his blood pressure was taken, and he was certain to flirt enough to send the eldest ones blushing from the room. They answered none of his questions otherwise, except for one that would relate to his release date, what was on the menu, and what the weather was going to be tomorrow.

When it was clear, his other pressing questions wouldn't be answered, he filed them away. Upon his release, he returned home to a quaint little two-storey house with a rich burgundy paint job where white was the accents. A nice picket fence, neat and well kept gardens, and a small foo-foo dog (bichon frise, thank you very much) named Zola.

He checked the mail box. He sat on the porch watching the coming and goings of the populous ("Good day to you, Principal!", "Lovely weather, Mr. Principal!", "Your gardens are looking tip-top shape, sir!"). There were others beyond the pleasantries, people who seemed to know more than they let on, who had questions without answers. He had nothing but the inkling that there was a matter at hand which required his attention... like a splinter in his flesh he needed to pick at in order to remove.

However, he didn't answer. He observed. He returned to the routine that was expected of him so that he could continue dig for answers subtly. A morning jog with Zola bounding along at his heels. Reading the morning paper with nothing new or interesting. Returning to work as principal of the school and greeting his students each morning ("Tuck in those shirt tails, Mr. Taylor." and "Do you have a problem, Mr. Smith? No, do you want one? Off to class now.").

Alexander took a walk around the school grounds, waving to his fellow staff and recording all the strange blandness of this place. Children were the most honest, but even some of them were shy with answers to some of his more prying questions. Every day, the unsettled feeling grew and he wanted to find answers but each step around the grounds was the same routine.

Option 3: PTA Bake sale

As principal of the school and a supreme organizer of events, he was there as the first one in the morning setting up the tables, organizing where each of the baked goods would go (No, the lovely pies go on that table over there). He kept some of the parents on task until the bake sale kicked off with a flurry of the quaint little town coming to support the event.

And he was there, chatting, ribbing, and encouraging the sales. Where one individual was being too cheap, he encouraged further sales. ("Think of the children whose parents took the time and effort to make such splendid goods! It's our job to compliment and support, which includes purchases!") It was all going so well with the young ones rubbing about with icing smeared on their faces, so hopped up on sugar that he was glad it was a Friday and no school the next day.

The sales were going well with the combined efforts of teachers, parents and children sticking their greedy little fingers into goods while their parents sighed and brought out more coin. He smiled warmly, bent to a knee to speak to the little ones, asking of their days, asking when it would be their turn to try out school and to tell him a joke or show him a trick. Children, after all, were the future and his view was that their skills were best started young. How else would one mold the future to one's liking?

And near the end, he stood with the head of the PTA and addressed the crowd. "I want to thank everyone who came out to support the bake sale this year. It was such a success and we owe it all to your fine people. With these funds, we will be able to make needed upgrades to our extracurricular program!" All smiles, more hand shaking and casual comments.

"Oh, there appears to be one more set of cupcakes left. Who wants to take them home?"

Option 4: Network

I require a handyman or handywoman to assist me in some basic repairs to my shed. It appears a family of raccoons took a brief stay, and they've rather made a mess of the wood.

III

[comesfrompain]

When Rumlow had decided to hit up the local bake sale to procure treats for the house, he really hadn't expected such a turn out. It was like the entire town was here, greedy for confections. Rumlow wasn't particularly tempted, but he browsed the stalls all the same, trying to pick up a little of everything to keep Kenzi satisfied for the week. Among the crowds were familiar faces, locals generally, though by the look of some, he had to wonder.

Rumlow was packing his haul to leave when he heard a microphone tap; he turned to look at the head table. Standing there was the leader of the local PTA and --

"No way."

Pushing through the crowd and muttering a few 'excuse me's' to make sure he didn't step on any toes (literally or figuratively), Rumlow made his way to the front so he could get a better view. There was no mistaking it though. That was Alexander Pierce, member of the World Security Council and a top dog in SHIELD. There was something else too, but it was just another fuzzy memory and Rumlow frowned at his own brain damage not for the first time.

He stared up at him, trying to make eye contact to indicate they needed to talk, once Pierce was finished with his little spiel. How had he not known he was here? There was a notion that Pierce had a position here, something to do with the school, but he didn't have much of a connection with the place. Maybe that was why. Did Pierce even remember him? Or was he suffering from the same amnesia that affected them all? Rumlow had a lot of questions and damn, he really hoped Pierce could answer some of them.

han solo (OLD!!) | star wars

[grumpyoldhan]

OPTION 3: PTA BAKE SALE
PTA events. Han always hated these things, tried to make himself as scarce as possible whenever one of these fundraising events rolled around. Leia usually made him show up in her stead, anyway-- at least, when she was too busy to do it, herself. Gotta support the kids and their education. But she's got a better head for politics than he ever did. Navigating the egos of the other parents is way more up her alley than Han's. He just has a tendency to rub people the wrong way a lot of the times, and it hasn't gotten better with age.

He thought, when Ben graduated, they wouldn't have to deal with this crap anymore. But nah, 'this is our home' and 'children are the future,' so it looks like he's stuck dealing with the PTA until the day he dies.

Because he drew the short straw this time, Han's at the bake sale with an offering of cupcakes, fresh from... the bakery. What? Leia's a busy lady, and she doesn't have a domestic bone in her body. She doesn't bake for him, let alone the entire town. And no matter how many times he tries to point out that they might as well just donate the money spent at the bakery straight to the school, she won't have it.

It's important to network, or some baloney like that.

So, here's Mr. Solo, lounging in his fold-out chair behind a table of immaculate cupcakes, all while he reads an automotive magazine, wishing he was anywhere but here and projecting a general air of 'grumpy hermit'.

[defenderofmen]

Elena had been given the assignment of 'covering' the bake sale for the local Wayward Pines newspaper which meant that she had to walk around and make sure she asked everyone the appropriate questions. It wasn't so bad, she snacked along the way, internally telling herself it was for research purposes only.

When she spotted Han her eyebrows rose, an entertained smile playing across the delicate curve of her lips. "You look like you'd rather be anywhere but here. Cupcakes got you down or is it something else?"

She tucked a lose strand of hair behind her ear while pulling the small pad of paper from her pocket. All notes helped.

Ardyn Izunia | FFXV |

[of_no_consequence]

option one: welcome to wayward pines

[ He wakes up.

Some part of him thinks he shouldn't wake up. Some part of him is angry that he's woken up, though a bit of thoughtful examination is unhelpful in determining why that is. But now that he is up, he looks around, looks down at his bandages and his wounds and frowns at them, as they are as unfamiliar as everything else. He takes a moment to take stock otherwise, of his body, his mind, and after a moment he reaches his hand out to call one of his weapons to hand (he remembers those, feels them like an extension of himself) but the whole thing is interrupted by a nurse. Smoothly, as if he'd merely been stretching, he draws his arm back and then it's just a matter of playing the ever patient patient to get her to leave.

Not here. Which is where he'd prefer to be.

It's a simple enough matter to sneak out, and his trip to the sheriff's station and thankfully, they hand over his things without much fuss at all. The suit and the coat feel like he's putting his skin back into place. The hat, well: somehow, despite remembering so little, he can say with the utmost confidence that he feels like himself again.

The umbrella is simply a nice addition, and he's glad to have it.

Which leaves him with the town before him, a main street he hardly knows and shops he determines he'll soon learn. After all, it's a beautiful day for a stroll... ]

option three: pta bakesale

[ Is there anything more delightful than a beautiful day scented with pastries and filled to the brim with the denizen of their wonderful little town?

Yes. Ardyn would say there definitely is, and it mostly involves a large number of corpses, but no one asked him. Well, other than the narration and that doesn't count.

All the same, he can't say he doesn't enjoy the pastries at the very least, and given the funds at his disposal, he is allowing himself to indulge. Though he's amusing himself a game of it, charming the various mothers to see if he can start a fight or at the very least a long running cold war-like feud.

So sue him. It's amusing. ]

option four: network

If you had to pick your favorite part about this town, what would it be? I'm just curious,
of course. No pressure.

pta bakesale - .

[blindpuppet]

[Enis wanders through the tables of baked treats like a lost tourist in New York city. A few the site light up her deep blue eyes but her expression otherwise looks confused and lost.

Her fingers tug at the pocket of her jeans as she makes the conclusion that she should just get back to work. Enis has never been good around teens, despite the fact that her own features were cherubic in their very nature.

Enis spots Ardyn but gives him no mind. Another middle-aged man trying to flirt with mothers. It isn't until she sees him flashing his charming smile at several different women that she walks up to him, her gaze curious and thoughtful.]

You're just a dick aren't you.

[Her voice is cool and logical, stating the sentence more as a fact that a question.]

dutch | killjoys

[avicula]

one: into the woods

[ there are things dutch doesn't remember about herself, and things she does, but the things she doesn't far outweigh what she remembers. there's nothing to explain the anger inside her, but the job she remembers having in another world — in what seems almost like another life time — might explain why she's more inclined to run toward danger instead of away from it.

so when she hears a scream, dutch doesn't stick around to ask anyone whether they heard it, too; she takes off into the woods, one hand going to her hip like she expects to find a weapon there. her hand closes around nothing at all and she just focuses on running, the motion coming easy, her body clearly used to the physical exertion.

until she grows more and more tired, muscles growing heavy. she keeps going for a while longer, jaw set, but eventually stops, putting one hand and her weight against a tree, letting herself rest. there's a fence not too far off, and seeing it sparks something inside dutch's mind. ]

I've seen a wall that could do this before — [ saying it out loud makes it feel more real. she doesn't expect anyone to overhear it. ]

two: network

does the word killjoys mean anything to anyone? what about the RAC?

into the woods

[toten_sie]

[ Ever since he'd encountered the janitor in the woods, Randel's made a point of spending time wandering around, keeping his eyes open, watching to see if there's anything out of the ordinary, anything that might explain the strangeness of this town that he knows and feels like he very much doesn't. When he hears a noise, he heads for the source of it, keeping his distance from the other person he can hear through the trees, hopefully keeping his own sounds somewhat hidden from them, just in case. But when he gets to her, sees her slump, he sighs a little and makes his way over to her.

It hurts, and it drains him, the same as anyone else. But he's got plenty of experience taking huge amounts of damage and still functioning, so he fights through it to make his way to her. He's reasonably certain he can pick her up and get her away from the fence that's slowly killing them but he holds back, especially after he hears what she'd said. ]

Then you should know we need to get away from it. Can I help you?

[ Given that the voice comes with his entrance from the brush, it might be helpful to describe what Dutch is seeing: a seven and a half foot tall man with a prominent scar over his nose and along both cheeks, dressed in an archaic military coat, with a metal lantern hooked to his belt. For all that he's large and his hands are as scarred as his face, his face is young: mid-twenties, though the eyes seem much older, or perhaps just more tired? But if she has any kind of ability to read people or gauge someone's intentions, the important thing is this: he doesn't want to hurt anyone and he's here to try and help her, like he said. ]

Felicity Smoak | Arrow

[betterwithcomputers]

OPTION 1

Felicity didn’t know what she was expecting, maybe a large map marked with an obnoxious red arrow with the text you are here written beneath it? That didn’t make much sense but it made an equal amount of sense compare to the other thoughts flitting around in her head. She had hit her head, that much was obvious but the practical part of her brain told her that it was silly to think that she’s forgotten so much.

She’d picked up her clothes at the police station and found herself wandering around with her hands shoved in her pockets. Nothing looked familiar, it was a little disconcerting.

Her head would turn and watch the windows of the shop while her feet continued forward. It was fine until she ran into some that she’d describe as both hard and soft. Yup, that was a person.

"I. Am. So. Sorry." Her arms failed a bit as she looked at the person she’d run into. "Are you okay?" They were probably fine since Felicity was so small but she felt like redundancy was okay in this situation.

OPTION 4: Texting – User Name: Overwatch

Your friendly neighborhood technical support here.

I’ll be helping anyone who is having trouble with their laptops or phones or anything else you might have. My skills are in software but I dabble in hardware as well so if something isn’t working right bring it to me.

You can chat with me here or stop by the store.
Thank you

margo hanson | the magicians

[gossipkinesis]

{ ᴏᴘᴛɪᴏɴ ᴛᴡᴏ }

Margo doesn't want to be in the woods, she just happened to be near the woods. Besides, her four inch high heeled booties are completely impractical in the woods. She is not some fairy princess running away from her rags to riches story, she doesn't need to tromp through the woods and ruin shoes that cost the same as a plane ticket to Ibiza.

Besides, she's a queen. Any prince will come running to her.

Which is why Margo hears a shriek, recognizes it's not Eliot, the only pure thing in her life and the other half of her soul, and ignores it. Well, she doesn't ignore it. It's obvious she's heard the scream, the way her eyebrows arch and her mouth turns down in a bemused frown, but then she shrugs and turns back to town.

"Well, fuck that."

{ ᴏᴘᴛɪᴏɴ ᴛʜʀᴇᴇ }

A child darts by Margo and she physically recoils, stepping back hurriedly and tugging at her skirt like she is afraid their creepy, sticky little germs will rub off on her.

"Watch it!" Her nose crinkles into a frown. Why is this tiny idyllic hamlet so freakin' Pleasantville? It's offensive. She's offended.

Veering away from shrieking children (gross), she goes on the hunt for coffee to pour her liquor in. It's barely afternoon but she's in a profession where she can day drink -- that profession being currently unemployed.

{ ᴏᴘᴛɪᴏɴ ꜰᴏᴜʀ }

Where is Grindr? Asking for a friend.

4.

[dependently]

Nonexistent. Believe me, I've checked.

[ not that eliot doesn't have bigger things to worry about, but you know. ]