• This section is for roleplays only.
    ALL interest checks/recruiting threads must go in the Recruit Here section.

    Please remember to credit artists when using works not your own.

Fandom ᴅᴇᴀᴅ ʙʏ ᴛʜᴇ ᴛʜɪʀᴛᴇᴇɴᴛʜ, ɪᴄ.

Characters
Here
lostbird

lostbird

𝚓𝚊𝚍𝚎'𝚜 𝚐𝚏
Roleplay Availability
Roleplay Type(s)





DEAD BY THE THIRTEENTH.















scroll

act 1



the entity




ㅎㅎ















where




beyond space











when




beyond time











why




beyond reason












MENTIONS




the killers










MENTIONS




the survivors


















DEAD BY DAYLIGHT — MAIN THEME.
































































scroll






THE ENTITY WILL PLAY,




with our souls for all eternity. an endless hunt of fear and hope, pain and sacrifice from which even death there is no escape.






























CHAPTER 1.

ARCUS 02

I am going through some past scribblings and the notes of the previous unknown occupants, and I realise I should at least try to organise them. Reading these notes, I decipher several voices who I am aptly calling the unknown few who like myself had a fixation with the Entity and who like myself had an ability to experience the memories encoded in the fog.

I will include my past scribblings and number them as best as I can, referring to them as notes obscura, or just obscura, to try and piece together how long I've actually been here.

I think I may have found my first ramblings amongst the half-destroyed journals of the unknown occupants who struggled with infinite possibilities of whiling away the time except the one they probably missed the most. The one I miss the most—friendship, companionship, sitting with my father drinking whiskey and watching the Ancients swim across the night sky, or just losing time with a friend in a hearty conversation about the merits of art, music, laughter and stories.

All I have now are the memories of others. Second-hand experiences that constantly remind me of things lost and half-remembered.

SURVIVORS​
whether stumbling, dragged, or being pulled through the fog, you've arrived at the campfire: an eternal fire that always burns, serving as the epicentre for whats the come. the edges of the site are surrounded by a thick fog, constantly swirling. gaps in the fog part like the wind, showing a peek into something traversable. finding yourself in the wrong place at the wrong time has never felt more absolute than this moment, more undeniable as you realise you're not alone in your misfortune.

multiple unmade strewn tents litter the forest floor. you have the sneaking suspicion that one thing is clear: if you tried to leave, you'd end up right back at the campfire.

KILLERS​
a blink, and you're here—wherever here is.

it's familiar, a place you've been before with some added touches of a thick and dense fog surrounding your new domain. a realm, all for yourself. a playground, of sorts, with interconnected rooms and vast spaces. your memory of the realm is splintered, not fully matching up with the picture so clearly in your mind—the truth is, the Entity tried. replication was quite difficult with its limited understanding of your plane of existence, unremarkable compared to other planets it has already conquered and twisted into its own creation.

"corrupted one," it whispers, the distorted voice bouncing off the invisible walls of the fog in echoes. the entity speaks its intentions for you, calling back to the moments in your life that were so pivotal in its careful selection—sensing the killing potential within and rewarding you so. "entertain me."





























♡coded by uxie♡

START DATE: SEPTEMBER 17TH​
 



  • greta ─ spine chill.





































    • mood



      scared, & confused.
















    Damp leaves beneath her palms crunch as Greta manages to get to her knees. What just happened? She desperately searches her memory, staring straight down at the forest floor under her weight. Dirt found itself wedged under her recently trimmed nails and she blinks as the light emanating from the campfire glints─a flashlight, clutched in her left hand. A disturbing thought comes to mind: how did I not notice that before?

    Her usual perceptive nature, usually so hyperaware of her surroundings, had clearly taken a nosedive in the face of... Greta chances a glance up, to stare at the campfire and recall her last memory. Steve. He left the chamber door open. Greta releases her grip on the flashlight, on the ground, to lean back on her heels and allow reality to wash over her. The black mist.

    "This can't be real. This is not happening." Greta says under her breath, too quiet to hear over the roar of the campfire and the blood rushing through her ears, the thudding of her heartbeat.

    And she wasn't alone here.

    Not very comforted by the thought, Greta slowly gets to her feet and casts an untrusting look at the others in the clearing. She considers the odds of them being behind her sudden kidnapping, but she bites her lip, unsure. Their expressions were equal parts confused and nervous, like herself. This couldn't be some elaborate prank or ruse to keep her suspicions at bay─what was there to gain by taking her, anyway?

    And then she notices something of greater concern. Tents. Some still encased in their sleeves, others partially constructed. No, this is not happening. The insinuation of a more permanent stay leaves Greta's blood running cold. She moves towards a navy coloured tent bundle, constrained in a velcro strap and frowns; there's a darker splotch on the material, three drops in its immediate vicinity. Even without working at the mortuary, Greta could easily comprehend what she was seeing: blood. Old blood.

    Greta turns on her heel, staring at the vast nothingness that stretches on for what seems like miles, that same black mist obstructing any real view of what's beyond. The mist swirls, thickening in areas and she can't help but feel empty. Hopeless. Nothing could force her to venture into it, to be swallowed up by the same thing that brought her here─what if it spat her out somewhere else, somewhere worse?

    Bending on shaky legs, Greta retrieves the blood-spotted navy tent and peels off the velcro. "Do we─just, set up?" She's not sure who she is asking, or if anyone can even hear her breathless whisper.

    But she acts on her instincts, too cowardly to dwell on the implications of why, when, where, how. Fanning out the canvas material─a thought that sickens her, as the heavy duty material again implies permanence─Greta searches the forest floor, looking for other necessary materials and finally, her eyes have appropriately adjusted to the darkness. There's nails, stakes, rope, a hammer, and tarps. And... a sign? Her eyes narrow as she drops the material in her hand, discarding it as she edges closer towards the mist and wooden sign hammered into the dirt.

    Scratched into the plank reads: 'The Shed'. Black mist parts just behind the sign, inviting and taunting.

































    cry for love



    백현










    ♡coded by uxie♡
 



isabella ─ object of obsession.





































  • mood



    stressed, confused.
















After what felt like a lifetime, Isabella looked up and scanned her surroundings. The lack of visibility in any direction unnerved her and she rose to her feet, brushing the dirt from her knees. All she could see was darkness for what was probably miles. She dared not call out for help, unsure of what could be lurking in the black mist. With a deep breath, Sable wiped any residual tears from her cheeks and started in whatever direction she was facing. With a newfound determination to find something or perhaps even someone, she kept her eyes and ears peeled for any sign of life.

What Isabella hadn't anticipated was how horrible it was not knowing where a sound came from when completely surrounded by black mist. A whisper reached her ears, haunting as it echoed around her. Sable broke into a run without a second thought. She had no desire to find out where that whisper had originated, instead focusing on her soft breathing and the feeling of the dirt under her cold feet as they hit the ground soundlessly.

Sable must have been too focused on her running and keeping an eye on her surroundings to realise far too late what she had stumbled upon; there was the silhouette of someone else in the mist and a soft glow in the distance- possibly a campfire. Sable didn't have enough time to take in the whole situation, however, as she slammed into the figure and yelped, hitting the ground with a hard thud.

"Fuuuck." Isabella groaned as she sat up, rubbing her head and turning her gaze to whomever she ran into. Now that they were closer she could see it was another woman and the tension in her shoulders eased somewhat, "Sorry... I didn't think anyone else was here." Sable winced as her head throbbed painfully, feeling a strange amount of guilt for knocking down this complete stranger. I must be going mad.


































ptolemaea



ethel cain










♡coded by uxie♡
 



Ambrose - Dance With Me





































  • mood



    confused, a bit panicked
















It was no stretch to say that so far today had been the strangest day of Ambrose's entire life. One moment he had been gambling his life--and that of his crew's--on being a distraction, taking the attention of the sheriff's men to allow his friends time to escape. Perhaps this heist had been destined to be his last. He'd finally stolen away into a small alleyway, scaring off a wild cat, and took a moment to figure out what to do from here. Without his horse, he certainly couldn't outrun the sheriff and his men, but he also couldn't just give himself up here. They weren't about to let him go free just because he didn't want to hurt them. And besides, he knew without a doubt that the sheriff here was corrupt--they might just shoot him then and there.

Ambrose closed his eyes to take a deep breath, trying to think, when he felt a chill envelop him and he shivered. It was only Autumn in Arizona, which could sometimes get cold, but it was unseasonably frigid for a moment. He felt as if he'd taken an ice bath, feeling an odd tugging sensation at his navel. It hurt, causing him to grit his teeth. Was this what fish on a hook felt like? God, what had he eaten earlier? Ambrose thought he was going to be sick.

At last, he opened his eyes, wondering why that short moment had felt so long. But as he took in the scene in front of him, he blinked, rubbing at his eyes in an attempt to clear them. What have I gotten myself into now? he wondered, though a feeling of relief swept through him momentarily. So he wasn't going to die today. Probably. Unless he was dead already, shot while he had his eyes closed, and this was hell? Or purgatory? It had more of a purgatory vibe.

The fog around him was thick, unnatural. He walked towards the light he could see at the edge of the heavy haze, feeling strange. This must be purgatory; nothing earthly could have the eerie quality that this place possessed. And as far as he knew, Arizona didn't contain any weird fog-filled gloomy swamps. Or, not swamp, but what type of realm this was Ambrose had no idea. He continued his journey toward the light, hoping that he was wrong and this wasn't purgatory. He couldn't leave his crew behind. But even if he was wrong, was there even a way to go back? He sucked in his breath, trying to keep his mind on figuring out what had happened to him.

"Hello?" he called, trying to find another person in the darkness. Surely he couldn't be alone here. Or at least, he hoped not. Purgatory would be worse if he had no company with him. But Ambrose kept walking, resolutely, toward the light, realizing at last that it was a campfire, surrounded by tents that had yet to be put together. Was this where they were meant to wait until their souls were cleansed? Or something? Ambrose's family had been Christian, but he was never the devout type. He pursed his lips, suddenly wishing that he'd paid more attention in Sunday school. Ah well, at least he could use the fire to get rid of the chill that settled into his bones. He stuck his hands out, warming himself while his mind whirred.
































wanted man



royal deluxe










♡coded by uxie♡
 




  • Marcey - Clairvoyance





































    • mood



      I'm Terrified!
















    HUAHH
    Gasps escaped Marcey’s mouth as she jolted upright from where she lay on the cold ground. Her eyes flew open, scanning her surroundings while her hands pressed into the dirt beneath her. It was freezing. Goosebumps crept over her skin, and the chill felt as sharp as snow. Her gaze darted around this dark, mysterious place. She desperately tried to catch her breath, steadying it in an effort to keep her cool.

    She had no idea where she was. No idea how she’d gotten there. One thing was for sure, panicking would not help.

    It was dark, so dark she could barely make out anything except for the faint glow of a campfire in the distance. Marcey pushed herself up, wiping the dirt from the back of her jeans. Her legs moved instinctively, carrying her towards the light in a dazed, almost shocked state of mind. Even as she stepped into the fire’s glow, she felt no warmth. The cold clung to her, seeping into her bones.

    Her heartbeat pounded in her chest, the sound echoing in her ears. Bum bum… bum bum… bum bum.

    The light gave her a better view of everything. Marcey didn’t know what was worse, the fact that she was in this strange place, or the fact that she wasn’t alone. Her body stiffened as she noticed the people around her. Marcey’s guard shot up immediately. Who are they? What’s going on? The questions echoed repeatedly in her mind.

    Something was wrong. Everything felt wrong.

    And then she felt it. A feeling she wished would leave her alone. A feeling she hated the most in the entire universe.

    Dread…

    Her eyes slowly started to gloss over and her hands began to tremble as the feeling rushed through her body like never before. Her whole body felt frozen like a deer in headlights. She wanted to cry, to scream, to throw up, to hit something. This was different than any other time she’s experienced this feeling. It was more than just dread, she could feel the danger. It was surrounding. It was suffocating. It was all over and there was no escaping it, but Marcey felt something that made her wish this was all a dream. It made her wish this was just a vision and she’d wake up back at the library or in her dorm. That something was…

    death.

    Death was all over, clinging to the air and space around. Marcey could smell it, she could taste it, she could feel it, and she could just see it. Wake up. Wake up. Wake up. WAKE UP! she screams internally, begging herself to wake from this nightmare.

    A sudden sound broke through her thoughts, a loud clatter. Her eyes snapped toward the other side of the campfire, landing on a woman who had dropped something. Marcey couldn’t tell what it was, and confusion etched across her face as she watched the woman walk toward what looked like a sign.

    Before she could make sense of it, her attention shifted. Her breath came in quick, uneven gasps and her chest rose and fell heavily. Her gaze turned to the void, locking onto the mist just beyond the campfire's edge. She couldn’t see it, but she could feel it. Something lurked there, just out of sight. Its presence known to Marcey. As much as she hated to admit it, she was terrified. Terrified in a way she hadn’t been since she was a child. The kind of fear that made her wish, for just a moment, that she did not exist.

































    Rises the moon



    Liana Flores










    ♡coded by uxie♡

 



  • floyd ─ adrenaline.





































    • mood



      thrown off track.
















    The world shifted, then stumbled, and finally came to a halt, but his stomach continued to churn like a rat on a wheel. Floyd could feel the firmer ground beneath his feet, replacing the damp dirt paths he had grown accustomed to and traversed over the past few hours. Stale air turned crisp and static, like firecrackers about to go off, filling his lungs as quickly as the realisation that something was very much wrong. He blinked, twice, and at last the tendrils of wispy mist blocking his vision began to recede to the edges of his consciousness. Instead, a blazing campfire took its place in his field of vision, and with it those who were surrounded by its warmth.

    His eyes jumped. From one to the other. Categorising the strangers as he went. Everything from their clothes to their height and their hair. How they stood, what their bodies said without their mouths uttering a single word. Faces were still muted blanks, but at least that was something Floyd was familiar with. Information that his brain could filter and store. Conclusions that were, at best, flimsy reassurances to his finicky mind. Not enough to stop the overwhelming urge of panic beginning to flood his system. Even with two feet firmly planted on the ground and his hands clenched at his sides, the growing sense of drowning remained like a persistent stab. He bit his lips. Where? and Who?

    Movement drew his attention away from his inner turmoil and towards a woman who seemed to have no desire to take the first steps. The subtle trembling in her limbs, the quiver in her voice. Floyd swallowed; a dry cough caught in his throat. Her question and the sound of the velcro being torn open were two sensations so incomprehensible at the moment that he felt they were in separate realities. Floyd could hear the hidden compliance in her words, an acceptance of the situation that made him sick to his stomach. Set up what? The tents? Their future homes?

    Floyd took a heavy step forward, not quite sure whether to help or tear the material apart, when he felt soft paper give way under his shoe. Startled, he looked down to see frayed edges sticking out from under his sole, alongside sticks and stones. Looking around for other objects, but finding none, he quickly bent down to pick it up.

    Stains of ink greeted him as he shook the paper open. Traces of use all over it. A map, his fevered mind supplied, but not finished. Several blurred areas filled the front, indicating places that might be of interest, but giving no details of their nature. Only the centre could be read, the familiar outline of a campfire marking the location. It was as if its creator was challenging him to explore. Daring him to venture into —Floyd looked up, to the horizon beyond the fire— the mist. He wanted to laugh. He usually reserved the sick jokes for Monday mornings.

    With aching fingers, he carefully folded the map and tucked it away. In his pocket for safekeeping. For when he didn't feel like everything was spinning out of control. Like when Floyd happens to get a bad hand in the casino or the whiplash of witnessing a sudden tackle in front of him. "What a shitshow," Floyd muttered under his breath as the blonde woman hit the ground. Traces of contempt layered his voice, not necessarily directed at anyone, but at their current situation. Then another greeting rang out, this time a male voice, and suddenly it was all too much.

    Floyd began to tug at his gloves as he purposefully walked past the tents, not sparing them a second glance, stopping only briefly to pick up a single nail to hold on to. His feet took him to the edge of the site, where the wooden sign pointed north, and the mist parted like open jaws. The direction corresponded to a blurred spot on the map, and though the chances of it being an exit were slim, anything was better than staying here. With the lost or the wicked and the building material demanding that he settle down.

    Silently, he glanced back for a moment. To see if anyone would follow; slightly hoping they wouldn't. Then Floyd pushed forward, ignoring the way the black mist seemed to snap at his heels as he slowly made his way down the path. A blanket of nothingness.

































    necromancin dancin



    bear ghost










    ♡coded by uxie♡
 
Last edited:



nellie ─ repressed alliance.





































  • mood



    relieved, & nervous.
















Nellie gasps as her mind returns to her body, no longer a bystander to her own escape from the compound. A whirl of emotions and questions begin to spin in the already dizzy expanse of her mind, feelings of relief and nerves moulding into a single question amongst the loss of coherent thought: Where am I now?

She turns, half-expecting to see smoke billowing high into the sky, evidence of her arson and the compound burning just beyond the Oregon cliffs. And there's smoke, but not from a fire─it's alive, moving. A fog that pulses without rhythm, little bursts of what might be lightning within illuminates the pitch black darkness and Nellie blinks rapidly to clear her vision, positive that the compound must be right there, not a path leading into the non-existent forest.

Breathing in sharply, her sense of smell doesn't confirm her disillusionment. Corn wasn't burning. Only the wood from the campfire. Slowly, she takes a step back away from the edge of the fog, giving it one last chance to clear and show Nellie what she knows to be true. . . and it doesn't. Trees so tall they touch the sky, the ground beneath her damp and littered with autumnal leaves. She glances down at her attire, where her beige coloured dress drags through the dirt and discoloured the hem.

Relief immediately washes over her, an emotion she hadn't felt for years. When Nathan had caressed her face and assured her that her mother would be delivered to the afterlife amongst the chants of the community. No, that wasn't true─relief came when Marshall had accused the compound of hiding something. A relief less gentle and comforting, more of a slap to the face; a bucket of cold water tipped onto her head, washing away the carefully constructed falsehoods of the community she was born into.

Nellie takes leisurely steps towards the campfire, her arms outstretching to warm her hands─she sucks in a gasp, her fingers are smeared with blood. Travis' blood. Coated in a thin layer of ash from the smoke. There was no doubt it had happened, it was real, but it does nothing to settle her nerves about how she ended up here. . . wherever here is.

Just as Nellie begins to consider the ramifications of others seeing the blood on her hands, the distant sound of fast approaching footfalls reach a crescendo and she pivots her hips, expecting to see the cause of the noise only to be barrelled into by the source. She hits the ground in a heap, her face inches away from the fire. Embers dust her skin as she wrenches her body away with a surprised gasp.

"Fuuuck." A blonde pale short girl sits up. Nellie stares, dumbfounded in her direction. "Sorry... I didn't think anyone else was here."

"S'okay." Nellie glances around, wondering if their collision piqued the interest of others. "Neither did I." She returns her gaze, taking in the girls frazzled appearance and. . . wedding dress? Her mouth opens and closes─should I even ask? At the sight of the girls' dress, Nellie's eyes drift down to her own, most definitely ruined from the damp ground beneath.

Frankly, Nellie has the good sense to juggle her relief of sudden freedom with her daunting emotions. Anywhere was safer than the compound. But she was still in a strange place, surrounded by strangers, across from a girl that seemed to have had an off day─just like herself. Resting back on both palms, uncaring of the dirt wedging under her nails, Nellie sighs deeply. "Do you know where we are? This ain't where I'm from. Though─" Though I ran here just moments ago.

Quite a silly thing to dwell on, her mother would've told her. Embracing whichever new practice Guru Oren had enforced on their community. I'm sure the Gods have their reasons. Nellie no longer cared for their reasons. If they'd been benevolent, then Guru Oren would've have been able to fool them by the hundreds.

Lost in her troubling thoughts, Nellie's eyes focus elsewhere─on the others around the campfire. Where a girl stood, shell-shocked and staring down the fog. Where a boy came to stand somewhat close by, warming his hands by the fire. Where two others were inching towards─she shifts to the side, to peer at what they were approaching. A sign?

































cry for love



백현










♡coded by uxie♡
 
Last edited:



Emmy - Plaything





































  • mood



    perplexed
















The last thing she remembered was washing the blood off of her hands; it was so much stickier than she had anticipated, nothing like what was shown in those vampire shows. And it had gotten everywhere. Of course, even in death, Violet had to ruin Emmy's day. The mess her pincushion of a body had left behind was even sloppier than her slobbery kisses. Emmy supposed she shouldn't have been surprised. What was surprising was the manic laughter that had started spilling from Emmy's mouth, the way her hands had started shaking, the way she felt something in her break. It wasn't supposed to be like this. Killing her abusive ex-girlfriend was supposed to fix her issues, not make them worse. Everything in her life was going wrong, and this one thing would fix it. Violet was a bad person.

But that didn't make it right...

Emmy had shoved that part of herself deep, deep down, just like she was used to shoving the important parts of herself. If no one knew about it, she would be fine. She just had to get home and wash off the blood. Violet didn't have any cameras in her apartment, and her neighbors weren't the kind of people would who notice or care about any disturbances, but her racing heart told her that she would be found out anyway due to forensics or something. Best to fix what she could and hurry back to her apartment so she could come up with a plan. But no sooner had she showered and changed that she had broken down right there on her perfect, fluffy carpet, knowing that she couldn't fix things. Emmy only ever made things worse.

So while she'd had her royal meltdown, it took her far longer than it should have to notice that carpet her face was smushed into was not the carpet she was familiar with. It was pink and spotless, looking even newer and fancier than her apartment's. She blinked, looking around and sniffling, to see a completely different setting than she was accustomed to. What was this? Her heart began to beat erratically again for a whole new reason. Where was she? This felt like a horror movie, like there was a monster that would attack her at any moment. But as she looked around the realm, taking in how unique everything was, how catered towards her, she wondered if she wasn't the monster here. At least there wasn't any blood on her now. As she started to explore the film studio, each room setup cuter and more perfect than the last, she started to forget about her light murder from earlier.

The bathroom even had a full set of Emmy's favorite makeup brands, making her smile. She washed her face of the streaked mascara and reapplied her normal clean makeup, with plenty of pink, of course. And a killer wing. She grinned at her reflection, giggling. Her giggles quickly turned into crazed laughter again, causing her to double over in her hysteria. The Entity didn't even have to try so hard, whispering thoughts into the mind of a half-insane girl as she spiraled. All it had to do was make her question everything, rip away the remaining shreds of sanity and morality she was clinging to. Maybe those things would slip through the cracks eventually, but by then Emmy would be under its control. There was no way she could process her fate without being a mad, after all.

If the universe wanted her to be the villain, who was she to say otherwise? Fuck it, this might as well happen. This was probably a dream anyway, so what did it matter if she did as she pleased? Not like any of these people would ever think twice about Emmy, so why should she think twice about them? Maybe she was the hero after all, bringing righteous justice to people like Violet. Her entire world had flipped upside down today, so it was above her pay grade to question what was happening. Maybe she was going crazy. Oh well. Better here than alone and on the streets while her family, her ex-friends, her ex-lovers all holed away in their warm, safe homes without thinking about Emmy at all. At least here she could have some fun.

At least here she mattered. And that was all it took for her to grab the knife.
































barbie girl



aqua










♡coded by uxie♡
 



1726905049581.png

Diversion

Jonathan
Chen

It didn't take long for Jon to place the feeling...he was being stalked. It wasn't his first time being stalked - he could handle that much. Being stalked in a place he didn't know though? While surrounded by an impossible fog? That was new to him and had him slightly on edge. His fingers slipped into his pockets - one hand slipping his fingers into brass knuckles and the other grasping his pocket knife. One thing was for certain..if he was going to go down tonight, it wouldn't be without a hard fight for the other person.

However, his attention is briefly pulled away by a change that even the fog couldn't hide. He raised a brow as the stomp stamp of his boots on gravel changed to a rather unfamiliar crunch snap. Some how, in this fog that he knew to be in the middle of the city, it felt as if he was standing on rocky, soil ground. Perhaps he had entered the park? That at least gave him some context for where he was at. It would also be harder for his stalker to sneak up on him in a large open area, so this worked out fantastic0ally.

Using the orange glow, something that looked oddly like a campfire, as his lighthouse, he made his way through the fog and arrived at the clearing with everyone else that was there. He stood just in front of the fog, observing their interactions. From where they were standing, especially given what he was wearing, he would have appeared as little more than a blurry shadow in black. He watched chaos unfold slowly in each part of the campfire as his mind trapped to wrap around what he was seeing.

Klan meeting Wait, no. No white hoods. Cult meeting? He looked around again, just in time to see one girl run into another in such a way that Jon was certain should have given one or both of them a concussion. Yeah...cult meeting.... "Yeah, no. I'd rather go by the stalker," he quietly commented, foo far and too quiet for the others to hear what he said. With those words, he turns around and walks back into the fog - anything to get away from that mess. However, he'd barely taken ten steps when he found himself staring at the campfire again.

This...isn't right. He tried again and the same thing happened - if anything, it was quicker this time. Something was most definitely wrong. Now that he looked around and paid a little bit more attention, he noticed that this wasn't any park he knew of...and he knew of quite a few. It was as if he was in a different city, maybe even country entirely. Okay, that's it. I'm done with the games. He pulled out his pocket knife...only to find that it was now a flashlight he held in his hands. "...the hell?"

When he pulled out the hand that should have been reinforced with brass knuckles, he found it empty. In fact, just by patting around, it seemed as though he had been completely stripped of everything he had on him with the exception of his clothes.

It had been far too long since he'd been robbed so blindly. He was certain that he was on guard the whole time. He didn't feel anyone come up to him, not even the slightest indication of someone around him, except this feeling of being stalked which he was oh so keenly aware of. With all that being the case, how did someone steal from him? Actually, more pressing for him to answer - who would dare steal from him. To lift from him so expertly took skill and anybody who had that much skill must have known his name. This was now a personal insult to him.

Anger. No...rage. No...wrath. Wrath began boiling within him, his eyes fixed on the group that surrounded the fire. He stormed up to them, ready for answers and determined not to leave until he got any. He waited until he got within earshot - not even needing his weapons to seem or sound threatening - "Alright, what sort of sick joke are you people playing? Whatever it is, I didn't sign up for this. Go have your dumb fun with somebody else because I promise you that today isn't the day and I am not the one you want to mess with."

Mentions: Everyone/anyone at the campfire
 



  • jack dollard ─ wake up!





































    • mood



      tired; but feeling vindicated

















    A whirlpool of memories played out before Jack, a retelling of his own life. It started off peaceful, if not boring—a young man with a need to work. Then it would change, and change, and change. The salty smell of the sea, dangling off the side of a platform, the craving something new all over again. Then, it would distort: the mouth of a cave, his new job as a mine welder. And then, Anderson.

    Remembering his dead coworker, Jack jolted awake, a faint whisper of "wake up" echoing unmistakably in His voice. His body reacted faster than his mind could process, his feet skittering hastily backward until his back slammed into something solid... a tree? What's happening?

    Feeling dazed, Jack instinctively reached for the sore spot on his shoulder, expecting to feel the sting of a wound. But there was nothing. It didn’t make sense. Jack knew that whatever he saw in the cave—the mine—it was real. He wasn’t on the brink of losing his mind, and all it did was remind him that it couldn't of been him who—

    Jack froze, ice flooding his veins as he sat in the middle of the woods. The fog wrapped around him like a blanket, suffocating him just the same. It felt different, thinking about Anderson, about the accident—only the second time since he woke. It had been about a year, but somehow it felt...fresh. Images flashed through his mind, fragments of memories that he knew didn’t entirely happen:

    Himself, purposely removing screws from the vehicle...holding people back from saving whatever was left of Anderson, a tendril—

    A shudder ripped through him as the eerie silence began to settle in. He hated how quiet it was—wherever he was. In silence, his thoughts were always the loudest, the most annoying, the most mean. But for once, Jack knew wallowing wouldn’t help his case. With his back pressed against the tree, he slowly pulled himself up, his sneakers now smudged with mud and dead leaves instead of debris and blood.

    He tightened his jaw, teeth clenched as he tried to ground himself in what he hoped was reality. He didn’t know where to start, but standing around looking vulnerable wouldn’t help either. So he walked.

    And walked. And walked. He wasn’t sure how long he had been wandering aimlessly around for, but impatience was creeping in, boiling beneath. Nothing but leaves, trees, and the ever-present fog, which he was growing sick of seeing. Pushing through the frustration, Jack pressed on, nervously praying he wasn’t walking straight into a cave of some beast. Each step sent a dull ache through his feet, exhaustion building with every passing moment—the burning itch for his pill bottle still very much alive and strong. It left me here in the middle of nowhere, the asshole.

    In the end, it did somewhat of a job—thinking about It, cursing it out. The tendril, the dark ominous mist that came with it—the spite powered him through as he dragged his feet deeper into the empty woods. His shoulder ached, a phantom pain from a stab that he knew wasn't there. The only evidence left behind was a hole in the upper corner of his sweater. I didn’t make it up.

    Lost in his thoughts, he pressed on until something bright and flickering caught his eye, halting his movement.

    Jack squinted, furrowing his brows at the brightness up ahead—a fire? People, out here? He cautiously approached the campfire, resting a hand on the nearest tree to catch his breath. A fire in these woods likely meant bad news, but figuring out where he was seemed more important. About to make a move, someone walked into his line of sight and—

    Relief nearly knocked him off his feet when he spotted a handful of people gathered around the fire, their backs to him.

    Taking a step toward the light, Jack stumbled, his hand catching on the jacket of the closest person. I’m sorry, he thought. I don’t know why I’m so tired. But instead, what came out was: “Where am I?"

































    cry for love



    백현










    ♡coded by uxie♡
 



isabella ─ object of obsession.





































  • mood



    guarded, confused, and irritated.
















Isabella noticed how the woman looked at her, following her gaze to the torn and bloody wedding dress she wore. Her blood ran cold, shivering despite the warmth of the campfire nearby. Sable grabbed fistfuls of the fabric in her hands and held it in a death grip while she fought back tears, but was jolted back to reality by a woman's voice. Right... This isn't the time for that.

"Do you know where we are? This ain't where I'm from. Though─"

Sable shook her head, frowning, "I know as much as you, which probably isn't a lot." Standing, she brushed the dirt from her dress and finally took a moment to process her surroundings, "What the hell is this place...?" The gears in her head started turning immediately as she let it all sink in, unclenching and clenching her fists rhythmically, nails digging into her palms.

She had been running down the street, screaming in the hope someone would help her. She prayed. Was this their answer? Or had Elliot caught and killed her like he always threatened he would? Maybe this was hell. If so, did that mean she was finally free? This wasn't the freedom Isabella wanted, but at least it was better than where she had been.

"I'm Isabella, by the way," She turned, remembering the woman she ran into, "You can jus' call me Sable, though." It seemed as good a time as any to introduce herself and something about this woman put her at ease. Frankly, the feeling made Sable very uncomfortable, but she rolled her shoulders back and brushed it off. She reached a hand out to her, both as an offer to help her up and an attempt at a handshake. As much as Sable didn't want to, she was pretty sure this was the polite thing to do, and seeing as she was the one that had knocked her over... It only seemed fair.

The voice of a man was the next to interrupt, taking Sable's focus from the woman. With her hand still outstretched to her, Isabella turned her head and stared incredulously at the one hollering. What right did this man have to act like this, like he was the only victim in this situation when it was all of them?

"Oh get the fuck over yourself, we don't even know who you are," Isabella snapped, one eye twitching as she barely contained her annoyance, "You think we want to be here, either?? We know as little as you do, so stop takin' your anger out on complete strangers an' relax." Gods, she wanted so badly to go over and give him a proper piece of her mind, but she didn't want to leave the side of the woman she had run into. They had made a connection, even if it was something small, and Sable had little interest in expanding her circle to more strangers. Especially one that tried so hard to sound threatening, but who did little more than irritate her further.

"Take longer than a second to really look around you and use the singular cell rotting in your brain to think about the situation before ya go blamin' people you don't know," Sable huffed, glaring at the unknown man a few feet from where she stood, before turning back to the woman, "Sorry 'bout that, and again I'm real sorry for running into you. You okay?" She sincerely hoped she hadn't hurt her in the collision.

































ptolemaea



ethel cain










♡coded by uxie♡
 
Last edited:





  • madison — unbreakable.





































    • mood



      Not having it

















    Heart pumping and lungs ready to burst open where all Madison could feel at the moment. Damp winds whipped her curls back with her legs striding against the winds like a cheetah. Her focus blurred the rest of her surroundings with the desperate need to get home, the streetlights guiding her only that she didn’t understand where or how she ended up here. Going through that thick fog disoriented her, but she persevered and kept going.

    Her feet now practically stomping from road to damp ground with the familiarity of leaves crunching beneath her feet. Catching sight of her environment changing, she stopped midway sliding into mud but kept her balance. Gold eyes scanned her area with a deep weight of bewilderment rising in her conscience. Her brows furrowed as she stepped back, only to feel something in her hand.

    The clink of a metal caught her attention and she looked down to see a med kit. It was a discolored red, clunky, and old as hell. She doesn’t remember holding this or even grabbing it. Honestly, the med kit was the least of her problems.

    What the hell? Where am I?

    Placing it down on the ground, she turned on her heel and began to run back the way she came. Jumping over pieces of wood, pushing through branches in her way only to find herself back at the same place. The sight of the med kit was both a comfortable and confusing feeling. Stubborn as she was, she moved forward this time and started running again. Madison didn’t understand what she was doing wrong, and this frustrated her even more. Again, her med kit was back in sight and she was right where she started.

    Madison hovered over her knees with sweat dripping from her skull down to her nose. Taking in deep breaths she had to ignore what felt like open slits inside her throat, and how much she knows it's going to hurt to speak right now. Her legs were beginning to feel like noodles, and she was already tired from standing all day at work.

    “Hello!” she yelled out, “anyone?”

    This better not be like Friday the 13th, so fucking help me—

    Catching her breath and taking a strong huff through her nose, she grabbed the med kit and began walking around. The uncomfortable eeriness and silence sent her chills. Don't get her wrong, she was an outdoors person, but not a "hey, let's go camp in the woods" or "hike a mountain" kind of person. A coworker of hers was a hiker and she never understood how they do this daily.

    Cautiously she quickly moved over pushing past the branches and the crackles of a fire echoed in her ears. The light caught her attention, and she immediately hurried over to the sounds of voices. Somehow it seemed like she came across people that were camping, or to her it looked like it. Goosebumps traveled down her skin from their presence. With a cautious eye she began to observe those around her carefully. Someone had to know something. Better to find out now then later.

    “Hey….does anyone have any idea where I am? Do any of you have a phone on you, maybe?” she asked out loud to the crowd.

    Speaking of phone, she patted herself down trying to look for hers. Where the hell did it go?

































    KNIVES



    NEONI










    ♡coded by uxie♡


 
Last edited:



fick ; parental guidance





































  • mood



    dazed, confused

















When he opened his eyes, Fick wasn’t in his car anymore. He was lying face-down on his side in the damp ground, his cheek pressed into the dirt, and the Civic was up in flames in front of him.

What the fuck?

The sight should have washed him with panic. There was something similar that raced through him at the sight, but he felt too heavy to really feel it. A weight held him down, keeping his body pressed against the ground. His mind moved slow, like he had to wade through water to think. Even with his beloved Honda burning before him, he couldn’t keep his eyes open to see it. They slipped shut of their own volition.

The heat from the fire washed over him, as if it were inches in front of him instead of a few yards. Maybe it was closer than he first thought, because it was far too warm. It was the middle of New England in November, and he was hot. Nobody was supposed to be hot in New England. It was New England.

But was it? Fick couldn’t seem to remember where he’d been going. It must have been important if he was out on the road. After all, he hated driving more than ten miles in the snow since his car was getting old. But he’d been doing it anyway, behind the wheel of his old beater in the middle of a storm.

Guess he was paying the price now– crashed his car in the middle of who knows where, with no idea how far from home or civilization he was.

Goddammit. If he didn’t start to move right now, he was going to burn up or freeze.

Dazed, he forced his eyes back open. The fire flickered in front of him, but as he blinked and forced his vision to focus, he realized it wasn’t his car at all; it was a campfire, maybe ten feet away. Hot and raging as it might have been, there was no vehicle within it.

There wasn’t a storm, either. The earth under him was wet, but there was no snow on the ground to be seen. Nor was there any falling from the sky– whatever had made the dirt beneath him so wet was gone now.

As relieved as he might have been that his car was not on fire before him, he had more questions than before. If he hadn’t crashed his car while driving, where had it gone? The last thing he remembered was driving down some background after sunset. He didn’t remember stopping or getting out of it.

Then again, he felt like there was more than one thing missing from his head. The fact that he couldn’t even remember where he’d been driving to was a pretty bad sign, let alone what he was going there for.

Don’t worry, he told himself, but his thoughts came sluggish. You hit your head or something. It’ll be fine.

The reassurance did little, but he pushed himself up off the ground regardless. For as slow as his mind felt, his body moved without struggle. With a few seconds, he was sitting up on his knees and observing what he could see of his surroundings.

There were other figures dotted around the campfire, people who seemed to be stirring or looking around as if they were just as unsure as he felt. Some of them simply stared at the ground. Others were climbing to their feet, or otherwise moving. One woman, only a few feet ahead of him, got bowled over by another in a torn wedding dress running into her, and they both hit the ground with a hard thud.

Fick winced at the sound; it had to have hurt. To their credit, though, both women seemed to recover quick. With no apparent injury to either of them, he turned his attention elsewhere, glancing around at the rest of the gathered crowd. A few feet away, there was another guy wearing scrubs who looked just as lost as Fick felt.

“Hey man,” Fick said, leaning over to him. “Are you okay?”

































who will save your soul?



jewel










♡coded by uxie♡
 
Last edited:



Ambrose - Dance With Me





































  • mood



    super confused
















Ambrose blinked as he warmed his hands, realizing just how many other people there were around him, with more seeming to just appear out of the fog at every moment. Perhaps, like him, they had closed their eyes only to end up in this strange purgatory. Several of them were dressed in what Ambrose considered to be odd clothing, such as a torn wedding dress or strange fabrics he had never seen before. Perhaps they were from other countries, since Ambrose admittedly had little knowledge beyond the basics of the world around him, and who knew what people had invented over there that had yet to reach America. At least they all seemed to be speaking English, which was good for communication purposes. It would be horrible to be stuck with a group of people you couldn't talk to at all. What would he do to pass the time then?

As what seemed like the start of argument broke out, Ambrose decided not to get involved. He had learned from his time as an outlaw not to stick his nose where it didn't belong or start unnecessary fights with people who already seemed a tad on the volatile side. So he continued to warm his hands as he looked for someone who seemed friendly enough. At yet another person addressing the crowd, he glanced at the asker with curiosity. She was dressed a bit more normally in denim and flannel, both fabrics that Ambrose was familiar with. When she asked about a phone, he gave her an odd look.

"What do you mean, a phone on ya?" he asked, brows furrowed. "As helpful as that would be, I doubt there's any telephones in a place like this. No buildings 'round these parts, and I certainly couldn't carry a telephone on my person." He chuckled. Wait, did purgatory have telephones? And if it did, could they actually call people who were still alive? Ambrose would pay good money for that. Maybe she knew something he didn't. He had just gotten here, so he figured it was possible one of the others around him had more knowledge about this than him. Or perhaps they were all equally clueless. God, it would be bad if that were the case. Though maybe that was part of how purgatory worked. What did he know?

He then realized that he had almost forgotten to answer the first part of the girl's question. "As fer where we are, I can't say fer certain. Maybe you'll think I'm a bit addle-headed fer this, but I suspect we're in purgatory right now." He was completely serious, looking right at her as he answered before glancing around as if to make sense of everything he saw. Yeah, purgatory seemed like the most likely answer. Everything here was catawampus and strange.































wanted man



royal deluxe










♡coded by uxie♡
 
Last edited:



richie - diversion.





































  • mood



    confused, surprised
















Richie hadn't felt the wind on his skin for a long time.

He was a shell of his former self in more ways than one, but the outside was rejuvenating. He may still be breathing into an oxygen mask attached to the respirator of his wheelchair. He may not even be able to stand up without his legs collapsing underneath him. But he was outside and there was nowhere else he wanted to be. There was nothing normal about his current condition but it was the closest thing to his past. Angela placed a hand on his shoulder, and muttered something about going on a lookout before ruffling his hair. She left for a quick minute and that was all it took. The next few moments would define the rest of his life as the fog slowly rolled in despite the hot and humid day.

Richie closed his eyes and leaned back.

When he opened them again, he was looking up at a darkened sky. He could breathe again and the monotonous and aggravating sound of his various machines was gone. He blinked once. And then again. He took a deep breath and was almost elated to feel his lungs fill with air and he didn't need to keel over and start coughing. He felt like laughing like a madman. It was a miracle! He took a few seconds laying there with a wide grin on his face as he took in the scent of... of...

A dawning realization. He sat up and looked around to unfamiliar territory. The darkness seemed to stretch out endlessly with his— their, he realized upon seeing other figures around the makeshift camp— only light source being a campfire in the middle. The same fog that rolled in from the field of the hospital seemed to be a mainstay in their area, blocking the view of what was beyond the campfire as if the ceaseless darkness wasn't enough. In all his time traveling and entering seemingly haunted buildings and forests, he had never felt so disoriented. This was something new, something unnatural but could he really even think he was in a normal situation? After all, he had just been on the brink of death mere minutes ago and now he felt as spry as he had before the quarantine!

He stood up and dusted himself off, noting that he was wearing scrubs. The same ones Angela had helped him into as if a nurse in a wheelchair and a respirator were the most normal thing in the world and no one would stop them. She always had the craziest plans and yet, they always seemed to work out in her favor. He patted around and merely had a flashlight to his name inside one of the pockets— no phone, no wallet, no nothing. It wasn't like he had carried those in the hospital anyway. Only the heaven knows when he had last found the energy to look at his phone for more than ten minutes before getting frustrated and wanting to throw it all away.

Commotion from further towards the campfire as people began to converge. Someone plowed right into another person before turning around and speaking to that angry guy. Some part of Richie could understand that panic could turn into aggression very quickly but, also, everyone was simply lost. It wouldn't do anyone any good to immediately start fighting others but who was he to tell him what to do, right?

Then, someone acknowledged him and Richie turned to the voice. Despite the gloomy atmosphere, the young man grinned.
"Never felt better, if I'm gonna be honest. Been a while since I could get back on my feet."
Richie studied him for a mere moment to keep his face in mind before reaching over for a handshake.
"Richard, by the way, but people just call me Richie. You good?"


A particular chill settled into his bones as he was forced to acknowledge that scrubs weren't the warmest clothing you could have. He inclined his head towards the campfire.
"We should probably get closer to the fire. Pretty chilly, can't have us getting sick yeah?"



































Clair de Lune



Claude Debussy










♡coded by uxie♡
 




  • ROWAN MUNDAY





































    • mood



      uncertain and unsettled

















    Calloused hands gripped one of the handles of the vault wheel. Sweat beaded against Rowan’s forehead as he strained against the weighted metal. For a moment he thought it wouldn’t budge, that he would be trapped beneath the earth until he withered away into nothing but a dry, scrawny corpse.

    Something apparently had better plans for the survivor though as finally, with a groan and steely screech, the pin release lever finally budged. It snowballed from there with continued audible protest. Rowan too let out a noise of exertion as he heard the locks of the hatch door begin to release and with it a sense of apprehensive anxiety.

    What would he find outside after so many years? Surely there would be nothing left standing and if it was it would be terribly destroyed, more rubble and dust than anything that could be called man made. Would there even be people left? There had to be- Rowan wouldn’t accept the other answer.

    It was unexpected however, as instead of light filtering in through the gaps of the slowly opening door it was instead a heavy fog. He thought it was smoke at first, thick and dark, but there was no odour to prove that assumption true. It almost instilled the survivor with enough uneasiness that he halted his task. Almost.

    The further the vault door opened, the more and more fog poured in until Rowan could see no longer. That was when panic finally gripped his heart in its icy claws. He let go of the wheel and flailed blindly about, hands reaching for a wall, or a railing, or anything.

    Just when he felt as if he would succumb to a horror that threatened to drive his mind into madness, the fog began to clear. It was not much better, the surroundings still cast in a lack of light and long shadows birthed from a dancing fire that provided no warmth. But he was... outside?

    There shouldn’t have been a forest here let alone some sort of supernatural gathering of campers. That was the only explanation he could grasp based on the scene before him. A scattering of people, none of them looked happy, tents erect and not, a crackling ambience of embers and insects of the night.

    It took a minute, and then another several, for Rowan to steady his pounding pulse and erratic breathing. Fear simmered down to a quiet nervousness because of the uncertainty that took its place. Looking on the bright side of the situation, at least he wasn’t greeted by a complete wasteland. There was people, there was life.

    And so with a concentrated exhale, Rowan forced himself to move forward and join the growing band of folks who had already gathered around the space. A quick observation revealed that there was enough tents for those who were congregated, including himself of course. The survivor couldn’t exactly say he had ever pitched one before but surely it couldn’t be that difficult?

    Picking a spot at random, he stepped across the soft ground until reaching it and knelt down. Hands that knew work far more technical and documented than this began to work across the poles and fabric slips with unfamiliarity, working first to construct the flimsy shelter and then perhaps some progress could be made towards figuring out just what exactly was going on.


































    slapstick



    foxing










    ♡coded by uxie♡
 



the sister ; dark devotion.





































  • mood



    grateful, full of pride
















In the end, the cathedral didn’t look all that different. Better even, in some ways, if she could ignore some of the windows scattered around.

This was the conclusion Rosemarie came to, after she’d had two days to explore the grounds. Much of the cathedral looked the same as it had before. In fact, she hadn’t even noticed the change at first. She’d awoken that morning with a sense that something was different, but it wasn’t until she’d noticed the change in the stained glass windows that she realized something was.

They were all different. Before, they had displayed various bible stories with colorful panes of glass. Now, most of them were done in shades of gray instead, as if they’d been forgotten so long they’d lost their color altogether.

The more striking difference, though, were the windows that still had color. Unlike the others, the pictures on these had changed completely. They seemed detailed, moreso than any other stained glass window she had seen, with figures wearing plain outfits and black clothes doing various activities.

It wasn’t until she’d turned her attention to the altar, where the largest window had always sat. This, too, had been changed. Gone was the image of Jesus, flanked by Peter and Mary Magdalene. Instead, there was a woman wearing black– a nun, without any sense of a doubt– with her arms and legs spread in such a way that she appeared to be lying down. Red seemed to seep out from beneath her, and her chest bore a square of black with a golden cross in the middle. An echoing feeling within her whispered, an exorcism.

She realized, then, that the windows hadn’t just changed. They had changed to reflect her.

DO YOU LIKE THEM?

Whatever spoke sounded in her head, but Rosemarie whipped her head to look behind her. The room was empty, as it had been moments before. Strange.

ROSEMARIE. DO YOU NOT RECOGNIZE ME? DO YOU NOT RECOGNIZE MY CALL?

“No,” she answered aloud, because she did not. Her voice was little more than a rasp; these days, she spoke for little other than prayer or sacrifice.

The voice spoke again, still inside her head.

IT IS ME, WHO GAVE YOU REASON WHEN YOU HAD NONE. IT IS ME WHO GUIDED YOUR KNIFE AT THE CONVENT. WHO GAVE YOU STRENGTH AT THE CATHEDRAL. MY HAND HAS BEEN THE ONE GUIDING YOURS SINCE YOU HAVE ASKED.

“Why now?” She asked. “I have followed you for years, and you have never spoken so loudly. Only whispers in the dark.”

I SPEAK WITH YOU NOW AS THINGS HAVE CHANGED, ROSEMARIE. WE ARE NO LONGER IN THE CATHEDRAL WITH WHICH YOU ARE FAMILIAR.

“I can see the changes you have made. But I do not understand them.”

I HAVE NOT MADE CHANGES. I HAVE BUILT YOU SOMEWHERE NEW. A PLACE WITH WHICH YOU MAY BE FAMILIAR, BUT ONE THAT HAS BEEN CHANGED. ONE THAT IS BETTER FOR YOU. ONE THAT WILL HELP YOU WITH THE PURPOSE I HAVE FOR YOU NOW.

She glanced around. The sky outside was dark, meaning that the color on the windows seemed dim, but the gold of the cross above the altar seemed to glint. “What purpose am I to have now?” She asked. “I spent decades following the desires you had of me. Have I disappointed you in some way?”

OF COURSE NOT. YOUR DEVOTION HAS BEEN NOTHING LESS THAN A GIFT.

A gift. As stoic as she tended to be, Rosemarie felt a surge of pride rush through her. To be recognized for the hard work she’d spent years putting in… a reward enough for her, in some ways.

(After all, she’d followed God her entire youth– her best years, as some described it– and what had she received from Him for that?)

IT IS SIMPLY THAT YOU ARE WORTH TOO MUCH TO WASTE AWAY WAITING FOR THE OCCASIONAL TRAVELER TO STUMBLE INTO YOUR PATH. THOSE SPIRIT CHASERS MAY HAVE BEEN… SUBSTANTIAL, BUT THAT HAS BEEN A RARITY. IT IS CLEAR TO ME THAT YOU WILL SERVE BEST SOMEWHERE WHERE YOU HAVE THE ROOM TO SHINE.

Room to shine. This must be what recognition felt like, to be so honored for her dedication. “What would you have me do?”

THEY WILL COME TO YOU, AND YOU WILL KILL THEM FOR ME. THE WINDOWS WILL TELL YOU WHERE THEY ARE. THE CAGES WILL HOLD THEM. YOUR HANDS WILL KILL THEM, AND I SHALL BE FED.

“If that is what I am to do,” she said. “Should I have an expectation of receiving something in return?”

In response, a light began to shine somewhere outside of the cathedral. Something unnatural, clearly, because the stained glass windows all began to glow at once, like the sun was rising from every direction to light them.

IN RETURN, ROSEMARIE, YOU ARE HOME.

































Devil



Moon Walker










♡coded by uxie♡
 



greta ─ spine chill.
































"Wait─" Greta's caution for the man willingly walking into the parting mist cuts off as a hand grips onto her corduroy jacket, startling slightly. Her eyes track the source of the hand, finding a shell-shocked face watching her. If it weren't for the campfire's embers illuminating the rich brown in his eyes, she might've mistaken them for pitch black. He looked so... tired.

"Where am I?"

Her lips part to whisper a timid I have no fucking idea when she hopelessly shakes her head, beyond understanding of what led her here, what pulled her here. "Somewhere... not safe." She takes a step away from the sign, the mist, and towards the unmade tents. "I think we're expected to stay."

Saying the words out loud leaves her with a sense of dread, a foreboding impression that no longer sits in the back of her mind─now overpowering every logical rational part of her brain attempting to grasp at facts and evidence, pulling from the folders in her mind to come up with nothing but a blank emptiness of bottomless hope.

Her chest expands, eager for air as her paranoia begins to pitch into something unmanageable. I need something. She returns her gaze to the man at her side, his square face surprisingly comforting despite the hard angles of his face─his eyes, the softness in the chocolate depths. Grounding herself with the knowledge she's not alone, that at least he is as confused as her, Greta swallows down her panic, deciding to hyper-focus on a positive.

"Are you okay?" It slips out, her gaze having dropped to something more important than staring into a strangers eyes. There's a hole in his shirt, his jacket─she can't help as her hand rests below the puncture, her fingers pulling at the fabric and expecting to see something grizzly in its wake. But there's nothing. Clear skin that her fingertips touch briefly before pulling away. "Sorry, I─I'm an assistant at a mortuary. I expected. . ." She trails off, wondering if the man before her would be squeamish if she were to say something too grotesque. A side-effect of your clients being made up of dead people, you begin to forget that society isn't as willing to discuss the topic so openly. That you aren't permitted to freely touch people's bodies if they're living and breathing.

Movement catches her attention quick as a wink, jerking her head towards the origin. A man is doubled over, constructing one of the tents freely and her chest deflates as she chastises herself for being so jumpy. The alarm ringing in her head, once a siren, now a whisper with the boyish stranger beside her and the man across the site, making the most of their situation. It brings her back to her original plan. Set up.

"Do you want to. . . ?" She nods at where the man is, beginning his construction. "Maybe answers will come if we stay busy." A shot in the dark, more of a comforting word to herself─it was an illogical thought, if she were being honest and that was most certainly unlike her, but none of this was typical. She starts towards the man, looking back to make sure her stranger is following along, and doesn't stop until her feet are touching the material on the ground. Until she bends down to grab one of the stakes just out of the mans reach.

"Can we help?" She holds the stake in her hand out for him to take. Her eyes, ever searching, drifts to a figure beyond his shoulders. A girl with dark curls Greta has the good sense to be envious of and sporting an athletic attire. She sees her mirrored panic in the girl, her head whipping left and right to take in the surroundings with distinct care. With her free hand, Greta waves the girl over, hoping that the presence of others will chase away any thoughts of impending doom and loneliness.

































cry for love



백현










♡coded by uxie♡
 




  • Jason - PlotTwist





































    • Mood



      Scared, Lost, Angry
















    Jason’s eyes snapped open,
    his face buried in the dirt. The cold ground beneath him was rough and he scrambled up, disoriented, his fingers digging into the earth as he pushed himself to his knees. His breath came in quick, uneven bursts as his mind raced to make sense of where he was. The last thing he remembered was his father’s study, the scent of old books, bourbon, and leather, the weight of everything he found out about his father just moments before.

    But now… this.

    He brushed the dirt off his pants, his heart pounding as he stood upright, scanning his surroundings. A soft orange glow illuminated the area, casting long shadows across the ground. His gaze drifted toward a campfire, flickering just a few yards away. People stood scattered around, their faces as confused and lost as his own. They were strangers, yet the look in their eyes mirrored his.

    Jason's throat tightened as he took a hesitant step forward, eyes wide as he took note of the scene. His mind was racing, piecing together the fragments of memory that led him here. His father. His mother’s phone call.

    The words “I’m proud of you, son. You’re doing great, keep up the work.” playing over and over in his head. The revelation that his father was drowning in debt because of this Francesca woman. That his perfect, structured life had been nothing but a house of cards, ready to collapse.

    He had been by the balcony, trying to make sense of it all. Then the phone rang, and he picked it up. His mother’s voice echoed in his ears, “Sonshine? Jason? Are you there?”

    Even she hadn’t known the full scope of it, had she? His father’s lies. The money they didn’t have.

    Then, just like that… he was taken.

    He didn’t know how or why, but now he was here, in this strange, unfamiliar place.

    “Mom?” Jason called out, his voice shaky, unsure. He glanced around, searching the shadows for any sign of her, of anyone he knew. Nothing. Just the strangers by the fire and the thick, oppressive mist that seemed to wrap around them.

    “Mom!” he called again, louder this time, though part of him already knew she wasn’t there. There was no response.

    He wiped the sweat from his brow, his heart running a marathon in his chest. Panic started to claw its way up his throat, but Jason fought it down. This wasn’t the time to lose it. He couldn’t lose it. He had to figure this out. He had to get a grip.

    “What the fuck is going on?” he muttered, almost to himself.

    Then, louder, addressing no one in particular, he shouted, “Where the fuck are we?”

    His voice cut through the quiet night like a blade, both sharp and demanding. Some of the people around the fire turned to look at him, their faces lost and wide-eyed. None of them spoke. No one had answers. Jason could feel the frustration bubbling up inside him, the fear twisting in his gut.

    “How the hell did we get here?” His voice cracked, betraying the growing panic he was trying to suppress. “Why - why were we brought here?”

    He waited, expecting someone – anyone – to give him an answer. There was only silence, the crackling of the fire, and the soft rustling of the wind in the trees. His mind raced back to his father’s study, to the feeling of helplessness that had washed over him when his mother’s voice had come through the phone. He needed her at that moment, right now he was wishing he would have gone on that vacation with her. Now, this place. He felt like he was in a nightmare that wasn’t going to end anytime soon.

    Jason clenched his fists, his nails digging into his palms. He wasn’t just scared, he was angry. Angry at his father for keeping the truth hidden. Angry at his mother for leaving him behind. Angry at himself for not realizing sooner how bad things really were. Mostly, he was angry because he had no idea where he was or what was happening and he hated feeling powerless.

    His jaw tightened as he paced back and forth, his breath heavy. He had always been the one to take charge, to make sense of the chaos around him, but this… this was something else entirely.

    “Is anyone going to fucking answer me?” he growled, his voice edged with desperation. The silence that followed was deafening.

    Jason stopped pacing, staring at the fire, the light casting dark shadows on the faces of the people around it. He swallowed hard, knowing that, like him, they had no answers. He had to figure this out, he had no choice. It was him, these strangers, and whatever was beyond the misty fog. He can’t trust anyone but himself.















































    ♡coded by uxie♡

 




  • astrid ─ parental guidance.





































    • mood



      confused, on the verge of panicking
















    Astrid stood at her front door, staring at the knob. It’d been thirty minutes of just this: her staring, trying to get up the courage to turn it, walk over the threshold and leave. Leave behind the life she’d been trying to build for herself this past year, to return to her ex-husband, even just for a little while. It felt like admitting defeat.

    Before she could even address that, she literally had to just go outside. Since she’d started therapy, it’d been getting easier – but there were some days, like today, that it seemed almost impossible. Going outside meant she was vulnerable – her recent attack had made that clear. But here, inside her apartment, she was safe.

    Still… she looked at the beaded bracelet on her wrist, pink and blue plastic. Clementine’s work. She wanted to see her daughter… it’d been three months since the last time, a brief visit held under the watchful eye of Henri. He was convinced she was unfit to be alone with her… or at least had convinced everyone else. Some days he even convinced Astrid herself.

    Astrid sighed, plucking up the courage and grabbing her packed suitcase behind her, turning the knob and stepping through the door. However, instead of the concrete landing leading to her steps, she tripped, and then stumbled against a tree. A tree? There weren’t trees near her apartment but as she got the bearings on her surroundings, that’s exactly what she was now leaning against. She looked down and the handle that she was holding was no longer the brown frayed leather of her suitcase, but a plastic red one belonging to some kind of metal tin she couldn’t make out in all the fog.

    As her eyes adjusted to the darkness, she couldn’t see much except for a golden orange glow only a few feet away, though it seemed to barely stave off the darkness of the fog surrounding them. As she stepped closer to the flames, they illuminated the figures standing by. It… was a surprising amount of people. She didn’t recognize any of them, and wondered where she could possibly be – was she losing her mind? Perhaps Henri was right, and she was always just a moment away from her next one. Except this time, it seemed that she’d completely lost her mind. It was the only explanation for what was going on.

    As she stepped closer to the fire, she remembered the tin she held and lifted it up to examine it. Bright red and rusty metal, its lid was dented with a white plus in the center. …A first aid kit? How did she even have this? She could have sworn that… no she was sure that she’d had her suitcase. …Had she been going somewhere?

    Her memories now seemed just out of grasp, a fog clouding her brain, and as much as she’d tried to remember where she’d been planning to go, or… well, anything much. She remembered flashes of memories, but the only solid thing in her mind was her daughter. Shit, Clementine… Astrid looked around frantically around the campfire as she approached, looking for her daughter, but a quick scan of faces proved otherwise… It didn’t make any sense. The only time she’d been camping had been with Clem…

    As she’d scanned the faces of the others, they seemed… confused, upset, and afraid. The panic rose in her chest as she looked for someone to talk to, to ask about what the hell was going on here, but everyone seemed caught up in themselves – an argument had even already seemed to break out. A shiver ran up her spine and she decided to get closer to the fire, her denim jacket wasn’t doing much to stave off the cold.

    Astrid stood at the fire next to two men, one of which was in scrubs, but she didn’t do much more than awkwardly nod at them as she approached and stuck her hands out towards the fire trying to get some warmth back in them. As she did, a man from across the campfire started yelling, ”Why were we brought here? Is anyone gonna fucking answer me?"”

    The screaming set her off – aggression in general did, but men’s aggression triggered something inside of her she couldn’t control. She could really use a cigarette, but she patted her pockets where she normally kept her pack and realized it was gone, not even one merciful cigarette left behind. She rubbed her arms and realized she was trembling, but no longer from the cold. The panic rose in her chest and she hugged herself tight, trying to keep it all together before the panic bubbled over and spilled out.

































    where is my mind?



    the pixies










    ♡coded by uxie♡

 



  • Ben - Adrenaline





































    • mood



      panicked, determined, confused
















    Exploring the woods was always exhilarating. Finally, for the first time in ages, Ben had a day to himself, and he was planning to spend the day alone in the forest. Of course, that was before he had gotten hopelessly lost. He had planned to spend the day alone with his thoughts, working through the complex mental problem that was his current situation. He had narrowed down his possible lineage to someone in the grand castle, but that did not help much. There were so many servants, knights, and nobles who were around constantly, making it a very busy place. And something had been tugging at the back of his mind, a piece of information that he was so close to, yet so distant from. What was it?

    Ben suspected something of the supernatural variety here, though she had very little in the way of evidence to support that claim. Like most people, she knew that spirits and monsters existed. But that didn't mean she had proof that one of them was affecting things. There were all sorts of spirits and demons that could get in one's way, that much was for sure. It was only a matter of time until she found the specific one responsible. But as for now, she had to figure what direction to go.

    It had been odd, really. An experienced horseman like them shouldn't have gotten thrown off of their horse, but something had spooked it at such an odd time. And as the beautiful mare had ran, spooked, into the woods, Ben had been left to fend for themself. Unfortunately, most of their supplies for the day had been gone with the horse. They knew the woods semi-well, but they hadn't traversed this way while not on horseback in some time. And they certainly did not remember the strange fog that was setting in. Almost as if Ben could blink and the fog would have overtaken everything in sight. It must be some sort of fae trickery. Ben bit their lip, suddenly nervous.

    And with another blink, the fog had obscured everything in sight, rolling low and thick throughout the area. The sound of voices could be heard in the distance, putting Ben on edge. Certainly this must be a fae's doing. Well, Ben had been taught well as a child. One could never reveal their true name to a fae--good thing Ben hadn't used his true name in years, not since he decided the fate of a young girl was not worth pursuing in the wake of potential knighthood. He had always wanted to be a knight, and something about being a girl had never sat right with him. So his true name, his Christian name, as it were, was one he had not uttered in years. He just had to be smart, get out as quickly as possible, and try his best to figure out what was going on.

    As Ben warily approached the voices, she furrowed her brow. There were many more people than she was anticipating, and they all looked quite human, albeit wearing strange garb. She did not recognize much of the fashion here. Maybe this was a fae trick; looking human but revealing themselves in their lack of conventional attire. Some of it seemed wholly impractical, causing Ben much confusion. Well, it didn't really matter. As long as she hurried this along and could leave as soon as possible, it would be fine. She spotted a man putting together a small cloth dwelling, realizing there were several more around the bonfire. Of everyone there, he seemed the most normal. And he seemed to be struggling. Well, since so many people were working on the dwellings, it might be the test the fae were putting them through. If she helped this man, perhaps they could both escape. But she had to be wary--he could easily be a fae in disguise.

    "Good morrow," Ben said, greeting the man as they went to stand beside them, giving puzzled glances at the fabric laying in a pool near him as he continued to work on making it into a dwelling like the others. "How doth it fare with thee? And may I provide thou aide?" They stood in the way most knights they knew did, demanding respect with a straight spine and arms crossed in contemplation. How did this contraption work, anyhow?
































    wanted man



    royal deluxe










    ♡coded by uxie♡

 










apolline súkeníková















role

botany knowledge; benevolent






location

by the fireplace [the lodge]






outfit

top. bottom. shoes. ; hair in two messy braids, the stragglers draped across her face. not shown is a thermal long sleeve top underneath the mohair hoodie.






mentions

open ; acknowledgement: fick evermoon evermoon
& richie AI10100 AI10100






item

med-kit









Tears trickled down Apolline's face as she kept her eyes tightly shut. Though she'd awakened, she felt as if she were glued to this cold ground. What once felt like steel, topped with a crude mattress, now felt entirely unfamiliar. She tried not to shake too hard as she curled up, keeping her sideways position on the floor, tense and rigid. Her stomach churned with discomfort, her heart raced despite her attempts to deep breathe them away, and her cheeks were damp with silent tears. As the world around her began to stir, her mind struggled to piece together the fragments of her disorientation. Voices danced around her, rising as others awoke--she tried to count the differences, but gave up rather quickly; their murmurs quickly mingled into a dissonant chorus of questions. It felt as if they were already starting to work on something, the urgency in their tone striking against the dark backdrop of her forced aversion.

There was an ache in her soul that overwhelmed every fiber of her being. It took moments of recollection to come to terms with the absence of a wailing infant. Though, even before her arrival in this strange realm, she recalled nothing but her own cries then. Her hand instinctively moved to her stomach, fingers grasping at the soft mohair of her sweater, but there was nothing there—only an unsettling emptiness. A small whimper escaped her lips, impossible to stifle.

It prompted a louder cry, to which she covered her mouth--sinking her teeth into the cotton of her sleeve. There was no way she’d not been noticed by now.

In truth, she was terrified. She didn’t know where she was. Apolline knew it was time to open her eyes.

Before her lay a shroud of darkness, dirt, and the flickering shadows of shrubbery, punctuated by the shoes of those who moved around her. She understood in full now that she was not alone, in fact she was surrounded by many people. With a tremor in her limbs, she pushed herself upright, deliberately avoiding the gaze of anyone who might dare meet her eyes.

As she sat up, the fire caught her periphery—a warm glow that tugged at her instinct to crawl closer. Like a pressing instinct, she made her way toward it, still refusing to acknowledge the presence of others. Her trembling hands reached for the flames, just shy of the heat that threatened to burn her. Settling by the fire, she fixed her gaze upon its flickering light, watching as the last of her tears evaporated into her skin or fell silently to the ground.

In that moment, there was a small comfort in the warmth. Although she still felt the chill of her surroundings, her emotions began to dull, enveloped by the fire’s embrace.

It was difficult for her to think beyond this sliver of solace. She was acutely aware of the others around her, and from behind, she sensed the approach of two figures, their murmurs blending into the shadows. Apolline remained tense in her position, unsure of what to do next.





























♪ tomorrow's taken ♪

mojave 3






♡coded by uxie♡

 



jaxson ─ diversion.





































  • mood



    confused and lost.
















Am I dead yet? The truck should have hit him by now but there was no pain, only the dull throbbing of his inner cheek and the stinging on his scraped knees. His eyes remained shut for another long minute before he finally willed himself to open one and then finally the other.

Immediate confusion set in at the sight before him. He was no longer kneeling in the middle of the street with a truck moving towards him head on. Instead, he was surrounded by looming trees and darkness. That confusion was quickly replaced by dread as a shiver ran down his spine. Where the bloody hell am I? There were no forests nearby where he lived. How did he end up here?

Maybe I was knocked out and dropped off here? The thought unsettled him, and he looked down to inspect himself for any other signs of damage and harm. None could be seen but that did not bring him much relief. I need to get up. I can’t stay here. He winced as he began picking himself up, his sore muscles and joints hurting in protest.

A sudden weight in his jacket pocket took him but surprise and he cautiously placed his hand in to fish it out. Huh…I don’t remember having this with me. He studied the flashlight, rubbing his hands over the cold metal, trying to find some sort of clue of where it came from. Last he remembered he had his keys, wallet, lighter, and…my guitar pick. Panic started to set in as he patted down his clothes and rummaged through all of his pockets.

His lucky guitar pick along with everything else he had was gone. Ever since he had gotten his first guitar pick at the age of 10 years old, he had never part with it. Now that it was gone he felt even more vulnerable and exposed than he already was. He tugged at the sides of his jacket, pulling it closer to his body. A soft hum escaped his lips as he tried to calm himself, preventing the panic from taking over him completely. It was a tune to a lullaby he has not heard in years, but remembers all too well. It had pulled him through during the darkest of times, and helped him ground himself whenever he felt he was slipping.

He needed to keep a clear head if he was going to figure out where he was and how to get out of here. The sound of voices and the crackling of…fire? caught his attention and without much second thought he began to follow it. There were other people out here, maybe they can tell him where he is. His steps were slow and cautious, each crunch of a leaf and crack of wood caused him to flinch as he continued to be aware of his surroundings. He could not shake off the feeling that someone or something was watching him beyond the trees.

Eventually, he made it to a clearing where a campfire sat in the middle ablaze. He was still cold and damp from earlier, making him feel an immediate draw to the possible warmth it provided. As he stepped more into the circle he noticed the camping gear on the ground. Some were already set up into living quarters, while the rest waited, crumpled on the ground for their rightful owners. More questions began to flood his mind as he tried to make sense of what was in front of him.

He was not the only one here either. The voices that had led him here were coming from what appeared to be other people like him. He turned his head to listen to what they were saying, but it appeared that they were arguing amongst each other. Maybe they are also lost. He thought about approaching them but stalled for a moment. The last thing he wanted was to walk into another fight. But he needed answers.

A woman by the fire suddenly caught his eye. She seemed approachable and harmless, looking for the same warmth he desperately craved in his wet clothing. He decided to approach her, making sure to find a place by the fire that was close enough to speak to her, but not too close that she felt any discomfort by his presence. He rubbed his hands together and placed them before the fire, savoring the heat.

“I reckon you have no clue where we are.” He glanced over to her direction, waiting for a response.

































bitter sweet symphony



the verve










♡coded by uxie♡
 



cyra - ace in the hole.





































  • mood



    confused and pissed off.
















Sprawled out on her back a low groan escaped Cyra's mouth as she groggily came to. Her eyes blinked open, confusion flooding her mind as her brain slowly woke up and began to take in her surroundings. The first thing she noticed was how cold it was. Why am I lying on the floor? She moved to place her hand against the ground, ready to push herself upright, but instead of the cold metal floor of the arena she skated in Cyra felt dirt and the crunch of leaves under her hands. Panic quickly overwhelmed her senses and Cyra sat up with a jolt. Goosebumps crept along her skin, and her heart felt like it wanted to tear its way out of her chest. Her gaze jumped around as she took in the unfamiliar space around her.

It was dark, so dark that she could hardly see more than ten feet in front of her. The only light source Cyra could make out was the glow of a campfire not too far from where she was. As she took in more of her surroundings Cyra realized that she wasn't alone here. Chatter from other people buzzed in her ear but it was like she couldn't properly understand what was being said, not that anything anyone around her had to say would soothe the unease in her chest.

As she sat up into a sitting position she decided that it looked like the middle of fucking nowhere. All she could see was a dense fog and trees that went on for miles. Even if she were to make a run for it Cyra had a sinking feeling she wouldn't get free.

It was bad enough that she was in an unknown location, being surrounded by people she didn't know only made it ten times harder.

What the hell happened? Cyra racked her brain trying to piece together as much as she could from before she woke up here. I was leaving the rink... Or at least Cyra had been trying to leave the rink. All she could remember was hearing strange noises and that she tried to leave out a side exit but the door wouldn't budge no matter how hard she had pushed it. Everything went dark after that. Did someone knock me out and bring me here? The thought unnerved her. Had someone kidnapped her and a bunch of other people and were now keeping them trapped in the woods? Cyra decided that the answer didn't matter. All she knew was that she needed to get the hell out of here as soon as possible.

She rose to her feet, glancing down to inspect herself. Nothing felt off or broken but she bent down and began to pat herself up just to be safe. As she reached her hoodie something hard pressed against her hand. Confused she reached a hand into the pocket and pulled out a...flashlight? Why do I have this? She ran her fingers over the metal, her head tilting slightly as she examined it. A flashlight was good. The woods around her were so dark that at least with this she would be able to see where she was going. After testing that it was working properly Cyra stuffed her newest discovery back into her pocket.

As the initial panic started to wear off anger began to take its place. She couldn't believe that something like this was happening to her right now.

Out of the corner of her eye, Cyra noticed that a woman with dark hair was waving at her, inviting her over to join them. Her initial reaction was that she wanted to deny the offer. Cyra didn't know any of these people, how could she trust that they wouldn't turn around and harm her if she let her guard down or when she was distracted by something else? Thankfully, Cyra had the good sense to realize that while she didn't trust or know anyone here it appeared that they were all in the same boat as her and that it would be better for her to at least try and see if anyone else had any idea what was going on. Strength in numbers or whatever it was they said in movies.

Tentatively Cyra walks over, hands stuffed in her pockets and body tensed. As she got within talking distance she decided to cut to the chase. "I'm guessing you don't know where we are either?" It was a shot in the dark but it never hurt to ask.

































cry for love



백현










♡coded by uxie♡
 



catalina ─ built to last.





































  • mood



    confused and slightly in denial.
















Catalina groans and squeezes their eyes shut tighter as their senses come rushing back to them. A wind chill bites into their skin and causes her hair to stand on edge. They cautiously shift their hands, but their fingers end up sinking into... is that dirt? Suddenly, the acrid smell of smoke infiltrates her nostrils and oh god—they prepare to grab something to extinguish whatever fire that's been somehow set ablaze as they scramble to sit up.

Blood roars in their ears from the adrenaline spike. What they initially assumed to be an immediate threat is only a campfire flickering in the distance. Normally, the safety confirmation would be a relief, but right now it just increases their confusion tenfold.

She struggles to put the puzzle pieces together. What the hell could have possibly happened between cleaning leftover glass shards from their colleague’s mistake and this? The last thing they can recall is trying to get up from the laboratory floor. They accidentally bumped their head on the table, sharp pain began to spread, and then—darkness. They expect it to sting when they tenderly touch the area she hit, but even that feeling has strangely disappeared.

Black mist unfurls to reveal a metal box placed at their feet, but its tendrils vanish when she tries to reach out to them. A crease forms between Catalina’s eyebrows as they examine what they’ve been given. A pang of sadness hits her at the sight of the tools that the item contains. The set they usually rely on for projects was handed down to them by their father; they couldn't let it go once it was time to move to Los Angeles. More memories threaten to resurface, but the cotton-like haze that surrounds them forces her to redirect her focus to the present.

Shouts coming from the direction of the campfire cause Catalina to suck in a breath of surprise. So. They're stuck in the middle of the woods. At the dead of night. Along with at least two other, very angry sounding people. Maybe this isn't as bad as it seems. They could be like me.

After what seems like forever, they finally stand and grab the toolbox's handle. They'll be out of here in no time once they figure everything out. This'll be one of those weird stories that turn out to be funny because they're so completely and utterly ridiculous and there's absolutely no way they could actually happen. Right? Right.

When they reach the outskirts of the area, they pause and blink at the amount of people gathered. Does anyone know what's going on? Most look as bewildered as they feel. Tension already seems to be running high among a group on the other side of the campsite as she slowly approaches the fire. They halt in their footsteps, however, when another pacing man frantically yells for answers.

From the corner of her eyesight, they notice how a nearby blonde woman in a yellow Pink Floyd shirt freezes as well. They breathe out while glancing between her hugging herself and the people building tents. They gingerly approach before they can think twice about it. “Are you alright?”

































no rulebook.



sammy rae & the friends.










♡coded by uxie♡
 
Last edited:
You must log in or register to reply here.

Users who are viewing this thread

Total: 2 (members: 0, guests: 2)

Similar threads

Hecotoro
Realistic or Modern Love, Death & Ghosts!
horror survival
Replies
0
Views
25
Hecotoro
Hecotoro
Juju
Realistic or Modern Feast of Decay
2 choices exploration horror
Replies
26
Views
815
seasonedcat
seasonedcat
strawberryspiral
Fantasy Murder in the City of Devils- IC
fantasy magic modern
Replies
14
Views
341
strawberryspiral
strawberryspiral
Morgaine Kri Chya
Futuristic Another Harry's Bar [ Walk-in | Always Open ]
2 multiple characters multiple genres mystery
Replies
35
Views
778
ShellBelles
ShellBelles
noxrequiem
Fantasy 𝒯𝐻𝐸 𝒲𝐼𝒞𝒦𝐸𝒟 𝒲𝐸𝒮𝒯
closed horror supernatural
Replies
19
Views
850
idiot
idiot
Back
Top