(june intro) WELCOME TO WAYWARD PINES!

[officialnotice]

INTRODUCTION LOG

JUNE 1ST - 3RD

AFTER THE ACCIDENT

There was an accident. The details are hazy and obscure, but it's still the first thing you remember. Maybe a car wreck — metal and broken glass everywhere, and the sirens and the screaming. Maybe your bike hit a rock and you careened uncontrollably off a mountain path. Maybe something less mundane, even impossible seems to have happened to you. You can't quite make out the details, not who was at fault or why. Try as you might, the chaos is all you can truly remember.

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

When you open your eyes, the accident is gone, replaced with white sterility. Perhaps somewhat alarming at first, until you blink at your surroundings and realize that you're in a hospital bed. You try to move but are sluggish, covered in a scattering of minor injuries you only vaguely remember receiving, not to mention the possibility of the partially healed remnants of other, seemingly older wounds.

It's a shame you won't be able to tell the difference between the two. Your memories are an indiscernible fog where they're not absent altogether, only a few standing out in your mind with any kind of certainty.

If the room happens to be empty when you wake, it's not for long. Nurses bustle in, taking your vitals and asking your name and anything else you might remember. Don't worry, they tell you. You'll make a full recovery here. Much of what you say (especially anything unusual, anything about monsters or magic or outlandish technology) will earn placating speculation of head trauma from the accident. You'll be told to stay put, not to push yourself, and to wait for the doctor to clear you before you leave.

Then you'll be left alone. Or maybe you'll find yourself visited by loved ones: family, or friends. You've lived here much or all of your life, so of course you have those things. Of course they already remember you being here, and may remember visiting you in the hospital while you were still unconscious.

Either way, the hospital's population is quadruple the usual, and you get the impression the nurses are working themselves ragged just running damage control. You might hear talk around the hospital of other small population spikes over the past few days, though many patients appeared to be well enough to be released the same day, and the same might be said of you. Or at least the staff doesn't seem to be too concerned. You can even leave your room without much fuss, any doctor or nurse that might try to intercept you getting called away almost immediately to deal with something even more pressing.

Of course, it's not so unusual to settle in until you're discharged, either. You may choose to wait for loved ones to come pick you up, even speak to your fellow patients, whether roommates or others wandering the halls. The more enterprising and suspicious might even consider it an opportunity to poke around for a few basic answers.

JUNE 1ST - 4TH

GETTING USED TO HOME AGAIN

However you get there, outside the birds sing a joyful song, and though the air is just a bit crisp, the sky's as sunny as you've ever seen it. It's bright enough to make you squint for a moment before you feast your eyes on the quaint little mountain town of Wayward Pines, though that might just be some sort of side effect from your accident. Trees line the street at regular intervals, carefully manicured and slightly waterlogged from the recent flood. Cars cruise by at a safe and respectable speed. Fellow pedestrians spare you glances, some wary, others concerned or just friendly. It probably depends on how clothed you were when you left the hospital.

This isn't even the picturesque city center, though a colorful nearby sign reads "Main Street" with an arrow pointing due south, followed in smaller font by a list of businesses you don't recognize (could be a good direction to head in, though — maybe it'll jog your memory), and one that you might: Wayward Pines Sheriff's Department. You've likely caught wind by now that any clothing or other items you had on you at the time of your accident are being held by the Sheriff until you're well enough to claim them. Not to mention the keys to your home, kept locked and safe at the station for you. That should probably be your next stop, though if anything's missing in what they hand over you'd be the last to know.

It's time to get home, to recover from your ordeal and try to sort through your memories. Do you remember this house, the pictures of family on the walls and how to navigate to the bathroom in the middle of the night? Maybe it's easier with loved ones living with you, helping you get settled, or maybe you're on your own. Either way, over the next few days it's a good idea to try to remember your routines, to get out and finally visit Main Street if you haven't already. Maybe you even remembered that you work in one of the more familiar sounding shops, or elsewhere in town. Makes sense they'd give you some time off to recover and get reacclimated to your life here, but eventually you should probably get back to work. You haven't seen your co-workers in a few days, and besides, you have to be able to put bread on the table.

JUNE 5TH

GLUG GLUG'S GRAND OPENING!

Town hall is listening, and town hall has heard you loud and clear (their surveillance equipment is of the highest quality, after all). While there appears to have been some... clerical issues and red tape concerning the highest voted name, when the fifth rolls around the newly completed and lovingly anointed Glug Glug's opens its doors to the public for the official grand opening!

For an old diner, this place has undergone an amazing transformation, with a ground, second, and basement floor all open to the public and offering a wide variety of entertainment options within:

The ground floor features a long bar along one wall where one can order coffee, tea, soda, hot chocolate, whatever your little caffeinated heart desires, as well as alcoholic drinks 10% or under — provided you can show some form of ID, of course. Linda, perched at the bar with a mimosa in hand, will tell anyone who listens that she voted for Pubby McPubface, but honestly, who's listening to Linda, anyway? Pastries and small appetizers are also available at half price for the special event, and card and board games make inviting and colorful centerpieces on the tables scattered around the room (there are classics like Monopoly and the rousing game of Jenga in the corner, amongst less common fare you may not have played before, like Cards Against Humanity and Settlers of Catan).

A lounge on the second floor overlooks the ground floor and features plush couches and chairs, ambient lighting and a pleasant, relaxing atmosphere to contrast with the low buzz of activity below. A small balcony out back provides a peaceful, quiet view of some of the very pines after which our town was named.

The basement is where anyone interested will find music, dance, billiards and booze. A small stage on one end features regular local live performances, with a vast stretch of the room devoted to a dance floor and just a few private booths set into the wall around the edges. The bar down here serves the harder stuff to those that can prove they're old enough to be handling it, and one corner of the room is devoted to a billiards table and two large pinball machines.

Technically the basement level is open to all ages, but getting down there requires showing your ID and getting your hand stamped, and anyone under 16 is highly encouraged to be accompanied by an adult. And, of course, anyone caught sneaking drinks to minors will be summarily kicked out, as well as reported to Sheriff Griffith for a good talking to about, you know, civic duty and such. It's honestly not worth it, you know how he goes on.

Today is supposed to be a party after all, let's not spoil it just yet.

MOD NOTES

Welcome to our fifth mingle log for newbies and oldbies alike!

This log is meant to cover characters' first five days in Wayward Pines. Characters for this round will appear staggered in the hospital between the 1st and the 3rd, and a CR building event will occur on the 5th, after everyone has had a suitable amount of time to get settled in town. For the most part, only the five memories detailed in your character's application are remembered throughout the duration of this log, although their false Wayward Pines memories may also begin to surface (in those who've opted to utilize this mechanic) as the week wears on. These memories, as noted in the FAQ, feel very real and are accompanied by as much emotion or sentiment as a real memory would be.

PLEASE INCLUDE IN SUBJECT LINE: Character Name, date, location, and Open or Closed, to help keep things organized and make your character easy to find.

If you have any questions regarding this intro log, feel free to ask them on the FAQ or the relevant plurk.

Comments

Peter Pan | June 1-5 | Hospital-Town-5013-Glug Glug's | OTA

[beallandendall]

June 1-2 - "After the Accident"

[ Waking up in a hospital was probably supposed to be startling and jarring, but Peter woke as if he were still in his own bed. It came with a sigh, a smile and a stretch before he was rolling over to investigate the distinct lack of animal sounds or quiet sniffling of children. He knew what a hospital was, knew by the white walls and the cleanliness of the place with all of its machines and the quiet intercom beyond the closed door that he had to be in one. He felt amazing, better than he could recall in a long time, so the momentarily confusing idea that he was without... what? A tree? - was something that a small set-back.

The fact was that he did feel tired but as if a long battle was finally over. Energy seemed to fill him even as the nurses came in with their smiles and their pleasantries, checking him over and asking him how he was feeling. He answered honestly - he felt as if he had finally gained a second chance on life - and they were out of his room within minutes given how his vitals were normal, and he asked no pressing questions.

Instead, he rose to pull on the clothing that felt wrong on his body, slipped his feet into sneakers that had no place there, and combed his hair with his fingers. He slipped out of the room and looked down at the shadow that was cast from his heels and squinted at it. ]

Are you supposed to be there?

[Odd how such simple details meant he wanted to listen in on conversations, to poke into rooms where he didn't belong, all with a charming smile and a half-hearted apology for his wanderings. He was a curious boy; everyone knew that. ]

June 2-4 - "Getting Used to Home"

[ Where he lived was not where he thought that he lived. It was a house with a Father and a Sister - gross, no girls in the house! - but he was more at home in the backyard and when he viewed the treehouse there. That was his little island, his place among the world, though he knew that he would simply go where he would as it suited him. Like the wind.

Walking through the house, he poked and prodded some items, investigating the rooms and giving little to no thought to privacy. Why would he? This was his too, wasn't it? So why did the house feel foreign? When he seated himself down on the edge of the bed, it felt as if he were simply visiting, as if nothing about this room - the trophies on the mantle, the ribbons on the wall - were actually any of his achievements. They felt small and petty, like his own aspirations were far greater than 'first place' here and there.

He bounced a little on the bed, feeling the springs give. Jumping on one's bed was a game that small children played, that attempt to momentarily capture the sensation of flight and oh Peter suddenly felt infected with it. He closed his eyes and could practically taste the feeling, the idea of wind in his air, of freedom spreading out all around him. This might not be his house, but it was one he frequented, and that meant the window was as well.

He left the paltry enjoyment of bouncing on a bed to push up the window sill, to slip his legs out so that they dangled on the outside of the house. A warm breeze brushed his face, and he knew with a single push, he could drop from the second story, to momentarily grasp the freedom of flight. He wasn't ready for the real thing; his energy was only just returning. What was a little fun without a risk? ]

June 5 - "Glug-Glug's Grand Opening"

[ The press of people was annoying, but he was here to slip between them all the same. Since leaving the hospital the sense of wrongness had grown, an itch to be on the move, to find a place that he could almost recall but not quite name. He also had a distinct lack of fondness for adults; he was a child to their eyes, but Lord knew that he was so much more. He felt it; he knew that something very different existed inside of him. He wasn't the most well-behaved boy, but he also had watched the police on their various rounds thinking that someone else was clearly far more naughty than he.

Here in the open doors of the diner, he slipped among the people that were enjoying themselves, taking whatever was free and maybe a few things that clearly were not. He walked around with a stein but it had nothing more than bubbly soda that was too sweet. For some reason, alcohol was not beverage that he had any interest in, as if it were nothing more than old hat to him though he couldn't recall every partaking in it before.

With his hand occupied, he perhaps looked like he wanted to be there. He joined many in the basement and was immediately attracted to the loud noises and bright likes of the pinball machines. Drink thoroughly abandoning, he began to play with the full intention of mastering the game. The loud noises, the bright lights, the requirement of skill was something he invested himself in, though he parted his attention to listen in on the conversations closest to him. ]

"Getting Used to Home" [Probably around June 6th but w.e.]

[babyhunter]

[For most of Clary's life she had visited her dad on alternating weekends and then a handful of week nights and holidays through the year. She has her own room and also a half brother. She doesn't mind. She's always liked having a sibling except that Peter is a pain in the ass most of the time.

Since her fathers discovery of her mothers departure she's been living with her father and brother full time. She isn't sure if she can handle that much of Peter and ends up sticking to her room. Slowly the walls were filling with more paintings and drawings. There were a few around the house that she'd given her father but she's pretty sure they're just up there because they were from her, not because they were any good. She'd brought some things from her moms house. One of which was a TV and some VHS tapes. All she needs is soda and popcorn and then she really doesn't have to leave her room. The sword that she'd gotten the month before is stashed under her bed, it's hard to hide something that's at least 2 feet long but the bed feels like a safe place. It's wrapped in a blanket, if only so someone doesn't touch it by accident and burn themselves. Her sketch diary is usually kept in her pillow case for safe keeping but as she flips through it she realizes that there is a page missing...]

PETER!

[Clary rises to her feet and sets off towards his room. Her steps are quick, her fingers curling to fists at her sides. It's always been like this. At least that's what she remembers.

She pushes open the door to his room, finding him sitting on the windowsill.]

How many times have I told you not to go into my room or threw my things!

JUNE 5

[onteamdyson]

[Some of the faces milling about look familiar in a weird 'I know that face' kind of way. Only a few of them have triggered that weird sensation in the back of her brain. The feeling that she's falling while standing up perfectly straight, the rush of images that can't possibly be real filling her head, making her temples throb. It happens as she scans the crowd and sees the... boy. He's a boy. She knows him but she doesn't.

Her approach is slow, cautious, not timid but certainly careful. The pieces are starting to fit together while clashing against the reality she holds in her mind.]

Peter?

june 2, "after the accident"

[sidle]

❰ may was a month for hiding. in the closet, under the table, sometimes curled up on one end of a couch. she was waiting for something. someone — cordy, wes, charles. angel. someone to rescue her. show her that even in this new place, she didn't have to be afraid.

but nobody came. nobody came, and she didn't get out much more than grabbing groceries but she did listen to what happened on the phones, and it sounded like things were just gettin' worse. so june, she's decided, is a month for helping. (and maybe a little hiding sometimes, but rome wasn't built in a day, now was it?) and who needs more help than folks at the hospital?

so here she is, dressed in sunny colors (nice and reassuring, y'know?) and shouldering a backpack filled to the brim. and in fact, she's looking for who exactly needs help first when the voice speaks up from just behind her.

she startles around to face him, but don't take it personal, she's just a little jumpy in general. the question ('are you supposed to be there?') gives her pause, because unfortunately, she doesn't for a second consider the possibility that it wasn't aimed at her. ❱

I, well. I guess not, really, not like the nurses or docs. I just thought that-, that maybe I could help out... Somehow.

June 5

[zymasoldat]

[ Bucky's at the grand opening for the sake of appearances, mostly. To look like he's compliant, back to the Bucky Barnes people in Wayward Pines expect him to be-- one who's a hell of a lot more easygoing and sociable than he's felt in a good long time. It's going okay, for the most part. He's mingling, smiling, chatting, getting a feel for the general mood around town. What throws him, at least for a moment, is spotting a boy over by the pinball machines. That's... his cousin.

He knows that they're not really related, because Bucky's been in town long enough that the pattern's long been clear. A wave of 'accidents' each month, followed by the arrival (return?) of people his mind tells him are friends and neighbors and, sometimes, family. They aren't, but that knowledge can't stop the feelings that accompany each memory. Peter's a bit of a pain in the ass sometimes. Mischievous, like Kenzi. And, same as with Kenzi, he can't help but feel some familial fondness and protectiveness over this person who is, honestly, just a stranger.

Damn it.

Bottle of beer in hand (not that he can get drunk off of this; it's just for show. A prop to make him look like every other guy here), he approaches his 'cousin,' slinging his human arm over the kid's shoulders, playing the part of the Bucky Barnes who exists in the false memories here. His robot arm is partially visible, since he's wearing a 3/4 sleeve shirt, but it's one of those things that just exists without much commentary here in town. There aren't any false memories to account for how or why Bucky Barnes has a robot arm, and asking questions about it would be against the laws stated on the many official notices posted around town. So there's no reason to hide it. ]

Hey, kid. You know, there's an open pool table if you get bored with this thing. [ 'This thing' being the pinball machine, which-- hope he didn't interrupt your groove or anything, Pete. Anyway, come play with him (so that he can get a sense for who the hell you are). ]

june 4th? "Getting Used to Home"

[notblayde]

[The nice thing about living alone was never having to explain his actions to anyone. Matt can come and go as he pleases, he can wear whatever he wants in the house, he can keep whatever schedule he wants. His life is his own! He never has to worry about coming back home to anyone or any expectations.

Which means he can slam the door and run blind to the bedroom, ready to face plant into the bed.

... Except for the fact that there's a strange person jumping on his bed. Matt stops stock still in the doorway, staring at the scene in front of him. Somehow, someway, someone broke into his house without any kind of struggle and is just... Here! A thousand thoughts fly through his head. He has a gun now. His fingertips brush against it.

What?

No. Don't be stupid. Why'd you almost shoot your house mate, Matt? The town's getting to him. His past is getting to him. Matt yanks his hand up a little too fast and bangs on the door frame instead.]

Hey! Excuse me - What... Why are you in my room? [Not his house as a whole? Something in the back of his neck itches, feels like that might be alright. Like his brain suddenly wants to remember this kid. Does he remember him?] I thought we talked about this.

[Did they? They had to have, or he wouldn't have said it. He tries to focus on his real memories, on what he's been told by Kenzi about the town implanting things, but the shock of the moment makes it difficult.]

June 5

[futureserialkiller]

[ There's another boy who doesn't quite fit in: Carl Grimes, the one-eyed kid with a sheriff's hat. He's sipping on his ginger ale, looking around for everything and nothing. Carl remembers a play like this once, a party - but it all fell away, becoming a sham.

Which is why he manages to lock gazes at Peter. Another boy like him, around the same age.

Carl looks away, not uncertain, but unused to how other teenagers interact. He gets along with Mike (the guy with the mangled hand) just find, if because they both understood the meaning of being fucked up and being noticed for being fucked up. He's not sure where this guy stands. ]

dutch | 1-5th | glug-glug's & dansation | ota

[avicula]

𝟻𝚝𝚑 | 𝚐𝚕𝚞𝚐 𝚐𝚕𝚞𝚐'𝚜

[ dutch has come to check out glug glug's grand opening despite thinking that the name is stupid as hells (hell, the part of her that is still clinging to the reality of this town, of her memories of the people here corrects, but dutch forces it down. the name may be stupid as hells, but at least they're serving alcohol. she starts with beer and sticks with it while making a slow round of all floors, pretending that she isn't checking the exits, that she isn't keeping track of who's where at any given moment.

she can be persuaded to play a round of darts or pool — she's frighteningly good at both — or she might nod at someone near the dance floor, a lazy ] Fancy a dance? [ that could or could not be an invitation for more. dutch genuinely likes dancing, so she's not only asking for the distraction it provides.

she prefers weaver's, but she'll still sit herself down at the bar later in the evening and order some snacks and more drinks. enough to share, if anyone's inclined to try. ]

𝟷-𝟻𝚝𝚑 | 𝚍𝚊𝚗𝚜𝚊𝚝𝚒𝚘𝚗 (𝚍𝚊𝚗𝚌𝚎 𝚕𝚎𝚜𝚜𝚘𝚗𝚜 + 𝚜𝚎𝚕𝚏-𝚍𝚎𝚏𝚎𝚗𝚌𝚎)

[ dutch has been running a dance studio called dansation for almost as long as she's been in this town, which means she hasn't really run it long at all, but it feels like it's been much longer. there are all kinds of dancing lessons, from swing dance to ballet (though if you want to be professional about ballet, you'd best go see natasha romanoff), from argentine tango and jazz dance.

what she's started doing only recently is teaching some people self-defence, too. ]

5th.

[mierda]

[ He's got memories of the town, but that doesn't mean he feels particularly attached to it. They're still isolated, unsentimental. Bars and people and odd jobs, the sense that he's perfected the art of not settling down even while confined to a small space.

Dutch is one of those people. She prefers Weaver's; so does he, though that thought feels like it's got jetlag. Seth ignores the thought in favor of approaching the bar, leaning onto the counter one seat over. ]

You come here often?

[ That's a joke, but the delivery's still authentically smug. ]

5th

[vdova]

[ The bar scene isn't her thing; this new establishment borders enough on it (for Natasha) that she almost doesn't go to the opening. But curiosity gets the better of her, the need to stake out the place the people upholding the laws of this place oh so generously decided to give them. It's suspicious.

She settles at the bar, orders a beer, frowns at the domestic nature of it but sips on it anyway, swinging around on her stool to watch the crowd. The woman making her paces catches Natasha's eye, and Natasha watches her make her rounds, frowning slightly when she loses sight of the woman. She takes a small moment to consider getting up to try and find her—

But that's when the woman pops back into her field of vision. The second they make eye contact, Natasha raises an eyebrow as if to say 'takes one to know one'. ]

𝟻𝚝𝚑 | 𝚐𝚕𝚞𝚐 𝚐𝚕𝚞𝚐'𝚜

[ishisstrength]

[Justine moves down to the bar later in the evening, catching sight of the woman sitting at the bar. She remembers her faintly at first and then bit by bit the memories fill in.

She steps towards the woman, her heels clicking softly on the ground. Justine is dressed to attract and hopefully find out a little bit more about this town. It's clear that her and Thomas don't belong and as confident as he seems, his secret is still one that should be selfishly guarded. To do that Justine needs more; information and connections. Anything that might help in the future.

She takes a seat next to Dutch, her expression light and warm.] Having a fun evening? [She remembers knowing this woman when she was younger but Justine wonders if that's even true. Somethings felt so real while others didn't.]

Wade Wilson | June 1 | Hospital; Town | OTA

[ishotyouuu]

i. hospital food is helping the medicine go down

[If this is heaven, then the powers that be have a pretty fucked up sense of humor.

Wade wakes up from chaotic dreams of noise and bright lights and pain to the decidedly unpleasant view from a hospital bed. Not really the position that one wants to be in under any circumstances, least of all someone who's had a fear of hospitals since as far back as he can remember. Which... isn't really all that far back, if he's gonna be perfectly honest. Attempting to rack his brain for anything approaching familiar causes the pain in his head to reach "Mama June doing the Riverdance in stiletto heels" levels of intensity, and so he gives up after a while. Works on his breathing. Attempts to slow his heart rate.

Waits for an opportunity.

Fortunately, in a complete reversal of how normal hospitals operate, he doesn't have to wait all that long to get discharged. All it takes is a nurse too frazzled and stressed from the apparent influx of patients to really concentrate on what she's doing. Poor dear. Her day's about to get a whole lot shittier.

Feigning sleep, Wade watches her through half-closed eyelids as she goes through the motions of checking his vitals on the EKG, adjusts his bedding; takes his blood pressure for what Wade’s sure is the millionth time. What, no changing his bedpan? God, the service in here is shit. There’s nothing on his face to give himself away when he slowly slips the IV needle out of his arm, holding the tube tightly to prevent any suspicious leakage. It’s hard to remain still like this, when every nerve ending in his body is telling him to get the fuck outta dodge before they decide to get flighty with a syringe, but Wade knows the value in being patient. Sometimes. Occasionally. In this instance, anyway. He holds his improvised weapon tightly in one hand and waits.

Patients and hospital workers alike are no doubt startled to hear a shrill scream coming from one of the rooms, and are even more startled to see the man with the horrific skin condition dragging one of the nurses backwards toward the exit, IV tube wrapped tightly around her neck; IV stand trailing awkwardly behind them. His tone is almost unnervingly conversational.]

Okay guys, just keep doin’ what you’re doin’! Just a little patient transference goin’ on, nothin’ to see here! Anyone takes one fucking step towards me and a garrote-induced hickey is only gonna be the second-worst thing to happen to Nurse Betty here, understand?

ii. Gonna take a walk without a sound

[Well. This place is certainly giving him some severe Stephen King vibes. All that’s left now is for Tim Curry dressed in a clown suit to come out of the forest and terrorize the populace. But at least he’s free of that godforsaken deathtrap they call a hospital. Wade’s almost disappointed at how easy it was to escape-- almost like he hadn’t needed such a flashy exit in the first place. But hell if he was just gonna sneak outta there like some sorta second-rate jewel thief. He’s got standards to maintain, after all. He thinks, anyway-- his memory's a little fuzzy at the moment.

Wade ditches his convenient Rent-a-Hostage fairly quickly, briefly watching her scurry off down the street before setting his sights in the opposite direction. Every journey began with a single step, as Confucius once said-- or was that John Denver? Whatever, it wasn’t important, and Wade’ll be damned if he’s gonna walk the whole way to… wherever the fuck he was going when he ended up here. All he needs to do is find himself a nice ride, preferably with the keys still left in it.

Apologies to anyone who spots the hideously scarred man in a hospital gown walking around town with his ass hanging out. He’s just passing through, honest.]

ii. Gonna take a walk without a sound

[ishisstrength]

[As Justine's memories return she finds fragments and scenes that don't fit in with the rest of her past. They're to much like lost shards of broken glass. She finds it unsettling but she chooses not let those around her know the twisting uncertainty that has knotted in her stomach.

She picks up her clothes from the police station, finding a white backless dress waiting for her and a set of white stilettos. The fabric is soft and comfortable against her skin and her uneasiness begins to ebb.

Justine doesn't have expectations of the town. It's how she remembers and yet there are pieces that appear out of place. One of those pieces is a man walking in a hospital gown with his ass hanging out. She isn't bothered by the deformation but interested in the way he scouts the area.

She steps up next to him, her head canting to the side and spilling midnight black hair over her shoulder.] Looking for something? [She asks in a sweet voice.]

ii.

[hawkguyandpizzadog]

[the guy's not suited up in his customary red which is different enough to give clint a double take,
but that face is unavoidably recognizable, and he's calling out to him before he even thinks about it, wracking his head for the last time he'd run into deadpool and honestly coming up blank.]

You trying out a new look? Gotta say I don't think it suits you as much as the red.

[whether he can remember or not hardly even matters with deadpool anyway, half the time he still didn't know what the guy was on about]

ii. my new buddy

[shoplifter]

[Wow, Wade, you're lucky Laura is a weird kid who is used to adults being weird motherfuckers. She walks behind him quietly, holding a rather large bag of potato chips under her arm and making her way toward the vinyl record place; she really likes that place, even if she dislikes most of what she knows about the town. She does expect new people wandering. She doesn't expect a butt. She does expect adults to be weird motherfuckers. Behind her shades, the stoic face keeps on keeping on.

Chew, chew, chew.]

.....

Puedo ver tu culo.

[Put your cheeks away, you're offending the youths.]

i. i'd recognize that ass anywhere if i could remember anything

[handsomefoil]

[ Watching the incredibly odd hostage situation go down, a guy wearing a similar open-back hospital gown walks out of the building. But instead of being pantsless, he's wearing a pair of scrub bottoms. Stolen, of course. No way in hell is he going to walk around town with his (slightly unimpressive) ass hanging out.

He checked on the nurse to make sure she was OK— a little shaken up, but otherwise unharmed— before striding out the front door with little resistance. Especially after that performance. Even so, there seemed to be little to no effort to stop the crazy guy from flouncing out the door. Seeing the guy still wandering up ahead, he figures he might as well try and jog his own memory while he's at it. ]

Hey!

arthur kirkland/england | 1st - 2nd | around town | open

[unionjackingit]

a. hospital

[ Waking up somewhere he doesn't recognise with hazy at best memories isn't really new for Arthur, though it usually comes with a banging headache and a desire to pour all the tea he can down his throat. Of course, he doesn't know that yet. He doesn't know much at all actually, and it's extremely jarring.

He answers the questions the nurses have as best he can, a little short maybe - it is all very frustrating. His age is something the staff look uneasy about, because he's pretty sure he's well over a thousand years old. It's all... overwhelming. And Arthur - his name, one of the few things he's sure of - just wants to get out of here.

So once the nurses have left he's looking for a way out of the hospital in as modest a way a man with his arse hanging out can. He'll stop any other patient or visitor he comes across. ]

Excuse me - you don't happen to know the way out of here, do you? I feel like I need to be somewhere else. ...Probably.

b. outside the sheriff's office

[ After a short mildly embarrassing trip to the sheriff's office, Arthur quickly shoves his clothes on, then goes outside to take a closer look at his other items. Most are things expected - his ID tells him his name is Arthur and born in England, which are some of the few things he remembers. He has a phone, full of apps and pictures he doesn't recognise, some pound notes and coins. But there's also something rather confusing.

It's... a stick. Or a twig. A fancy one, but nothing that stands out. He stares at it, rather hoping something else will come to him, and when nothing does, he sighs and discards it, tossing it to the nearest rubbish bin. This must have been given to him by mistake.

There's a small flash, and the bin promptly turns into a rabbit, the stick lying next to it. Arthur pauses, staring at the place the bin had just been. ]

Oh.

c. glug glugs

[ He's not sure why, but a drink sounds great right now. He can be found all over Glug Glugs, but he spends most of his time downstairs at the bar.

And some of that time is admittedly spent arguing with the bartender when she asks for dollars and refuses to accept his ten pound note. ] Well, you - you'll have to help me out here, because sterling is the only currency have!

[ The bartender looks annoyed. Help a guy out so he can get his well needed beer? Or drag him away, either works. ]

a. hospital. (i'm sorry for her, lmao.)

[sidle]

❰ may was a month for hiding. in the closet, under the table, sometimes curled up on one end of a couch. she was waiting for something. someone — cordy, wes, charles. angel. someone to rescue her. show her that even in this new place, she didn't have to be afraid.

but nobody came. nobody came, and she didn't get out much more than grabbing groceries but she did listen to what happened on the phones, and it sounded like things were just gettin' worse. so june, she's decided, is a month for helping. (and maybe a little hiding sometimes, but rome wasn't built in a day, now was it?) and who needs more help than folks at the hospital?

so here she is, dressed in sunny colors (nice and reassuring, y'know?) and shouldering a backpack filled to the brim. and in fact, she's looking for who exactly needs help first when the voice speaks up from just behind her.

she startles around to face him, but don't take it personal, she's just a little jumpy in general. besides, she follows it up with a nervously reassuring sort of grin, and: ❱ Actually, I sure do. That's why I'm here, really, because hospitals are awful big and confusing and maybe it helps if somebody knows the way out the door. It's over this way, just - ❰ and she only now seems to notice his gown. ❱ Oh! Right. Golly, you'd think I'd be better at this, I'm not the one who's just wakin' up and all. Did you maybe want some pants? That's all I have, is pants. I didn't really know how many people were gonna be here, and that's the part that really needs covered, y'know?

John Blake | 1st - 5th | 5105, around town, Glug Glug's | OTA

[oversight]

II. Getting Used to Home Again

[ Leaving the hospital had been a personally quiet, albeit confusing affair. Unlike others, John had made no trouble on his way out, relying on what few memories remained to properly backup a position that naturally occurred to him: while he likes answers, he doesn't prefer to get them at the hands of disorder and disobedience. So, he follows his instincts (and the provided directions) to the police station — he's a cop, isn't he? — and then gathers his things and heads home.

Dwelling 5105 has a private entrance that leads to a basement apartment. It's as unfamiliar to John as everything else he's experienced in the past day or so. But the weightiness of the keys in his hand feels right, and he's not sure how that works. Everything he sees he finds acceptable — nothing stands out to him as garish, although something about the decor doesn't necessarily appeal to him. There's only one toothbrush in the bathroom. It has a blue handle and John thinks that's the color he'd choose. The kitchen feels setup for one. Blake can't remember living here, but if he does, he's living here alone, and inn some ways that's a relief.

He doesn't stay in one place too long.

After taking a shower and changing his clothes, he heads back out into the twilight of the day, feeling no more at home, but at least a bit more composed for his efforts. He might only remember a few things, but his personality remains intact. Taking his own recommendation to make pragmatic moves, none of which are accomplished by staying at home, he picks a few destinations to round out his day.

John stops at the coffee shop, orders a cup of coffee and waits around to drink it. He picks up a bottle of pills from the pharmacy, too, for aches and pains of the day. And dinner is out because he's not quite up to grocery shopping and cooking after the day he's had.

Meet John Blake anywhere along the way and your character is apt to receive awkward, but polite conversation, and perhaps a few harmless questions about town. ]



III. Glug Glug's Grand Opening

[ After a couple days working himself away from his lingering despair — there's one hell of an adjustment period when you're dealing with the slow drip of returning memories — John's dressed himself in something sharp and pushed himself to look in on Glug Glug's grand opening. It's been the talk of the town and while he's not entirely certain he'll be able to drum up the same amount of enthusiasm, the idea of having a drink and a little fun isn't entirely unappealing.

Beer in hand, he wanders from area to area, occasionally watching over a person's shoulder as they play a game, or eyeing the mingling groups over the second floor overlook. Everyone's having a good time, but Blake's spends a little too long working up the courage to let himself do the same early on.

It isn't until later in the evening that he starts asking around for opinions. ]

What's good?

[ A simple question, one easily open to interpretation. John doesn't have any bias at the moment, so he'll take a few recommendations, why not. Maybe someone will suggest a different drink, or dancing, or even a game. Or maybe he'll get as many strange looks as he's been giving. Only time will tell. ]



IV. Obligatory Wildcard

[ Open to any and all alternatives, including threads involving false memories, whether previously plotted or not. For questions, PM this account or hit me up @ blakeroo ]

iii

[thingsfall]

Not the, ah--

[ The grimace on Bruce's face shifts, less offense, more furrowed brow of concentration as he turns the bottle in his hand, peering at the label. ]

Artisan Pale Ale. Not the Artisan Pale Ale, it's terrible.

[ There's a stool open to Bruce's right; he gestures at it, inviting the other man to sit. ]

CLARKE GRIFFIN | JUNE 1-5TH | OTA

[romancekiller]

JUNE 1ST → GETTING USED TO HOME (CLOSED TO BELLAMY)

[clarke hadn't wasted any time with escaping the hospital the moment she woke up despite how she wasn't able to remember much of anything. the less answers she had the more frustrated she became that she couldn't piece together what happened. the nurses had all told her it was an accident but it felt all wrong. there was something in her gut that didn't trust this either.

she makes her way through town and eventually finds her way to the sheriff's department to pick up her things and the keys to her house which they already provide with the address since she can't remember it. it seems like she didn't exactly have much on her. one white outfit that stands out way too much but the other item she finds, her face just lights up and she can't help but feel relieved as she puts it back on her wrist and tries to make her way back home. her home that she doesn't remember either along with anything about this place.

her mind feels like a complete blank even when she finds arrives at her house. it was huge especially if she was living there on her own. she stares at it for a moment, wondering if that would jog her memory but it does nothing and all clarke can find herself thinking is that it was a really nice house. she takes a deep breath and walks along the pathway and up the stairs and uses her to open the door. she is just about to walk further inside to familiarize herself with the place when she hears a sound coming from what seems to be bathroom.

did someone just break into her house while she was at the hospital? she really can't believe her luck today. she immediately becomes on her guard as she follows the sound and she cautiously knocks on the door. it's probably not the best plan but it's the only one she has got right now and besides she can totally hold her own if she needs to otherwise maybe she really is that out of it and hearing things] Hello? Is anyone in there?

JUNE 2ND - 5TH → WILDCARD;

[ooc; choose your own adventure!! clarke was a bit preoccupied on her arrival but feel free to find her anywhere else exploring the town or let me know if you want something specific!]

[dominance]

[ bellamy storms out of the hospital and into the home that's apparently his. with himself cut up and bruised, with a pounding in his head and a raspiness still to his voice, he walks into the large house and ignores the muddled mess of his own head. he knows his way here, and yet he doesn't quite — there's an ark, with its thick, metallic walls lodged somewhere uncomfortably in his memory, and the photographs and the furniture inside of his house feels strange and yet familiar. ]

[ he should've stayed in that hospital bed a little longer, but he'd known the one person he needed and wanted to see most wasn't here. if she was, octavia would've slipped into his bed. ignoring most of what the nurses say, he manages to escape and gather his clothes — dirtied and ripped, stained with a little blood, and a jacket that's oddly familiar with how it makes him feel nostalgic and sad all at once — and hunts for safe cover that won't overwhelm his muddled mind. ]

[ standing in front of the mirror in the bathroom, bellamy's washed his face. there's dirt in his hair, blood drying in his hairline. there's an ugly purple line around his throat that he can't remember getting — the nurses had said he'd been in an accident, and yet he couldn't quite remember what. there's scrapes on his face, bruises all over his body. his ankle hurts just a little, but not as much as the burning in his throat every time he swallows. ]

[ when he hears that voice — familiar, warm, almost safe — he leaves the bathroom and walks out, but not without something sharp in his hand. it doesn't matter that it's a razor — bellamy knows he can use it if he must. he steps out, feet in socks as he'd peeled his shoes off to be able to get a good look at himself. dressed in his blue shirt and jeans, he walks as quietly as he can until he sees a thin figure and blonde hair. ]

[ the moment he sees her he recognises her. the first solid, real thing that's hit him since he woke up — the anxiety crawling inside of his chest seems to dissipate. the feeling of security blankets him. his hand lowers of its own accord, razor no longer a weapon in his hand. ]

Clarke. [ it sounds confused and relieved all at once. ]

Ana Lewis, June 5th, Glug Glugs [Death/brief suicide mention]

[seeyaduke]

[Glug Glugs is a stupid name. She'd decided that when the sign had first went up and decided that she wasn't going to spend any time there. However, since waking up in the hospital again, Ana has been feeling the need to not be alone. Yes, she had been killed at a party, but she wouldn't be caught unawares like that again. Of course the woman who did it was conveniently missing, but god knew who the hell might have a stupid idea like that again.

Still, once upon a time Ana had a death wish, and it had been brainwashed out of her, then it had been shaken out of her by what Rex had done, and if she ever was in that position again, all she would need to do was remember turning to dust during that party and she was forever cured of it. Well, at least this place was good for one thing when it came down to it.

But tonight was about mingling and having fun. She carried a beer in her hand as more of a prop than anything else; there was no use in spending the money for it when she couldn't get drunk. Dressing up had been a bonus of course, the outfit wasn't quite entirely her style, but she was working on it, and at least the skirt was short and the shoes were good. Letting her hair down physically as well as metaphorically, Ana wound her way through the crowd, occasionally stopping and flirting, or playing a game of pool, or just chatting with whoever happened to be around.]

[realists]

[ her heels are

impossible.

that's the first thing jyn notices. she hasn't bothered to dress up, she may well be incapable of the feat, so she is still in hand me down flannel "borrowed" from poe this time tied at the waist over her slim pants and serviceable boots. in comparison, ana looks like a supermodel (though that might just be ana) and jyn looks like a street urchin.

luckily, she is used to this, but it doesn't mean she doesn't stare. and point out as ana passes, ] Your, uh, ribbon's unfurling.

[ she gestures to her heels. ]

Leia Organa June 5th, Glug Glugs OTA!

[oldladyleia]

[Leia knows that she needs to be social. Part of hiding in plain sight is the ability to be social. Which was why she dragged herself to the opening of the new place that should actually be called something entirely different, but she wasn't going to worry about that now when there were plenty of other things to worry about than simply just a name. There was so much to worry about with the increase of police and Leia was reminded of how she grew up when there were Imperial Forces everywhere.

Maybe that's why she felt a bit broody tonight. She had forgone the beer and light liquor area and had gone down and ordered herself a double scotch, neat. Leia was reminded how it was Han's drink and there was something familiar in the bitter smokiness. Still, she nursed the drink because it wouldn't do for her to end up getting intoxicated in public. Public intoxication, her mother had told her, the one time she had done in when she was barely a teenager, was not the sort of thing that princesses did.

Funny how she never felt like less of a princess than she did here in this place.

Leia wasn't opposed to conversation, though. Far from it. To those who approached her in her booth, Vice-Principal Organa gave a warm smile, and she gestured towards the other side of the shadowed area. Yes, it was probably a little loud, but live music and darkness, Leia knows, covers a multitude of sins.]

[aeturnus]

[ He isn't quite looking for company when he returns from the upper floor after nursing his vertigo for a while. Buzzing head and confusing thoughts all swirling around remind him he was in the hospital with amnesia just a few days ago, brains till foggy. Injuries are gone but it seems like whatever the trauma of the accident, it's still got him going for a loop.

So he might not be looking for company, but when he sees his old friend hiding away in the corner at the booth, he's drawn to her anyway. It's a sort of longstanding comfort he finds when he sees her and he slides into the seat opposite her with his half-drunk coffee, and he smiles softly. ]

Penny for your thoughts? Heck, let's make it two.

Cy | 1st - 5th | Around Town & Glug Glug's | OTA

[sparkplugs]

I - Getting Used to Home Again [1st]

[Cy totters around town aimlessly, stopping every now and then to hiss and spit at her own rear end. She feels strange today, and getting her body to cooperate seems impossible. Her back legs won't listen to her no matter how much she yells at them, and it's increasingly frustrating.

Eventually she gives herself into it, flopping down on the pavement with a resentful murr. Her tail continues to twitch irritably as she glares at her treacherous legs.]

II - Getting Used to Home Again [3rd]

[Her legs are feeling better today, and though she still finds her mind full of holes she feels much clearer than she had just the other day. Not sure of so much as her own name Cy explores as much as she can.

Shops, cafes, and patches of uneven concrete are all in need of investigating. She runs around the town all day with no signs of tiring. Her eyes are bright yet slightly off, as though there's something missing. Or maybe something present no one else has.]

Hi! I'm me.

III - Glug Glug's Grand Opening! [5th]

[It's quite the party, and Cy's been excited by everything. She does, however, have a clear favourite out of all the attractions. She watches the pinball machines with unbridled delight, alternating between short bursts of watching and scampering around the player's legs when she can no longer contain herself. If no one is playing she tangles herself around the feet of whoever happens to be near.]

My name's Cy. Lift me up! There's a whole world to see up there, see.

[She's remembered her name by now, it seems, though she has yet to learn manners.]

iii.

[aeturnus]

[ He's about the only one in this corner while it seems a tense pool game is going on and plenty of people have gathered around there instead. The voice doesn't surprise him because there's kids here too, but when he looks down all he sees is... a cat. He laughs a little to himself and kneels down to it, hand out as if to entreat its attention.

He isn't discounting what he heard, but uh... this is a cat. No way. Not even after everything going on in his life right now. Come on. ]

Anders | June 4th and 5th | the streets, Thistle Do Nicely, Glug Glug's | Open

[thatelectricitything]

June 4th
A couple days in, Anders remembers his job. Or...he thinks he does? He still isn't sure what to feel certain of, here. Aside from his cat, of course. Ser Pounce a Lot is perfect and absolutely the one excellent certainty in his life. Therefore, he brings him with him, on his shoulders, the enormous ginger tabby draped casually around the back of his neck as he walks to Main Street.

He's planning out what to say, how to convince his...his boss? that his cat is an absolutely reasonable addition to the shop when he reaches Thistle Do Nicely and his planning turns out to be pointless. The door is closed and locked, the lights are off, and some of the plants in the window are drooping slightly. Odd. When he notices an envelope taped to the door, he pulls it off. No sense in hesitation when there's a mystery to solve and he's meant to be here, after all. Probably.

Definitely, it turns out. Inside the envelope are the keys and a short note letting him know he's the new owner. How does that work?! Anders unlocks the door and goes in so that he at least has a space in which to come to terms with having an entire business he's going to have to fake understanding. He lets Pounce hop down and explore while he begins to at least tidy up and water what seems to need watering.

By the time the lights are on and the place is more or less...ready, Anders is sitting on a stool behind the counter, Pounce on his lap, frowning slightly as he tries to understand the various binders of information about the business he found tucked in a drawer and occasionally reading various plant guidelines aloud incredulously to Pounce. God, he hopes more of it will come back from just hanging out in here. It's a good job he's in charge now, though. This way, if he finds out later in a binder there's a dress code he can make the executive decision to overrule it. They can pry his earring off his cold dead ear. Or not, really, he'd probably just let 'them' take it, if it came to that. Steal it back later.


June 5th
Theoretically, Anders is sure he must have had hot chocolate before, boozy and otherwise. It doesn't seem to be something rare, or out of the ordinary, but he is definitely experiencing it as if it's the first time he's had anything like it. Which, really, he's all about. If he can take advantage of this weird memory loss to experience more amazing things for the first time again it will be almost entirely worthwhile.

He drifts a bit, drinking it as slowly as possible, leaned back into one of the couches on the second floor. Hopefully it's in a shop somewhere, and he can bring it to his home (another normal thing that has no right feeling so amazing to him) and have this whenever he wants.

It has gotten a bit cold now, though, from how slow he's been drinking it. Lukewarm. Too comfortable to get up, he settles on the obvious solution: a controlled fireball.

Definitely the best idea, and not one that immediately backfires on him, almost quite literally.

His fingers spark, a small orange flame shoots down from his hand and into the cup, the force displacing half a cup of hot chocolate up into the air and onto his sweater and face.

"Ah," he says to himself after a short moment of shock, dripping. "Not brilliant, in retrospect."

June 4th

[girlexmachina]

Healing herbs. Aloys remembers healing herbs, how to look for them, how to pick them, how to use them. She remembers other things, too. This particular shop has been... well, empty and dark, but when she's coming from her own work at the butcher's she sees the shop is open.

And maybe it's just the decorative sort of flowers. And maybe it isn't.

She lets herself in, frowning a little as she comes inside. There's something far more mystical going on here than she expected, and it's not exactly what she expected. She doesn't think she likes it, either.

raven reyes | 3rd | hospital | ota!

[regulatingpressure]

❰ raven doesn't remember much.

they told her that was pretty normal. that she's been in an accident, and it might take a bit for her memories to sort themselves out. 'an accident?' she said. 'is that what you call getting shot?' she doesn't remember much of that first conversation, but she remembers that.

it's been at least 24 hours now, since she first woke up in - shit, 'the hospital'. that's what they called it. why does she keep thinking 'medical'? either way, it's been over a day and she apparently gets her ass chewed out by nurses every time she so much as sets her feet on the floor. raven doesn't get it. seems like everyone else gets to get up and walk right out the front door, but here they are, telling her that her ~wounds are too severe~. that they finally got a message through for some 'crowe' to come collect her, and raven needs to sit here and wait for whoever it is to show up.

she doesn't even know a crowe. not a great argument when you don't exactly know anyone, but that doesn't make this any less bullshit.

and she's pretty much done with it.

the next time someone passes the open door to her room, she calls: ❱ Hey - ❰ in hopes of catching them before they pass on by. ❱

and then there is Crowe.

[allfornothing]

[ Crowe had been here on the first day, but she couldn't stay, and then she missed Raven waking up by a lot. A full day, it seems.

But she's back in the hospital and the nurses smile at her and tell her that her girl is up, she doesn't remember much but don't you worry about that, it will pass, and Crowe was here only last month, anyway, she knows exactly what they mean.

(The memories this place provides come later. That's okay.)

And there she is. Awake, dark eyes full of fire, even if she still doesn't look too good, not like she should. Crowe stands at the door, drinking in the sight of her, but, no, not a hint of recognition. (The part of her which keeps sight of how this place is is glad. Another part... another part is deeply, deeply upset about that. Her Raven. She should know her. She should smile when she sees her--

No, stop that.) ]

Hey. Head still fuzzy? -- sorry. That's not the right question. [ Except where it is, for an entirely different reason. ] Does it hurt?

Carl Grimes | June 5 | Glug-Glug

[futureserialkiller]

Carl is awkward around parties. This shouldn't be surprising - Carl found himself uncomfortable around the parties the school will hand out around the end of school.

Drinking his Kool-Aid, Carl meanders around, taking in the sights. He's not sure what to do - he more or less suck at making conversations, and even then, he's a little embarrassed at the interests he does take on. Normal kids shouldn't talk about rifles or comic books - well, maybe the latter is okay, but the comic books here are kind of weird. Really old-timey. He expected something more recent.

Anyway.


Carl attempted his try at darts (he failed), billiards (also a failure), and just about anything that requires aim is just overall failure. So he does Junga instead.

Later on he is on one of the sofa, idly eating various cheeses and pork he got out of the serving table, drinking ginger ale. He looks bored, but that's his one eye giving that impression. He's paying as much attention as he can, for he still doesn't trust this place. Which is why he accidentally gives someone an extra intense stare.

Oops.