ercookies | TDM 004: WASHED ASHORE

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TDM 004: WASHED ASHORE

Arrival

This time, you come out of the water. While the Augur reboots, the Nameless Island's own inherent energy draws people in. It's like being suspended between realities and walking through a rift in dimensions. It may make you sick, or that might be the motion of the ocean, lifting you and carrying you to shore.

Waterlogged and covered in sand, new arrivals will be greeted by robots who welcome them with towels and bracelet devices. The A5 card is already loaded up. Inventory will be found a day later, wrapped up haphazardly and delivered to each person's makeshift home.

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I. Feel the friendship!

Recent arrivals and visitors to the beach may notice a sudden influx of hundreds of bright red crustaceans crawling (and coupling) across the sand. It's crab mating season, as it turns out, it's a regular invasion! To keep the beach a pleasant place to gather for the island's inhabitants, the robots are offering credits to especially enterprising crab-catchers. Grab a bucket and get to work! Be sure to watch out for their pinch, mind you. Their little claws are tiny, but that doesn’t mean they don’t hurt.

Surprisingly, there is another effect that even the robots don't anticipate: islanders who are pinched by the crabs find themselves feeling instantly buddy-buddy with the next person they spot. Did you just become best friends?! Get pinched one too many times, however, and those feelings may sour into a crabby mood, indeed.

If you are feeling particularly vengeful (or just hungry), the little crabs do make for delicious gumbo. Once cooked, they have no side effects whatsoever.

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II. Phallus Phestival

Although the Augur is offline and supplies are scarce, the robots of Erku are still eager to make their run-down little island a welcoming place for the new arrivals. To that end, they have arranged a three day festival to boost morale and promote the generation of plenty of Eros energy to assist in the restoration of the damaged and decayed parts of the city. The robots claim that this celebration was once a cornerstone of the long-lost civilization of the island. By the dawn of the first day, every island resident will find at their doorstep (or tent flap, mobile suit, etc) the traditional costume of the ancient islanders to wear to the festival. It appears to be... a giant sheet? There doesn’t seem to be any rhyme or reason to the sometimes garish colors and patterns of the fabric, but at least the robots have uploaded instructions on how to wear it to your bracelet device.

Attendees will find food (mostly crab-flavored), confections, and household necessities in rather suggestive shapes, as well as goods you might find handy to complete your A5 squares: sex toys, pervertibles, sexy maid outfits, and the like. While islanders are welcome to set up shop on the festival grounds and sell (or charge) whatever they like, all items from the robots are offered up for free to those who wear their traditional island garb!

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III. Fireside Adventures

Each night of the festival is wrapped up in style with an enormous bonfire on the beach, where drinks, fruity cocktails, and lively music appropriate for dancing is all provided at no cost by the robots. Even if you’re not usually much of a dancer, the longer you stand by the fire and allow it to warm your limbs, the more you feel like moving! Not only that, but everyone is looking quite beautiful by the firelight, are they not?

If you’ve grown tired - or if dancing just isn’t your thing - you might prefer to sit back and swap stories on one of the many driftwood log benches the robots have prepared for seating. Or, maybe you’d prefer to rough it for the night in one of the beachside canvas tents. Better claim one quick, though, or be prepared to share… there’s only one sleeping bag!

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N A V I G A T I O N

Threaded | Top-Level Comments Only

I. FEEL THE FRIENDSHIP

Oh, I don't...

[ There's a queasy sort of feeling, seeing all the crabs scattered across the beach--red and creepy crawly, with all those legs, reminds her too much of those pesky little ants she hates so much, enough that her nose scrunches, dancing back a step, and then another, like she might just clear herself a space on the beach where the crabs can move around her, and that will be enough.

Still, there's something called credits in this world that she apparently can use for all sorts of things (or maybe it's just that the robots hadn't quite finished explaining before she had chirped a got it! and ran off) and with her trusty pink bucket, surely it will be as easy as scooping them up and letting them pinch each other once inside? Wrong--one of the little demons chomps down on her finger as she's shaking it into the bucket, and her good mood immediately sours, a shriek of anger as she turns, plaintively, and holds out her hand--]

Did you see what that thing did? Kiss it better.

II. PHALLUS PHESTIVAL

[ She's so used to wrapping herself up in the sheets of her victims that it doesn't take much to get her stylishly tucked into the clean, polka-dotted fabric that comes to where she ends up sleeping, belted with the red ribbon from her dress to at least give a hint to her slender waist, or maybe it's just that it needs that splash of color to make her more excited about the whole thing.

She's got a purple penis lollipop in her mouth, plucked from one of the helpful little robot guys at one of the stalls--they're just so nice here--and she's perusing some of the other goods when she sees someone struggling to make sense at a table full of perverted toys and accessories. Blonde curls bouncing, she tilts her head and offers, with a bright smile--]

Oh, I love that one! Want me to show you how it works?

III. FIRESIDE ADVENTURES

Sorry, spoken for!

[ The sound comes from somewhere within the shadows of the tent--where she's already managed to snuggle herself into the sleeping bag, sleep-weary eyes rubbed over with her fingertips until she can squint at where the tent gaps open. She supposes it's not the worst idea, to have a bit of company; she hasn't had much luck making friends here, and her powers seem woefully absent, enough that it's impossible to warp back or even talk to anyone. Her cellphone doesn't work. And where is Vincent?

So she sits up, bare shoulders that give way to the strapless pink bra she has on--that pesky sheet-dress would just be too hard to sleep in, and too warm even out on here on the beach. Her smile is as wide as it is comforted, a flick of lashes as she pretends to size up her new companion, and then stretches out an arm to beckon them in with the curve of one finger.]

On second thought, I don't mind sharing if it's with you.

WILDCARD.

( tl;dr catherine is a succubus who likes to kill cheating men with nightmares.... however her powers are totally nerfed here, she's just harmlessly horny. so everything is open! m/f or f/f, she's physically 22 but age isn't really an issue. feel free to pm if you'd like to discuss! ♥ )

[ I - CRAB BATTLE ]

[ Well, Sun Ce can't say he's ever gone hunting for crabs before. Deer, fowl, fish, even tigers and wolves when they've threatened villages... but crabs? That's a new one. And those two arm-length, stone tonfas that he's carrying really seem like overkill since the crabs were requested to be in one piece.

He's doing things the hard way, then, grabbing them with his bare hands and tossing them into the bucket. He's trying to go for the bigger ones and leaving the smaller ones alone, a strategy that has definitely netted him fewer credits but has helped him feel a little better about himself.

He grabs one of them from behind and picks it up, getting ready to put it in his bucket with a dissatisfied look on his face. ]

Look, sorry. But people have to eat, and apparently, you're delicious. Come on, let's go.

[ Just as he's about to set the crab down, it manages to get a pincer around his finger, causing the broad, young man to instinctively flip it into the air. ]

Ow! [ Shaking his hand off, Sun Ce watches as the crab scuttles away and almost immediately starts coupling with another crab nearby. ] Alright, guess you earned that one. I'd be doing the same thing if I were you.

[ Noticing that someone else is watching, he turns and gives them a friendly, "totally didn't just got pinched in the thumb" smile. It doesn't quite reach his eyes. ]

So, what about you? Having any luck?

[ II - PHALLUS FESTIVAL ]

[ Look, Sun Ce knows exactly what each of these foods are shaped like. One of the robots has even given him a giant confectionery dong on a stick made of some sort of hardened candy, complete with realistic drizzle. He's been carrying the damned thing around ever since, causing it start to droop in the heat. He really doesn't want it to go to waste, but sweets aren't really his thing.

And neither are dongs.

At least the toga looks pretty good on him, though. If one looks closely enough, they'll see tiny nicks and scars along his chest and shoulders indicative of a well-seasoned warrior. Too bad he's stuck there holding a big candy boner, trying to pawn it off on the first person he sees. ]

Hey, uh, do you want this? I'm not really hungry.

[ Please, please take it. ]

[ WILDCARD - MAKE YOUR OWN ]

[ Not feeling these prompts but want to try something else? Feel free to make something up, or hit me up on discord (Bofu#7313) to plot out something different. ]

>>1. ARRIVAL

1.a Stranded (Day 1)

[ Garma is wet and that is about the last thing he expected after going out in a literal blaze of glory. He is wet and he is full of sand and he feels very very sick and-- it's bad. Arguably, it is less bad than being dead, but Garma is not in the mood to appreciate the little things. Or appreciate anything, really. He grabs the towel off a friendly robot rather roughly and barely listens to their explanations before removing himself from the situation to... petulantly sit in the sand, a little way off. He may or may not have just died, but he's choosing to not process this for the time being. What concerns him immediately is that his hair is disgusting and he's going to be spending the next while drying it off, getting the sand out, and combing through it with his fingers until it's halfway decent. It calms him to focus on this. As long as he only keeps his mind on this single tangible problem, he can manage not to freak out. As long as his hands are moving, he's fine. It's too bad that his fingers are shaking so hard...]

1.b Delivery (Day 2)

[ If you come to the beach today, you will be greeted with a very special sight. There is a framed funeral portrait in the sand. Sad, you might think, ordinarily. Ordinarily. In this case, you might be more likely to think 'what the fuck', because said portrait? It's roughly 10m tall. It's propped up slightly because it's upper end is leaning on an elegant black coffin.

And standing in front of it is the person this whole set-up is for, Garma Zabi, looking like he's about to start hyperventilating. He's keeping it together. Barely. ]

>>2. FEEL THE CRABS (FRIENDSHIP)

[ Garma has never had to work for his money a day in his life. Sure, he has a job as a soldier, but his paycheck has never been of any interest. A Zabi scion gets what he wants. Money is never an object. Except he appears to be dead and in hell(??) and fate has not deemed it appropriate to send a credit card along for him. And thus... work. It's something to do. Garma has decided that keeping busy is about the only way he can hope to stay sane right now.

But crabs really are nasty little fellows and he cannot quite bring himself to actually touch them. So come find him poking at the crabs with his boots, hoping to nudge them into the direction of the bucket he placed on the ground... ]

>>3. PHALLUS FESTIVAL

[ Garma is not debasing himself by wearing that toga, he's just not. But he still needs supplies and has earned at least some credits from the crab disaster, so... it is time for window shopping, first.

Except it's not really window-shopping because Garma is making walking around the festival an exercise in how to pointedly not look at any display - he's just getting quick accidental glances! He is not actually examining this, okay?! Okay!! And yet his face is still bright red... ]

— i. feeling crabby

[ Abel didn’t need any outside influences to be moody upon his arrival, disoriented and a little afraid, with a recent hurt keeping his heart heavy. Since settling in and drying off a little, he’s taken to sitting in the sand with his arms wrapped around his knees and gaze off into the horizon, determined to brood until the end of days, or at least until hunger pangs force him to move.

This leaves him susceptible to the little guys crawling all over, which he is paying no mind to because he doesn’t understand the importance of their newness or of the credits they could earn him. Attention elsewhere, one walks straight up to him and gives Abel a sharp pinch on the soft spot on the underside of his arm. He yelps, scrambling backwards and up onto his feet, looking for the offensive pincher. ]

Seriously. A crab?

[ When he sees the one that came at him, he scoops it up along with a handful of the sand beneath it, and nearly takes the steps forward to drop it back into the water as if that were any kind of inconvenience for a crab. Instead, his attention is caught by someone with a bucket nearby, and Abel smiles, mood lifting as if he’s seeing a long lost friend instead of a total stranger. He heads over, balancing the crab in his hands, and holds it out in offering. ]

I caught one for you.

— ii. dicks galore

[ It would be a lie to say that a dick party hasn’t been part of Abel’s wildest dreams, but he never imagined it quite in this form. He donned the provided toga, lacking much else to wear anyhow, though the bright pattern of yellow and green starbursts on grey are leaving him looking a bit washed out compared to his usual pale attire.

All the better to see the flush that has donned his cheeks since the very moment he’d arrived to the festival, making his way through with a look of interest in just about everything.

He’s managed to find a stall that’s got non-crab foods, once he asked one of the robots for something that wasn’t meat. The carved green vegetable before him is as obscene as everything else around here, but at least Abel can eat it. The catch, he’s told by the robot, is that he isn’t allowed to make his selection with his hands. He glances side to side to make sure no one is watching, and leans forward to put the head of the treat into his mouth. It takes a harder suck to dislodge the stick keeping it on display than he’d expected, but when he pulls victorious he is plus one (1) edible food, and realises that apparently also has caught someones eye. ]

Oh, damn it.

[ Hope you had fun watching him deepthroat a zucchini. He’s going to cover his face with the hand not holding onto his prize. ]

Please lie and tell me you didn’t see that.

— iii. hotfoot

[ Carried along by tides of the festival, Abel made his way to the beach with many others. One drink in, having enjoyed the fruity taste more than the alcohol itself, he makes his way to the fire. He’s never been one for letting loose, often accused of being uptight, but he finds himself rocking to the music, and tempted to do more. It seems a bit silly for him to break out into a dance by himself, can’t quite get into it, so he does the next logical thing: he looks around for a partner. Going up to someone who looks open to it, or maybe picking out someone who looks sour enough that they might need cheering up, he puts himself close enough to be heard above the noise. ]

Hey. [ He nearly doesn't find the momentum to keep talking from there, hesitating but overcoming it quickly enough. ] Umm. So. ... Do you wanna dance? With me, I mean.

[ Totally nailed it. ]

(ooc; Hella open to tagging from all but Abel is 18+ m/m so those are the only smutty courses of action I will be taking at this time. Ty! )

Edited (subject line ooups) 2020-08-18 16:23 (UTC)

I. Arrival

Regis has never particularly wondered what flotsam and jetsam must endure, but he thinks he has a far better idea of it now as he finds himself washed up on an unfamiliar shore. Drowning is one of the least of his worries, but he still finds himself emptying his stomach of seawater with very little dignity.

He doesn't recall how he might have ended up in the water in the first place, as the nearest body of it had been a river, not an ocean. For a moment, Regis sits there on the sand, trying to take in his strange new surroundings. It seems almost tropical, which would suggest somewhere further south or west than he had been. It certainly doesn't resemble any shoreline he's ever seen in Toussaint.

As bewildered as he is by his predicament, Regis doesn't have it in him to ignore the suffering of others. When he hears someone nearby having a rough time of it, he stumbles over. His legs are still a bit wobbly after--whatever he'd been through.

"Are you alright?"

II. Phallus Phestival

There's something about the festival that is just delightful. Maybe it's the colors and the sheer audacity of it. Regis foregoes the traditional costume at first, hoping he won't particularly offend anyone.

Given the serious influx of crusteceans, he isn't surprised to find that the majority of the food is based on that particular resource. What really amuses him, however, is the sheer number of things made into phallic shapes. It's fascinating, and Regis browses nearly every stall and booth he can find between sampling food and drink. He's careful with what he imbibes, if only because he has no idea how the food here will agree with him.

Before the end of the day, someone has talked him into the traditional costume, though he has layered it over his tunic. He's grateful for the relatively tame color of the fabric, as standing out is rarely ever his desire. At some point he pauses to adjust the decorative pin holding the loose ends of the toga in place.

"Excuse me, could you hold this a moment? I'm finding this may take three hands."

III. Fireside Adventures

The bonfire draws him and before long Regis finds himself sinking down to sit on the warm sand, a drink in hand as he rests his back against one of the driftwood benches. It occurs to him that he should claim somewhere to sleep, though, honestly, if he ends up spending a night beneath the sky, he won't be disappointed. It is shaping up to be a beautiful night.

"I don't suppose this place is prone to sudden turns of weather," he phrases it almost like a question for those gathered nearby. "Should I be making more of an effort to find somewhere to shelter for the night?"

IV. Wildcard

[OOC: For those who might be aware of these things via scent, Regis is a vampire. He is undetectable by magical means, but a good nose or an observant pair of eyes might find something off. He doesn't cast a shadow and typically carries around strong herbs to mask his scent. Find Regis anywhere on the beach or at the festival! Feel free to surprise me, PM if you have any questions!]

Edited 2020-08-18 17:27 (UTC)

After a few months here, Geralt has had plenty of time to think over his brief and unexpected encounter with Regis in Toussaint, and the relief and joy he'd felt upon finding his old friend very much alive, as though by some miracle. But of course the cause is not miraculous, as Regis had been able to explain, but another higher vampire. The very one he'd been hired to hunt.

Seeing Regis turn up where he least expects him yet again instantly brings those emotions to the fore once more. They'd had very little time to catch up before Geralt was whisked away here, and he's regretted that deeply. At least this circumstance isn't as pressing. The familiar scent of herbs is strong even from a distance of several booths. For a moment Geralt watches Regis wrap the dark cloth around his deceptively thin frame with a combined sort of amusement and fondness before he approaches, just in time to step up in response to his request.

"Sure. Got a fourth if you need it," he offers. His lips curl up at the corners, though the smile is most obvious in his eyes, and in the warmth that can be heard in the low rumble of his voice.

As asked, Geralt puts a hand on Regis's shoulder to hold the loose end of the fabric in place to be pinned.

"You look a lot less ridiculous in this than everyone else," he notes wryly. Geralt himself has resisted all efforts to get him into a toga, wearing instead a pair of simple breeches and a linen shirt along with boots that are proving to be a little too heavy for the beach.

Regis doesn't bother to hide his delight at the sound of a very familiar voice. His dark eyes are bright as Geralt approaches to dutifully hold the loose end in place. Nimble fingers are quick to secure the pin back in place, this time with a better grip on the fabric. He lets his hand brush Geralt's before withdrawing it.

"I look like a statesman in the heart of Nilfgaard," he insists. Dignified, perhaps, but feeling no less out of place. "It seemed easier to go along with it after the third or fourth time someone remarked about my utter lack of festive spirit. Far be it from me to deny the local customs."

His expression softens and he reaches up again to squeeze Geralt's shoulder. The matter of Detlaff had curtailed any real catching up, which he regrets. It's easy to think that one might have time later, when Regis knows better than most how untrue that can be. Time is hardly a guarantee, even for someone who has lived as long as he has.

"My dear friend, where have we found ourselves this time?"

_{[ He is taken from a few episodes into season 2, just FYI! ]}

— i. arrival
_{[ Being somewhere and then suddenly being somewhere else seems to be an ongoing scenario for Klaus. He seems a little frustrated as he walks along the beach after being shown hospitality from these robots, which wasn’t the strangest thing to happen in his life. At least he wasn’t plucked from somewhere and dropped into a war like what had happened in the past. He hadn’t even looked at the bracelet he was given, but he wore it.

He noticed a lack of his power but only cause he hadn’t had the lingering specter of his sibling harass him yet. That was certainly odd since Ben seemed to follow him everywhere like a piece of tacky gum on his shoe.

Anyhow, he finally stops and just calls out their names towards the rough looking sea. ]}

Five! Luther! Allison! Antonio Banderas! ... Anybody.. ? Nooooo? God, here we go again I guess. Jesus.

— ii. so many dicks.
_{[ By now, he had gotten rather comfortable with this place. None of his wacko followers were here to harass him, there was no impending apocalypse, so maybe this wasn’t so bad. Klaus was a pro at putting on a toga, so he was rather thrilled to be given one to wear for the festivities.

The festivities, right. He had found himself at a stand with a large variety of dildos. All shapes and colors. He looks like a kid in a candy store, hands on his face and eyes wide. ]}

Ohhhhh my God, I haven’t seen so many dicks all at once in my entire life.

Wait.. wait. Yes I have, yeeees a have. Haha, wooooow. That was a good time, a very good time, actually. Yeah.

_{[ Turning to whatever unfortunate soul is next to him, he speaks: ]}

I just don’t know. Hey, why don’t you pick out one for me, alright?

— iii. open
_{[ feel free to give me your own scenario or pp me for plotting! justaways ]}

No.

[Jingyi can't help but look a little frazzled at the thought of possibly eating one of those candied dongs. While he's no stranger to such lewd acts, Jingyi looks positively mortified to be here. The festival caught his attention when the robots left him a colorful red toga to wear for tonight's festivities. However, he wouldn't have gone if he had known everything was going to be phallic themed but it's a little too late for regrets.]

No, I don't want that---

[He trails off once he feels something cold touch his hand. It's a robot, one of the Augur's many droids offering him the same boner shaped candy he's adamantly refusing. Jingyi stares at this atrocity with a look of pure dismay before giving the unfortunate gentleman beside him a glance.]

Why can't we have a normal lantern festival and not---[He gestures his hand awkwardly at the phallic-shaped candy.] This?

II- Phallus Festival

[After washing up ashore smelling of very wet dog and getting sand in his boxers, Sirius had started off in a sour mood about this place. It's turning around rather quickly because of the festival, though.

In fact, he's almost as enthusiastic about all of this as the robots are. Hearty, barking laughter announces his arrival at each new booth full of goodies.]

Would you look at that! Shameless!

[He gestures at a bin full of dildos, grinning from ear-to-ear. He takes one with a gracious grin, and subtly slips his wand out (where was he keeping it?) and taps the toy with a whisper.

He looks around the crowd for a moment and approaches his chosen victim with an appeasing smile and unassuming posture.]

Hullo there, can you hold this for me for a second?

III- Fireside

[Nothing like a good fire to warm the body and enchant the mind! Sirius himself seems rather taken with the flames, watching them dance and flicker. He's nursing some ridiculously colored drink that he seems to sip absent-mindedly, and his leg bounces a bit to the beat. Perhaps the excitement of the day has tired his mischievous ways out.

His eyes sweep away from the fire to watch the people sitting and dancing around it, contemplative at first. When he catches someone's eye in the middle of sipping his drink, he winks and licks colorful booze from his lips.

Then again maybe he isn't tired out at all.]

For real dude?

[ Elle's got a bucket and a pair of tongs. You know, so you don't have to try and touch crabs with your bare skin.

Also hey doesn't this guy look familiar? ]

⊵ FRIENDSHIP CRABS

[ The sea is supposed to be lovely, Trevor knows this because he’s heard the tales. Heard about the white sand beaches and the water that’s crystalline clear. But that’s all the knowledge he has, because in his travels he never once made it to the sea. Monsters naturally fear a salty brine so they stay far away from the coast and so no Belmont has ever needed to travel to the East of Wallachia. And as Trevor stands, boots digging into the beach, he can’t help but think that the abominations against God were on to something.

There’s sand everywhere. Matted in his hair, sitting gritty on his tongue (no matter how much he spits), down his pants, in his boots. His nostrils and throat are burning from the salt water and there’s a smell too, he can’t be sure if it’s him or just the natural rank of the ocean, but he knows somehow it will be blamed on him. Somehow.

Yes, whoever came up with glorifying tales of the sea deserved to be sucker punched a few times.

And this is where Trevor finds himself; pissed off, disgusting, and very hungry. The first person who suggests he catches himself a meal will be listened to and he stalks over to miles of tiny crabs and eyes them with distaste. ]

You’ve got to be joking. There is no bloody meat on that.

[ Trevor crouches all the same and goes to pick one up, only to have one finger caught between tiny pincers. A hearty swear and an even heartier shake, Trevor accidentally sends the crab flying back into the ocean with a small plop. It’s quite indisputably, a spectacular fail. ]

... Christ.

[ Hopefully no one saw it. ]

⊵ PHALLUS FEST

[ There’s a giant sheet (patterned blue with hot pink stripes) hanging over Trevor’s shoulders like an overbearing cloak. Judging by the conspicuous lack of a device strapped to his wrist, Trevor did not review the instructions on how to wear the garment properly, instead using it like a large shield between him and the rest of the craziness of the surrounding world. There’s sand still matted in his hair from the day before and he looks every bit the part of someone who has been woefully thrown into an environment that they do not understand or care to.

He’s somehow managed to get his hands on a dick shaped confectionary and he’s turning it this way and that with the distinct look of trying to decide what his first question should be. ]

Is this supposed to be directions or a fucking enticement? I really can’t tell.

⊵ FIRESIDE

[ Spread out under Trevor is the toga from earlier that day, and it looks like he has every intention of using it to sleep on (and keeping a comfortable barrier between him and more goddamn sand). The fire is familiar and welcome enough that he’ll even put up with the strangers sitting around it. He soberly watches people twirl and dance a distance away before finally tuning in to the stories being passed around his campfire. The current tale is being wound up and there’s a polite clapping (that Trevor does not participate in). The speaker notices and jerks their chin in his direction. "You want to tell one next?’" Trevor makes a face at that. ]

No, but they do.

[ He jabs his thumbs at the person sitting next to him, hoping to pass the hot seat off on to this unfortunate. ]

( 19+ m/f or m/m for smut is welcome! Wildcard him too if you'd like. )

[ A few days had passed since their temporal Kumbaya circle with Five so Ben is going to blame his spontaneous displacement on the usual culprit: Klaus. To his recollection, Klaus didn't black out recently -- and good for him! except he used all that sobriety to start a cult which is sort of zero sum game, karmically -- but it's just like him to throw himself into the ocean out of despair or inebriation or boredom.

That said, Ben ain't pressed. He'll take the ocean over Texas. Which is almost why he doubts this is Klaus's fault. In what world does his brother actually go where he wants to go?

Well, criss-crossing logic be damned, it seems to be this one. Not far from where he's washed up, Klaus is screaming at the sea. That puts a definitive end to Ben's chill hang sesh by himself, watching the waves roll, imagining he could feel the breeze. ]

You forgot Vanya.

[In his defense, his confusion doesn't stem so much from what the object he's looking at is for but more from how to make it do that. While some of the things here are a level of tech that borders on magic, some of it still doesn't make sense to this wizard.

He turns to Catherine with a smile and a hand pressed over his heart.]

Please, sweet lady, be gentle with me!

[The glint in his eyes betrays just how gentle she really needs to be.]

Geralt remains quiet as Regis talks, more than willing to listen to any long-winded explanation so long as it means hearing more of the familiar and distinctive lilt of his voice. It's one he thought he'd never hear again until quite recently, so as far as he's concerned, Regis can talk all he likes. Not that anyone was ever really capable of stopping him from doing just that, anyway.

A hand on his shoulder is fine, but after the welcome surprise of seeing him so unexpectedly twice in a row, Geralt is compelled to embrace him instead, which he does with an arm across his shoulders and the other curling around his back. It's a short but tight squeeze, which he releases Regis from with a slow exhale.

"Been here a few months already and it's still a mystery." He stands back far enough to look at the vampire properly. "Could give you the run down of what I know, though."

Maybe it's a little bit of both?

[That's one hell of a cloak, buddy. Angeal can barely keep a straight face once he sees this ornery sod. Much like him, Angeal forsook the toga for the sake of more practical clothing mostly consisting of a black leather jacket, pair of jeans, and a simple shirt. Just the idea of parading around the festival in just a funky looking bathrobe didn't sit well with him, especially since tentacle monsters are a thing.

Thankfully, neither of them need to worry about that right now but Angeal still brought his gigantic sword with him just in case. Never let your guard down, that's the pivotal rule to survival.]

I'm guessing you're new around here.

[It's easy to draw that conclusion since mostly everyone who's been here for the last two months still wears their bracelets everywhere. So, it's pretty much a dead giveaway.]

Usually, it's a little less festive than this.

[Impressive. Either this guy really likes vegetables, or he's trying to show off. Sirius is stopped in his tracks, and starts to slowly clap for Abel. He does stop up short when he sees how embarrassed the poor guy is.]

Well, if you insist. I saw nothing but your adorable blushing face.

[ Siegfried is less enthused about all of the phallic objects around them, but he's hardly fazed, either. Things like this are to be expected of this world, apparently, given its hyperfocus on sex. He's at least decided to go along with the attire he'd been given, not quite sure that the extremely colorful fabric suits him at all (it's tie-dye. it's a tie-dyed toga).

Well, at least someone seems to enjoy the theme of this festival. Siegfried is past the point of judgment, not quite acclimated to Erku, but given his own behavior lately, he had no reason to judge, anyway.

His brow furrows as he's addressed, because despite being a bit more open about these sorts of things, Siegfried isn't a great person to ask for recommendations. ]

Wouldn't you like to pick one suited to your taste? Well, I suppose I can give it a shot.

You seem like someone who'd be into novelty. [ That's putting it politely, since he said he's seen so many dicks before.

He looks towards the stall nearest to them, reaching out to pick up something that is clearly, clearly just meant to be a gag gift. Nobody would actually use this, right? right??? ]

This one is extremely novel.

[ it starts off smooth sailing.

get the crabs, put them in the bucket, net yourself some points. easy enough. while his more superhuman abilities have been rendered to nothing, the reflexes are still there; so with the curl of his soles, he scoops a few crabs up with his feet in a fluid motion. starts himself a rhythm and goes at it a tad too intently, even.

until the crabs grow more diligent, deftly escaping his clutches, and he grows more irritable in turn.

so before he can even register it, raiden is now vigorously stomping at the crabs in question with his high heels. right. ]

Maybe, [ he grits out. ] if you had just...made this easier for me...goddamn...!

[ a shell crackles in between his taloned fingertips. and at long last, his eyes catch yours. ]

Oh. [ and for some reason, his voice is at an almost unnaturally gravel-like pitch. ] Hey.

ii.

[ he's come to a conclusion: this place is a bit of a freakshow. nothing really new in that department, but he can't say he's ever seen sexuality actively celebrated.

he doesn't bother with the toga, but the foodie in him can't turn down a good offer. penis shaped or not, does it really matter — there's a massive lollipop wedged in between his fingers. it's shaped like everything else is. he sniffs it a bit gingerly, just for any traces of poison.

and then he bites down harshly, swallowing it in one gulp. the crunch is audible too, if not a little savage in nature. ]

Eugh. [ his eyes flicker up. ] ...Tastes like high fructose syrup with a hint of cherry. I'll pass. How are people this crazy about rock candy, anyways?

[ well, might as well go for the nearest krab-dog. raiden offers the vendor a polite nod of the head and an earnest "thanks". ]

Want one? [ a hand gestures one towards you. it's shaped like a dick, yet again. ] I got extra.

iii.

[ raiden eventually resigns and wears the toga he's offered. it's wound over his shoulder, ill fitting for his form. needless to say, it isn't exactly a surprise that it tears later.

fortunately for him, there are a handful of maid dresses on sale. and he has the pleasure of being pawned one for free. the conversation is a relic of the past by now, but they'd mentioned something about how he was an ideal model for it.

in his hands is another maid dress. it's been folded very neatly. he sees you, and his eyes narrow with scrutiny. ]

They're looking for someone else to model this with me. [ a beat. ] You get free stuff if you do.

iv.

[ there is no dancing. no drinking. he instead opts to head straight to his tent and sit up against the fold, back straight, hands folded over his abdomen. the sleeping bag's been set aside for whoever has the misfortune of being here. ]

It's all yours. [ had you not known any better, you'd think his tone was leisurely there. ] I'm not goin' to bed. Listen, I know we're stuck here in Sexlandia and everything is fine and great and potentially sexy depending on whatever you're doing — but I can't say that I trust any of you to not try to kill me in my sleep. Just putting that out there. So thanks and sweet dreams.

wildcard.

[ feel free to hit me with anything else! raiden's in his late 30s and looks like this. i'm open to m/f and m/m but let's be real none of these prompts are remotely sexy anyways. ]

[ It’s not lost on Trevor that he is in fact, looking kind of like a hot mess right now. But there’s enough of a shadow of the Old Trevor Belmont still lingering in him that current Trevor really can’t be arsed to clean himself up a bit more. So, he stands there with a phallus-pop and a burgeoning grudge that this guy somehow has managed to get himself a sword.

He needs a drink or ten. ]

Oh really? And what does ‘less festive’ look like? A bleak wasteland where all the meat is in even tinier form?

[ He’s got some stuff to air out about these crabs. ]

Edited 2020-08-18 19:36 (UTC)

He returns the tight embrace, fingers curling gently in Geralt's linen shirt to keep him from pulling away too quickly. As they part again, Regis offers a small smile and pats Geralt's shoulder.

"And yet it has not been that long since I last saw you. Strange."

Does time pass differently between here and the world they came from? Is it truly another world? It must be. He knows the possibility exists, naturally, though he doubts a full Conjunction happened without his noticing.

"I would like to hear," he admits, gesturing for them to go anywhere other than standing in the general flow of foot traffic.

[ He probably does look very familiar - if it's not the widely televised funeral, he's still wearing a Zeon military uniform...

And he's staring at these tongs with distress. ]

Where does one receive those?

[ Elle was six when that happened, so the Zeon uniform stands out. It's also an older uniform, so he could just be some former soldier, or a wannabe, or who else knows? But that's someone else from the same world.

Someone else with people hair. Another prettyboy with purple... hair. Is he related to Angelo? ]

I found 'em.

[ the bearded man with crude and sparkly sunglasses on has his arms folded. his expression is nigh unreadable, even as he lowers them to look raiden up and down, then back at the krab-dog. ]

No.

[ solid snake's trademark smoke-laced tone drawls low and suspicious, mildly judging. ] Thought they taught you to not take candy from strangers in training. Well, there's your first lesson.

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TDM 004: WASHED ASHORE

QUESTIONS

catherine | catherine: full body

sun ce | dynasty warriors

Garma Zabi | Mobile Suit Gundam

Abel || Starfighter

Emiel Regis Rohellec Terzieff-Godefroy | The Witcher

i feel blessed. this is a ii.

no subject

Klaus Hargreeves | The Umbrella Academy

II.

sirius black | wizard people, dear reader

2

trevor belmont ⚔️ castlevania

i

II

no subject

Phallus Fest

II

ii

raiden | metal gear

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

ii