TDM 002

[erkumods]

TDM 002: IF FOUND PLEASE RETURN TO

( 1 ) Around mid-morning, a message from the Augur appears on bracelets all across the city. "New organisms discovered. Domestication in progress." The wark of a chocobo rises up from the outskirts of the city. Several more join in, forming a charming chorus. And, strangely, this is when new arrivals begin to show up. Beamed in one at a time, scanned en masse, they are processed just as the first wave was. There's one major difference: whereas the old guard was given their bracelets and ushered into the City, the new folks are also given... collars. Buckled, snapped, or otherwise fastened around their necks, a variety of colorful collars with some rather unusual novelty pet tags. (These are just a few suggestions. The typical “If found, please return to ____” is also very much acceptable.) "You are new organisms. Domestication in progress. Compatible Eros energy will complete domestication." No matter how hard they try, characters cannot take the collars off by themselves. They need a partner's help - but not just anyone will do. It very well might be the first person they find, or it might take several tries. The robots grow bolder as the day grows on, targeting characters who aren't new, as well. "Y̶o̶u̴ ̸a̷r̸e̷ ̵o̵r̵g̶a̴n̷i̷s̶m̸s̶.̶ ̶D̷o̶m̴e̴s̶t̶i̶c̵a̸t̶i̸o̴n̸ ̷i̵n̸ ̴p̸r̶o̵g̷r̵e̷s̵s̷." Their antics die down by nightfall, but for the next day or two, the occasional malfunctioning 'bot may accost someone in the street, so stay on your toes! ( 2 ) An abandoned racetrack lights up the night. That's right: place your bets, folks, because these birds are about to run around a track while robots sell synthetic, overpriced aphro-popcorn. ...Did you say priced? That’s right! If you participated in the orgy earlier this month, you'll find you have a stash of credits accessible in your app. You've fucked money back into the world, so why not waste it? (Opportunities to earn credits will come up periodically and won't always be sexual in nature, so don't worry if your character wouldn't have any yet.) And if you don't have credits to bet with, why not get creative? ● ● ● ● ● ● ● ● ● N A V I G A T I O N

Comments

Bucky Barnes | MCU

[freightcars]

S&M

[ It's not the bracelet he takes issue with. It's barely the getting beamed to an island despite not having signed up for the cruise. It's the collar, which he notices about four seconds after his eyes skirt the people and terrain around him.

Not that he can tell, but it's blue. Worn leather looking. There's a little silver tag hanging off that he has no idea reads bucky bones on one side. He does know that wrapping metal fingers around it and yanking, squeezing, otherwise twisting does not accomplish a single damn thing.

There's a less than subtle pissed off aura hanging around his eyes, his down-turned mouth. It probably paints an intimidating picture to the person he grabs firmly around the back of their shoulder. Gently (as gentle as metal hands and super soldier strength can be in times of duress) wheels them around so he can stop biting the inside of his cheek long enough to ask: ]

Can you get this thing off my god damn neck?

choke-o-robo

[ The first time he's beeped at, he manages to shrug it off with a flat expression and a nice long wide stride away. The second time's less friendly, with a dark mutter under his breath and a stare that any human would read as fuck immediately off. It's the third time that he snaps, not with a shout or a bang but with one hand flying out whip-crack quick to snatch the robot by whatever looks most like its head and smash it swiftly into the nearest hard surface.

That's it, just one blow and done. It feels... so good. Christ, it really does feel satisfying.

Until two more wheel in like little police cars to avenge their fallen brother, and he sighs. ]

Ah, hell.

[ Tonelessly, and with Great Amounts of Resignation. ]

big bird

[ He's not much of a gambler. He's not in the mood for sports. He's definitely not interested in racing or riding or anything of the sort, and so while people may be cheering or betting? Your boy Barnes is standing off to the sidelines, hands in his pockets, wry and irreverent. ]

So when do we eat 'em?

misc.

open to unique starters, throw me anything. hit me at rifting for questions or plotting.

big bird

[noncertus]

[The blond sitting one other spectator down leans forward with his elbows on the knees of his baggy, rugged pants to get a look at the guy who just wryly suggested eating the chocobos.

Maybe it's the utter judgment in his eyes. The greater probability is it's the implausibly large sword across his back and the supersoldier don't fuck with me muscle mass on the other guy, but the spectator between them takes one look around and goes off in search of anywhere else to be.

Cloud's expression pinches into a frown.]

They're not for eating.

[These birds just arrived and already somebody stans them.]

[freightcars]

[ Bucky is not familiar with the word trolling; he doesn't spend enough time on the internet or around the company of people who might use it. Despite that, trolling is absolutely what he's doing right now. It's dry, deadpan, a carefully masked neutral expression.

The tiniest amount of amusement somewhere in his eyes, but you'd probably have to know where to look for it. ]

Anything's for eating if you try hard enough.

[noncertus]

[If someone's famished enough to go after a chocobo, then they probably deserve what's coming to them. For one, they're fast. Why else would anyone race them? Cloud isn't... he's not the sharpest tool in the shed, alright? So it doesn't really occur to him that Bucky is pulling his leg here.]

You'd have better luck going after something slower.

[One of those chocobos manages to snag the lead, letting out a delighted Wark! that, almost immediately, is echoed in chorus by other chocobos coursing behind it. Come on, those fluffy, energetic birds are big enough to pull a cart and they're kind of cute, aren't they?]

big bird

[leatherdaddy]

[ There's not a whole lot to do around here except fight aggressive vegetation, eat aphrodisiac-laced food when it's actually available, or hunt for opportunities to tick another box off. Gladio's not a gambling man, but he hasn't realized how much he's missed his feathery friends until he's seen them craning their beaks forward as they race around the track, warking cheerfully.

And then some guy has to be that guy!! ]

Beg your pardon?

[ Heavy brows lift at the man. It's not the first time Gladio's run into someone who didn't know what a chocobo was, but old habits die hard and Gladio still can't believe that his ubiquitous riding mammal from his world is being mistaken for food. The flat, vaguely judgmental look settles on Bucky. ]

Would you eat a horse?

[ Listen, he knows about them now! Besides, chocobos have a... unique smell. It's stronger in stables where many are raised at once, and it's not exactly appetizing. And once you've been nuzzled by one, it's incredibly difficult to envision them as edible. ]

[freightcars]

[ He's definitely gotta be that guy. At least, in the sense that he has irreverent gallows humor. He doesn't actually intend on eating them, but he finds the notion hilarious and even funnier that someone takes him seriously and gets all up in arms about it.

No question, gotta keep it going.

So, instead of apology Gladio's met with a slightly incredulous: ]

What, you've never eaten horse?

[leatherdaddy]

[ It's like thinking of eating a feathery golden retriever! It's so offensive, Bucky! Enjoy all the pearl-clutching from all these chocobo stans. ]

What? No! [ He immediately thinks of Geralt's horse, Roach, and the sodden greens the witcher had dumped in front of her to chew on and -- no, that's... that's nasty. ]

What about a horse looks at all edible? [ This is rich coming from a guy who literally breaks off horns and cuts steaks off of fallen monsters, but shh. ]

I assume you know what a dog is, right? They like dogs. Big... yellow... leggy dogs. [ With feathers and very large beaks. ]

D:

[photog]

[he's just in the rafters at this point, taking a few photos of the racetrack and living with the fact that the coolest things in any universe have found a home here on the Nameless Isle, when he overhears something... sinful.

Prompto's eyes widen as he opens his mouth, eyebrows furrowing downward, as there's a lilt of actual anger forming on the features of an otherwise extremely easy going guy. mr. Barnes, a chocobo enthusiast would like a word or two with you.

these are beautiful creatures, meant to be companions!!! to humans!!! Prompto's jaw forces his mouth closed as he stares in disbelief.]

Who hurt you?

[freightcars]

[ It is. So incredibly difficult for him to keep a grin off his face. It's just the disbelief, the righteous anger, and then all punctuated by that question at the end.

He heaves out a long, slow sigh. ]

One of those burned my house down.

[ It's said in the most neutral, inscrutable tone on the planet. ]

[photog]

[for a moment, Prompto's internally going down the route of fact checking that statement. while it IS possible that other worlds might have chocobos with other distemperments, it still doesn't really check out. it's really hard, too, when the other says it so casually, so when the blond raises a finger to practically wag it at him, he's caught for a lack of words, momentarily.

congrats, his feathers have been ruffled.]

Uhm, I mean, I'm sorry you lost your house?

S S S S M M M M

[webdesigned]

Um.

( that's not an answer, Peter, try and remember some actual words. look, he's just not used to being grabbed like that, is all, he's shaking off spider senses ringing alarm bells for the sake of it. he was just wandering around, as per usual... certainly not expecting to be flagged down for such a purpose.

since, to be honest, this guy isn't even the first he's seen wandering around with a collar. he thought it was some ... robot thing, though now that he's been given a bland request to remove it he supposes it's one of those robot things, as in something they did on a whim without any sense of approval.

cool cool cool. love that for a place so many people are forcibly trapped in. anyway, )

Yeah, okay. ( he pauses, uncomfortably skeptical because That's Just How This Place Is, and adds, ) Can you... ( he spins a finger to illustrate what is apparently too difficult to turn into words. aka... turn around, pls. )

[freightcars]

[ In hindsight, he realizes a six foot tall guy made of muscle with a metal arm scowling intensely might not make for the friendliest picture. His face shifts back down into something more apologetic, something a little more neutral.

Sorry, kid. ]

Yeah.

[ Easy enough; he turns with his head dipping down a few inches, shoulders slumping to make more room. His right hand goes for his hair, absently palming it up and out of the way. ]

Thanks.

[webdesigned]

( yeah, it was a little wild. Peter isn't exactly intimidated, though, just surprised. and socially awkward. and he'd have been that last thing no matter how Bucky hailed him over for a hand.

he shakes it off okay, at least. he's exceedingly careful as he investigates the collar, forehead wrinkling in his determined concentration. the clasp doesn't seem that tricky to undo, though clearly there's some shenanigans at work here, because ... well, robot arms should probably be able to do a number on this thing.

is it rude to just ask a guy about his robot arm? asking for a friend. )

Lemme guess, some weird sex obsessed robot has something to do with this. ( it seems most problems that happen around here are because of the weird, sex obsessed robots. ) This is a new trick. I guess spiking the food and ghostwriting invasive texts wasn't enough for these guys.

nanana come on come on come on (S&M)

[revvedup]

[ max is, fortunately, wearing a jacket, which offers a barrier between any possible psychometric transference, but she still doesn't take too kindly to being grabbed by someone out of nowhere. a gloved hand lands firmly on what turns out to be a metal wrist, intent on pulling it off before she realizes that it's not organic, and her expression registers confusion before irritation as she looks back up at him, listening to his question before her eyes land on said collar.

okay, yeah, she'd want that off too. still no need to manhandle her. ]

I can give it a shot, provided you don't ever try touching me like that again.

[freightcars]

[ He looks appropriately chastised, for what it's worth. Realizes in hindsight that reaching out and clamping down on someone's probably not the best way to start off a favor. Hell, if someone did it to him there'd probably be a sprained wrist before he could think about it.

He dips his chin a little, a measured nod. A little tug on his lips up to one side. ]

Sorry. Deal.

[ No touching, please help. To make it easier, his real hand goes to his hair to push it up the back of his head and out of the way a little. ]

Thank you.

[revvedup]

[ that and the apology are evidently worth enough. the irritation dissolves into consideration as she nods. ]

No problem.

[ he moves his hair out of the way and turns to give her better access and she peers up, trying to get a better look at it's fastenings. her fingers, still gloved, run over the buckle that seems to be holding it closed. ]

I think you're gonna need to duck a little for me to reach. [ she's not short, but he stands taller enough than her that she can't quite reach it and see what she's doing. maybe she's a little overly paranoid, but she doesn't really trust this place and if he couldn't get it off himself, it's probably not gonna be as easy as it seems. ] And we might want to be somewhere where tools are accessible.

s&m

[crestsidestory]

[ By necessity Edelgard has stopped wearing her cape everywhere, stopped carrying her axe around without a reason to suspect it will be useful, but her crimson and gold dress is still proud (if not as crisp as it was when she arrived) and she puts every effort into her neatly coiled hair, the headpiece she wears still every bit a crown even if this is far from her empire.

When she first wheels around to see the man struggling with the collar around his neck, she thinks he wears a single gauntlet, a vambrace, but no. His grip says otherwise and he moves far too seamlessly.

She is quite a bit shorter than he is and initially wide-eyed in surprise, but she isn't intimidated. What's more, she understands the frustration. ]

Will you lower for me? [ A short pause. The collar does not look like it should be difficult. ] I am stronger than I look, I assure you.

[freightcars]

[ Maybe he should've clocked these details before reaching out, but it'd been sort of a... flash-irritation spur of the moment move. Now that he's looking at her, he can't help but see the bits and pieces that indicate royalty. The pride, the stance, the - well, the goddamn crown, obviously.

T'challa would've been good humored about it but made it clear it was a faux pas in that way that makes people a little ashamed of themselves. He chastises himself for it, even if she doesn't.

It's sort of that line of thinking that has him subconsciously taking a knee instead of just slumping down. ]

I don't know if has anything to do with strength.

[ He admits, peeling his hair out of the way. ]

I'm- not exactly. Normal, about that. Still wouldn't budge. Not even the damn tag.

[crestsidestory]

[ He goes down to one knee the way one of her warriors might, and she knows that there is no deference in it here but for a fraction of a moment her lips crook. With his hair away from his neck, she leans in enough to read the tag -- just in case there is useful instruction, which is absolutely too much to hope for in this place and she is learning that well -- then attempts to open the clasp. ]

It may not.

[ A somewhat reluctant admission. She has been here long enough that she can form one theory about this, but she will certainly not mention it before trying force. And the dagger tucked in her boot. ]

But perhaps if we are both a bit abnormal we can achieve something.

[ She dips one gloved fingertip into the leather band and follows it around his neck, checking for anything along the inside. ]

Grip one side with the metal hand. I will pull the other side.

ok everyone else is doing s&m but lOOK

[samerica]

[Before he even speaks, Sam's fingers wrap around that metal wrist in the blink of an eye. It's pure reflex, an instinctive reaction to being grabbed, although she doesn't do anything else just yet. She relaxes slightly as he asks her to remove the collar, even looking slightly sheepish at her own reaction.

But before she tries to take it off, she takes a peek at the nametag, and what she sees there leaves her squinting at his face. It's hard, with the hair and the beard, and she knows that people look different in different universes-]

Bucky's a nickname, right?

lmao pls

[freightcars]

[ For what it's worth, that quick-flash grip on his wrist does give him a little bit of a reality check. His lips purse into a combination of apology and lingering displeasure at the thing around his neck. He drops his hand, though, posture gone less assertive and attitude complacent.

Ish.

Enough, anyway, until she says Bucky and his brow wrinkles up. ]

What-

[ He tracks her gaze down to the little metal tag. Oh, Jesus. ]

Seriously.

[ It's a drawl, a statement and not a question. Resigned, tired, annoyed. Of course they'd stamp his name on it, why wouldn't they, they put a goddamn collar on him. Might as well.

To answer her question: ]

It's my name.

[ The only one anyone here's getting, anyway. ]

<:

[samerica]

You're a grown-ass man named Bucky.

[Sam just rolls her eyes as she flicks the tag playfully with her index finger. The Bucky in her world is, she assumes, long-dead - though she'd thought the same of Steve till she tracked him down in the old folks' home. Truth is, she doesn't know what happened to any of her friends in the war - and while it's common enough to hear about Captain America in all shapes and sizes across the multiverse, she hasn't actively sought out enough information to be familiar with the Winter Soldier.]

I can try to get it off, but- [She pulls at the leather slipped through the buckle, with no luck.] There's only one thing stuff around here responds to.

[She pauses, then adds with a grin-] Bones. It says Bucky Bones.

[freightcars]

[ Thank you for that, Sam - yes, he's a grown ass man. Allow him to level just the flattest, most unimpressed expression at someone objectively doing him a favor.

Bones? On a little bone-shaped fucking tag? He goes from unimpressed to immediately disgusted, insulted. What the hell, are you-

Clamp it down, Barnes. Put a lid on it. Eyes roll to the sky, and then he drags them away so he can get a leash on his irritation.

Yeah, about that solution. ]

What do you mean? What thing?

[samerica]

I mean, if I were going for innuendos, I woulda chosen one that rhymes with Bucky, but I've never been real subtle.

[Kanyeshrug. The smirk on her face definitely wouldn't be out of place on someone Bucky is (presumably) more familiar with back home, though.]

Sex, Barnes. Sex.

[Oops did she let his last name slip?]

You didn't see the card on your bracelet? [She's tugging at his collar now to see if the leather snaps - one hand slid under it to keep it from choking him, of course - but she pauses for a moment to wave a bracelet-clad wrist in front of his face.] The robots want you to fuck and generate energy - and apparently do some weird shit in the process. Hell if I know how it works.

Big Bird

[desertdancer]

See, that's what I thought.

[A faint, wry huff of amusement as he shifted his lean against the railing as he was watching the chocobos go, spaded tail swishing idly.]

Spent the next hour or so getting lectured about how horrible that was. I mean I was thirteen, I'd never seen one before, and chicken is delicious. Why wouldn't I think they were for eating?