hyperlinks | test:drive

Entry tags:

!testdrive

test:drive_01.

TESTDRIVE_01
THE ARRIVAL. You wake up, wet and bruised, in the water. You don't recall falling, but you recall a flash of bright light, and the next thing you know you're washing up on the shoreline. You can see two moons and a planet in the sky. Directly abovehead is a slash of oscillating lights that flash painfully bright with every passing second - and you witness a handful of silhouettes getting spit out of the lights, falling into the water with a loud splash. It's a surprising sight; just as surprising is the fact that you're not alone. A stranger you didn't notice approaching hauls you up onto your feet, checks you for injuries, and then you're lifted into a shuttle, where you're healed by the med techs on board. There are others like you who were pulled from the water and the sand, and they're in various states of healing. You're all soaked in seawater - and by the look of things, you're all equally at a loss about your situation. An automated message keeps repeating over the PA system in English: "You are currently in Caius Allied Territory. Welcome to Alexandrina." Where the hell are you? You're now in Alexandrina, and we hope you enjoy your stay. NOT IN KANSAS ANYMORE. It isn't your lucky day. Something, somewhere along the line, goes incredibly wrong. Rather than keeping you at the shores of Alexandrina, the rift pulls you in and spits you out in a place that's a lot less watery and clear. The first thing you come to is the taste of dirt and grime, and the hustle and bustle of a city that doesn't have an off-switch. Overhead, there are high-rises and towers that go up further than your eyes can see. It seems neverending, and natural light struggles to filter through the metal. The shock only starts to fade away when you hear the sounds of a struggle not too far away from where you landed. Investigating will lead you to a group of Caia Maxus harassing a few Terrans on a back alleyway. The Terrans are trying to sidestep their way out of this (they'd rather not get involved in a fight), but the Caia Maxus far outnumber them and all escape routes have been blocked. No one else is stepping in to intervene. If anything, the rest of the onlookers seem to be encouraging the rough treatment. So now you get to decide: OPTION A \| YOU STEP IN LIKE THE HERO YOU ARE. You step between the two parties to try and avoid an escalation. You don't want to start trouble, or maybe you do and this seems like a good reason to fish for a fight. OPTION B \| YOU LOOK THE OTHER WAY. This isn't your problem really, so without saying a word, you head for the other direction. The Terrans weren't asking for help anyway, so maybe they could handle it. Best hope nothing will let you regret your decision. Choose wisely. You'll feel the effects of your choices sooner than you think. Regardless of what you decide though, the Hypatia Rescue Fleet 409 will locate you a few Terran hours later. They'll tell you they have no idea how you ended up in Koriba, that's never really happened before, but they're glad they managed to find you before anything major happened. THE NIGHT OF. It's a lot to take in. You're on an alien moon, looking out to a planet that looks a lot like Earth but isn't. You can see the storms swirling around, the deep blue of its own seas, as you listen to the crash and pull of the waves not far from where you stand. The stars are different here too - there are no constellations that you recognize immediately. Some of the older locals are lingering outdoors with you, and they nod at you as you make your way around the cottages. Are you headed to the beach? You might find a few couples having a moment there. Are you headed back into the cottages? If you peer into some of the windows, you'll find entire families sitting together, or parents tucking their children to bed. If you're headed into the woodsy areas that extend away from the beach, you might hear a rustling sound or two - from something too large to be another person. Careful where you walk tonight. There's a reason for lights out being a thing. WELCOME TO THE 409. It's the morning after your quick orientation into the Alexandrina settlement, and everything looks dewy and homey — until you start hearing loud splashes, followed by shots firing off nearby. Is it a bird? Is it a plane? No, it's a bunch of eldritch horrors falling from the rift abovehead. They stand at roughly ten meters tall each, lumbering out from the water with angry screeching and flailing limbs. They're already kicking up a mess at the shorelines, and upending some of the makeshift outposts lining the beach. The locals are shooting at them to keep them away from the settlement borders. Most of them are adults, but some of the shooters are as young as fifteen or sixteen, and clearly used to the kickback of the firearms they're carrying. One of these shooters pushes you forward, tells you to get moving. Another hands you keys to a vehicle and points you in the direction of the fleet — every able adult needs to help in manning the patrol lines, they say. The keys fit into a hoverbike, which in turn is armed with blast guns up front. "Get up in the air and help the guys out," the stranger urges you. "We don't have as many men as we used, to. Get going, get going!" ...Maybe those bikes come with a how-to manual? On the bright side, at least you're not alone in trying to figure these bikes out. NOTHING WASTED, NOTHING THROWN. The beach is saved! You're drenched in monster blood, there's sand in places you didn't realize you even had, and your bike is in some form of damage after those first few crucial minutes of getting the hang of riding them. Now comes the cleanup, and your character is armed with large chainsaws and buckets. The creatures need to be chopped down to smaller sizes before they can be properly incinerated, and everyone's kindly asked to suit up and get to chopping! There are small stalls and tents lined up along the beach for various purposes to help with the process. There are refreshment tents for when the sun heat gets to be too much; there are portable incinerator ovens, which burn the creatures' parts down into fertilizer (no point letting it go to waste, hey!), there are shower tents for when you're done with the hacking and sawing, and at the far end of the beach, away from the gore and the carnage, is a beach barbeque bonanza. From the way people act, this is a normal day in the 409. So why not grab a saw, chop up some monster flesh, and have yourself a nice beef-flavored something? You've earned it today. HYPENET. C̪͇̜̞͇̲a̮̠̝͍̩̦n̪̣ a̦͖n̕y̯̪̪o̟̭͞n҉̩e͢ ̱̜̠͎̖̤h̘̝͔͓̳̪̠e̻̲̦̯ͅa̵r͈̜͙̣̜ ̧m̩͇ḙ͓͡?̩͈̲ͅͅ H̷͖͇͈̮e̲͖❚❚͓͈̥̤̺͔ͅ—͍ N͎̦̫̯͔̯o͖̖͎̠̣̮ ̹̝o̬̦̠̫̮ͅ❚̱͈̺̝̥͞❚͏ ̳❚͉͎͜ş ̨͚̲͓͚̣̫s̙̥❚̮͚̻͠f̟̪̲̳̕e̥̞̲̝̝͟—͈̖ Whoa. What was that? This is the first thing you hear as soon as you try connecting to the network. Something tells you this isn't something that happens often, but asking anyone who knows more about this place than you do isn't netting you any answers. The more people start looking at you like you're crazy, the more you're tempted to brush it off... Connecting to the network again will trigger its original default message: Welcome to HypeNet, DefaultUsername[xxxx]! You are now accessing the Hypatia Mass Network. You may input your personalized username and start chatting now! Time to get some answers. Maybe someone else must have heard it too, right? OOC NOTES. Welcome to the first TDM of HYPERJUMP! We're trying something different with the Koriba prompt, so please bear with us. Cast your vote here! Both options have their own sets of consequences that will affect the first intro log of the game, so choose your actions carefully! Additionally, the interactions in this test drive can be game canon if the parties involved agree to it. Everyone is also encouraged to use test drive threads for samples in your application. We are super excited to have you here, and we hope you like what you see. ♥

Threaded | Flat

THE NIGHT OF.

[He's half convinced he's hallucinating this, all of this. Foreign constellations in a black sky that... well, skies at night all look the same more or less. Perhaps this is the park, some kind of soft opening, something new that's sprung from Ford's genius mind. Another part of his mind is providing helpful information such as 'if we're hallucinating, why's there no drink or food?'. It's got a point there.

Logan stands on the beach, empty hands hanging limply by his side, while he silently debates the how and why and where with himself.

In the end, there's only one explanation: he's dead and this is the afterlife.]

Oh for fuck's sake.

[Best make himself comfortable on the damp sand and wait out eternity, then, eh?]

HYPENET.
delos: hey god? i want my money back.

NOT IN KANSAS ANYMORE.

[The building was collapsing on top of them, debris, dust, dirt - soon they'd be swallowed up in it, buried underground, finding peace together in their last embrace, their last kiss. Finally.

But would she really let him die? Would she? Of course not. The last thing she remembered was hauling her puppy to the surface with her, leaving him with the nuns, in the hands of the god he was so fond of. They offered her sanctuary but Elektra declined. Someone like her had no business being under that roof and would be smote instantly if Matthew was right about his metaphorical father.

The next time she opens her eyes, she's... not in New York anymore. Pushing herself to her feet, Elektra feels every single bruise and sprain, instantly regretting not having just killed everyone when she had the chance. First things first, though. Finding shelter, some kind of place to clean up and map her place in this strange city, getting some food, some sleep. That was on her mind when she absent-mindedly shoved the obstacle blocking her path to the side, only to find herself stopped by another one.]

What? [People. Staring. She hates that.] Let go or lose the arm.

HYPENET.
SAI: Where's the fun in 'safe'?
What's a girl to do to get some decent greasy food?

NOT IN KANSAS (option A)

[Here is the thing about being deposited quite suddenly on another world, when you have never left home in several very, very literal ways—it's wildly exciting, to suddenly experience firsthand the bustle and crowds of a big city, things that up until this point have only been tantalizing glimpses of the outside, simulations spun up in virtual space—

So Poe is having the time of his life, in the way that a puppy at a dog park for the first time might be having the time of its life; a little overwhelmed, a little giddy, all walking face-first into trouble without meaning to at all. He sees the Caia Maxus, of course, sees and registers that they are dangerous and the Terrans are in need, and while his programming does not demand defensive action, he himself is inclined toward it when he can. When the odds are, quite frankly, terrible.

It is such an inclination that has him putting himself precisely where he shouldn't, in harm's way, and greeting the Caia Maxus with a chipper and very, well, passive-aggressive:]

Good sirs, if you would be so kind as to vacate the premises, the fine people here with brains larger than the contents of an egg cup would like to go about their business undisturbed.

[At which point he is, frankly, cuffed around the head, and with a sputter he draws himself up to his (not very tall) full height, and-- oh. Oh, yes. He's just one body, now, oops.]

I—am unable to provide adequate protection without proper compensation and, as seems to be the case, a gun... Well, this has become slightly awkward, hasn't it?

[Help him before they smear his digibrain on the pavement.]

HYPENET (KIND OF)

[Being, himself, an AI, Poe is drawn inexorably to the network. He can't seem to download himself into it or anything from it the way he's used to, but that's alright— he's managing! It's still some kind of access, some connection, and so he is... satisfied. Content, for the time being, to be but one mind unable to reach out toward any other.

Mostly.

The other thing about being an AI is this: when he hears the first voice through the network, glitched thoroughly and barely audible and untraceable by his now limited options, he can't help but wonder if that is another AI as well. You'll find him tapping the ear cuff repeatedly, turning the access off and on, trying in vain to hear that voice again—]

I am terribly fearful that someone is in there, bound, unable to reach out by any traditional means—

[Given that he is dressed like he walked out of the mid-1800s, this comment might not seem to mean what he intends it to. Hmm.

OR, actually on the network:]

theraven: Greetings and salutations, fine fellow residents of the... moon camp. Tell me, how would you rate the amenities you have been provided thus far in your stay?

[he has to SCOPE the COMPETITION]

WILDCARD

[hmu @ jojoveller or pm if you want to talk specifics, otherwise have at]

- arrival

[Ranmaru doesn't really understand a lot of this stuff. She isn't really the thinker type, so rather than try to process it logically she just ignores everything except for the fact she's stuck on a different planet. Things are easier that way and, really, who cares about the rest of the details right now? She'll sort it out later.

For now, sitting in the transport with everyone else and being one of the people no worse for wear, she decides to just do the only thing she can do.]

Yo...sup, dude? [And that's you!] Pretty crazy, right?

- nothing wasted.

[It's a good thing there were so many monsters to kill, because she's hungry and she's out there. Anyone nearby will witness a murder; that is to say, Ranmaru's packing away so much food with little caution it's honestly a wonder there's any room left inside of her. This girl's got an appetite.

Even as you reach for something at the same time as her and...she's already got a mouthful of food, earning a muffled response.]

Ohpfg...youvfe takkit, 'kay?

[SHOUNEN PROTAGONIST DON'T NEED TABLE MANNERS.]

I. THE NIGHT OF:
[Gravity pulls at her, dragging insistently downwards. She's no stranger to this — gravity was necessary for life in space after all, working in tandem with Culture to bind both the physical and metaphysical aspects of a human being together in a place where they had never been intended to go, let alone stay, let alone belong. Without them they would evaporate, dissipating into nothing. Luna-Terra had been one of the few pilots left in space that remembered Earth's own gravity, though, and not the fields generated by the engines and cores.

To her, Earth's gravity had always been overbearing, incessant. It's why she'd left. The person that its gravity had bound her into hadn't been what she had wanted it to be.

Two wars and more that she can't possibly explain later, and she's here, standing on a beach in the deep crush of an alien night, watching an indistinct moon ripple in reflection off of the lazy waves. She's seen enough terraformed landscapes cut and then coaxed from the surfaces of inhospitable planets to not feel completely thrown off, though there were a few degrees of separation lost to her, just enough that it felt markedly different. A completely different kind of planet, one with its own gravity, different from Earth's and different from that which had tried to mimic it. There is so little that she knows — that she thinks she knows, or maybe doesn't at all — that she can rely upon here.

Rustling in the foliage several meters behind her had become a noise that fell into the sound of the sea, but a short staccato of sharp snapping sounds draw her attention, keen and sharp. Luna-Terra looks over her shoulder, eyes cutting through the dark to see who — or what — it was.]

II. WELCOME TO THE 409:
[When they had fought in space against the Existential Threat, they had never fought a clear enemy. They were shadows on the lens, ripples of light and depth pressed into the corners of space. They had wielded metaphorical weapons to eliminate a hypothetical menace. Luna-Terra has only ever fought with weapons whose ammunition was conceptual, where the line between life and death was never truly at risk.

But then she watches the creatures fall from the sky and splash down into the water, just as they all had a short time ago. She thinks now that perhaps the war might've been more clear if they had had such obvious foes to fight. Or perhaps the opposite would have been true. One can never know.

Luna-Terra reacts automatically. She'd always done best when she'd obeyed impulse, not allowing the mire of her thoughts to interfere. That there were teenagers fumbling at their weapons as she strode through them didn't stay her for a second — she had been their age when she had gone into space to fight, after all — no, she scarcely seems to need the guiding hands, finding the man shouting orders, the woman pressing a set of keys into her hand.

She would prefer the Mare Crisium, but — she needs to move, not dwell. She swings her leg over the side of the bike she'd been pointed to, scanning it. Luna-Terra pilots the only completely manual Ship-Self in space; she absorbs in instants the construction of the machine, the logical placement of the controls. She knows how it works, twisting the key in the ignition to fire up the engine (how retro), testing the throttle and monitoring the roar. There's a possibility her educated assessment was wrong, sure. But she's probably right.

She notices the person to her right attempting to figure out the machine as well, eyes hard and flat and possibly the lightest shade of judgmental for a long, precarious moment before—]

Ignition, here. [With each statement she gestures, eyes flicking upwards to catch the stranger's just to make sure they understood.] Throttle, and this one's the brake. That manages elevation. Gun controls are — there.

[It was enough to get them going. Luna-Terra releases the safety brake with a kick, and she guides her bike up to hover five or so feet off of the ground.]

Come on.

[And then she rockets forward into the fray.]

HYPENET:
marecrisium: >receive report

[...]

marecrisium: >receive new assignments

[Well. It was worth a shot.]

I. THE NIGHT OF.

[ the moon offers a stark contrast to grimy Koriba - where, still reeling from an impressive concussion, he'd lasted all of a minute before picking a fight with several locals. by the time the transport had found him, he'd chased most of them off. a tense stand off had ensued before he'd been ushered (wrestled) aboard with the promise of answers.

he'd shunned the offer of medical treatment but had accepted a medical kit. the kit remained behind now as he ventured outdoors, head turning up to study the twinkling night sky. he didn't know these stars. didn't know this system. and the answers he'd been promised were frustratingly vague.

a walk would clear his head - failing that it would give him something to do. following the crashing waves, he heads toward the beach. ]

II. HYPENET.

Socorro: What is the name of this system?

III. WILDCARD.

[ hmu with a pm if you'd like to try something different. ]

ONE.
[ There are horrors, and then there are horrors.

What he's witnessing is completely different than anything he's ever seen before; what he's used to is the hell of giant robots with equally giant guns loaded on them. Including his own, of course.

Ten feet is a lot smaller than a mobile suit, though. Maybe that makes it more manageable. He's not sure. But at least he seems comfortable enough on the bike, and if it seems like somebody needs a hand, he's bringing it close and reaching out a white gloved hand towards them. ]

Let's find their soft spot.

[ Look, he won't even fight you off if you wanna drive. ]

TWO.
[ A subtle message from the username vidar. Look, he doesn't want to trust anyone when his feelios are so raw. He's had a really bad ~~week~~ two years. ]

Have you ever seen a habitable moon before?

WILDCARD.
[ feel free to accidentally knee him in the groin or drop a piano on him or tell him he smells.

also please feel free to leave me a blank so i can come up with something custom!!!!!!! ]

NOT IN KANSAS ANYMORE.

[ dutch isn't having a great day.

being dropped in a strange city -- in a strange system -- would never qualify for her bucket list, but she has even less patience than she normally would for it now. she has a bloody war to end, and she most definitely doesn't have the time to deal with rifts in space or human-hating aliens. and there's no question these aliens do hate humans. she notes glares and unfriendly muttering from some of the ugly assholes as she passes through the city, notes the same around other humans. as if every human -- terran, whatever the hells that's supposed to mean -- is at fault for the creation of that rift; they want the refugees gone, the refugees want themselves gone, and what they're all left with is a lot of disappointment and probably not enough decent hokk to go around.

forget decent. dutch would go for any drink, right about now.

what she gets instead is this: raised voices, taunting, shuffling footsteps, and something she's sure to regret investigating. so she follows. and surprise, surprise, finds some big purple bastards hassling a couple of scared-looking terrans. ]

Hey! [ she says, loud, lips curving into a confident smirk. ] Is this party invite-only, or can a girl volunteer for a piece of the action?

[ there's four of them, all huge, two of the hapless terrans, and one of her. her tone is flip, but her mind's working through strategy -- weak points, where to attack first, whether it's faster to draw from her thigh holster or pull a knife.

if a passerby is inclined to help, though, she wouldn't exactly say no to back up. ]

WELCOME TO THE 409

What the hells are those supposed to be?

[ hideous, disgusting monsters -- just another thing to love about their new home. but if dutch doesn't seem too upset about all this, well. there's something appealing about it, isn't there -- straightforward. these are horrible monsters, come to attack humans, and there's a simple, basic morality to that. kick ass, kill the monsters, protect those who need protecting. and, frankly, if the scary ugly creatures have feelings? she really doesn't give a shit.

not to mention the fact that she's handed the keys to a hoverbike, and what's not to like about that? she fits the keys into the ignition and studies the controls, smile a little pleased and a little predatory. (gods, johnny would kill for one of these.)

she tosses at glance at anyone starting up a bike nearby, says, ]

Last one to get their bike in the air buys the winner a drink. What do you say?

HYPENET

killjoy: Creepy static, monsters from the sky, and unfriendly aliens. People in Alexandrina have really rolled out the welcome mat.
killjoy: Has anyone heard of the Caius solar system before today?

WILDCARD

[ feel free to ping me to hash out another starter or prompt me for any scenario! ]

Edited 2018-08-05 02:01 (UTC)

( .Not In Kansas Anymore [B] )

[ It is only by coincidence alone that Maggie happens to walk by. She has a feeling that she wasn't supposed to look but she did anyways and immediately regrets it. The abuse that is going on is obviously quite bad and unfair. She has the means to save them, she knows that. And these people look just like her! But...she wont do anything. Someone else would handle them. But not her.

She was on another world and the rules were obviously different. Maybe there is a reason that they are getting beat up. Maybe they stole something? That's how it worked on her planet, anyways. She sees what seems to be someone of the law stop by and she seems slightly hopeful but they then just continue on. The feeling in Maggie's stomach gets worse but she sucks in a deep breath and turns her head away, covering her ears at the sounds of others getting beat as she walks away quickly. It's just... ]

It's just not my problem. I have to worry about myself.

[ That's what she will continue to tell herself. But she'd keep an eye out just in case she came across someone who knew what to do. ]

( .The Night Of )

[ Maggie sighs as she looks out at the view of the beach. It's quite peaceful and sort of romantic. Too bad she hasn't found a single guy that she can hit on to bring them out here. What is the excuse most of the guys give her? "You're too young" or whatever? She really didn't get it. She's fifteen, not five. Holy TITAN how hard is it? Maggie lifts her shirt slightly and rubs the pact door that rests on her stomach. Maybe she...no. That would be a real waste. ]

Ugggh. I'm going to die...

[ Maggie sits down in the sand, exhausted and having boyfriend withdrawals. Or maybe she was just craving any sort of interaction and attention, really. Had she taken all of her usual friends for granted? The only positive is getting away from the stalker Odin and the primordial chaos that is her ex-friend Ava.

She begins to draw something in wet sand but still keeps an eye out. Monsters may be lurking around, after all. ]

( .Nothing Wasted, Nothing Thrown )

Ew, ew, ew!

[ Maggie has to physically resist the urge to throw up her lunch as she looks at the remains of the monster. Beach was saved. Lovely! But the only downside here is that she is covered in gross monster blood. It is in her hair and she swears on TITAN that it's in her mouth. This is her favorite outfit too...

Everyone seems to be working hard at cleaning it up and, while she should do the same, she really didn't want to. Maggie looks around to make sure no one is watching before she slowly and casually makes her way to the refreshments. She leans against the table and fakes exhaustion. ]

Wew. That was some...hard work there. I'm totally beat. I don't think I can handle anymore monster guts.

( .Hypenet )

[ Username? What would be her username. Hmmm...oh! ]

BeautifulRose. Please and thank you.

[ Registered. Nice. ]

BeautifulRose: hello? any1 around?
BeautifulRose: im looking for some info on the situation at hand.

kansas with a b

[He had never been in a place like this but he had seen plenty of holos of the dense cityscape of Coruscant which seemed almost similar but it was clear this wasn't his galaxy. He could navigate the complicated levels of a star destroyer with ease but this was entirely different. Here no one quickly got out of his way but he had to push his way through, making sure his blaster was in easy reach.

He paused as he heard the sound of the conflict but honestly, he didn't care. This wasn't his world, he wasn't going to get himself involved in anyone else's affairs unless it benefited him.

So he turned away, pausing to wipe some slime off his boot on a nearby curb with a grimace. This place was disgusting.]

night of

[Datapad...no connection. He didn't recognize the stars, the name of the system and planet had been foreign to him but that didn't mean he was out of his galaxy. The Unknown Regions was vast- there was much that even the First Order was unaware of in that part of the galaxy.

He frowned as he tried to find any kind of connection once more but it was clear that there were no holonet relays out here. If he was in the Unknown Regions, he was out somewhere very remote indeed. He finally admitted defeat and tucked the datapad securely into an inner pocket of his coat.

Finding a way back to the fleet wasn't going to happen tonight.]

hypenet

un: starkiller

So, who else is here?

I. DOROTHY

[ Shouta has a feeling or two about luck. Mostly that it's a large crock of bullshit, if his current predicament is anything to go by.

Lucky people don't get hurtled through space, dunked in alien saltwater, and then scrambled up some more, only to end up spit out onto some trash heap of a city street. His suspension of disbelief is pretty damn good most days, especially when it relates to his survival, but from one particular alleyway, the long string of curses and splattering water might not be well-camouflaged by the sounds of the streets.

He only stops there to wring out his coat and gloves, the damp material already stinking like the air of this place. Really, it'd be easier to go without, but then he'd be left carrying his firearms out in the open, and let's be real, they're about the most extra things in the history of guns, so. That's out. Soggy is in.

And so, soggily, Shouta sets out to navigate his way around this place. Visibility is poor, he doesn't recognize any landmarks. There are flying cars. A fractured skyline that never seems to end. And — ah, there. That's familiar. The silhouettes might be all wrong, but there's no mistaking it.

A fight. ]

Yo! [ Wisely, Shouta has decided to enter the mouth of the alleyway, unconcerned that it could eat him alive. ] How about we all take a second to calm down.

[ Law enforcement is in his blood, which is probably going to end up all over the ground soon because he's definitely going to get punched in the face.

Backup, maybe? ]

II. RESCUE FLEET

Get off me!

[ As if a rescue operation and a bumpy shuttle ride wasn't stressful enough, now there's this asshole making a ruckus with the medical technicians, refusing their treatments. Most people aboard have any number of injuries from taking a tumble out of the sky, of all things, but Shouta is notably drier, a little grimier, and he definitely has a handsome bruise purpling on his cheek that seems more pointed than just your average faceplant-into-the-beach fare.

(Guess who got punched in the aforementioned prompt. This guy.)

Luckily the techs back off, leaving Shouta to sit there pettily, arms crossed and wild auburn hair tousled every which way. If he feels eyes on him, he's quick to return the favor. ]

What are you looking at?

[ Yikes. ]

III. NIGHT OF

[ It's a lot to take in. He'd call it a nightmare, but Shouta is a man who knows his nightmares, and this isn't it. He's loathe to admit this is almost peaceful in comparison to the life he was counting down to zero on, the beach lit by the glow of the planet it orbits, soft tides and wind moving through the trees. At least, he hopes it's wind.

Either way, he's sitting in the sand with his alien booze and his bruised cheek. Not unarmed, but old habits die hard.

If he hears an approach, he'll sigh, leaning back in the sand. ]

Same bright idea, eh?

[ You know, a "get hammered and hope you blink it away" kind of deal. ]

IV. 409

[ Just when he thought he'd seen enough fun and was this-close to believing he'd open his eyes and find himself back in his shitty apartment, aliens. Really, really ugly aliens. He's probably too hungover for this? And Shouta's not much of a getaway driver, reckless as he is. He has people for that. But boy, can he shoot. Which is why he's hailing the closest person he can find that doesn't look like they'll get him killed for the effort, wasting no time in tossing the hoverbike keys at them. ]

Can you fly this thing?!

[ Too bad, he already gave you the keys! Aren't you lucky. ]

Look, you drive, I'll shoot.

[ Or someone is getting a tentacle upside the face and goddamnit, it's not going to be him. ]

V. HYPENET

CAPTAIN: Anyone see our pal with the drinks lately? Pretty stingy, if you ask me.

the night of
[ Lottie wakes up with the worst case of dread. The second strongest burst she's felt since she first opened her eyes to being stuck in the stupid ocean here, on this stupid planet, before being rescued. After swimming to the safety of the shore. By herself. Every interaction is stiff and forced, but for someone like Lottie it almost looks genuine. She takes the time to bottle up every concern she feels until nighttime, where she walks to the beach. ]

Of course. This would totally happen, why am I even surprised? [ She says with barely contained bitterness, having come to the beach at the most popular hour for couples. Just rub it in! Continue to rub in her pathetic love life, the loss thereof, with her already pathetic life! That's fine! Lottie takes some time to kick up some sand to vent out some frustration, under the assumption she's without any onlookers.

Or, if you're a night owl, you'll find Lottie with a blanket and pillow, post-cry, huddled up in the top covers she stole from her cabin. And maybe stole from her roommates. She doesn't care. She makes a show of checking for life around her, and... eventually spots you? Uh??? Please ignore the snot, how mortified she is, and how quickly she scrambles to get her things. ]

nothing wasted, nothing thrown
[ In the second volume of Lottie Hates her Life, she's now a glorified janitor after helping (what help was she, really) to kill some... Well, it definitely is a thing now at least.

Should she feel bad? There's some part of her that twists, gut churning at the mere thought of death, just looking over at the carcasses of the creatures that attacked. She thinks of herself, and how easy it would be for these absolutely bonkers people from space to do the same for her if they really wanted to. For these things. Why is this normal? How did she get roped into this so fast?

And is it wrong that she's kind of.. worried about her nails? ]

Hey. I just had a quick question. [ Terrible. Lottie has the decency to feel bad about herself before approaching a stranger, and it shows in awkward way her brows scrunch. She's trying her best to seem as unbothered as possible and it's at least a convincing 50%. ] Do you think these people would mind if I stepped away?

hypenet
lottie: ........
lottie: i can't be the only one who thinks this ear cuff thing is ugly right

Threaded | Flat

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Logan Delos | Westworld

Elektra Natchios | Netflix Marvel

poe | altered carbon

ranmaru rindou | good luck girl!

luna-terra ♁ heaven will be mine

kylo ren ( star wars )

gaelio bauduin | gundam: iron-blooded orphans

dutch | killjoys