voicetest | Entries tagged with entry: brackets

(Wash lowers his head. He can't over get what the soldier said, even though he's supposed to be relaxing, now.)

Why does the Director want me alive?

I know he'll want to "debrief" me personally, but he should've been happy to see me dead.

((Sorry if I made any mistakes, I'm new to DW rp.))

sniperbitch

[ no i swear the communicator turned on by itself also this shitpile space station sure looks familiar ]

Oh my gawd.

etherics

SETTING ONE: Prose or Brackets

Ah, Victorian London. The Thames, the clock tower, the palace. The crowded dirty cobblestone streets, the ever-present pall of coal smoke belched from trains and factories and steamers, the curling fog around the lamplights in the darkness. There are handsome gardens and lush concert halls waiting for the wealthy and privileged, private rail carriages and cut crystal on white tablecloths, but for the poor and the working class there are crowded boarding houses, dark alleyways, and the echoing footsteps of someone following you in the roughest parts of town where they'll never find your body.

Perhaps this is your first time here, and you're staring about in awe or disgust. Or perhaps this is all old news to you. Perhaps you, like everyone else, are about your daily business hailing a hansom cab or perusing shops or solving mysteries. Perhaps you don't even notice the whip slender, shabbily dressed little man until you've bumped into him, or until he's come alongside you trying to pass by, or has accidentally started for your cab. In a city of first appearances he's not much to look at: sickly pale like someone recently ill, five foot, and so thin as to look almost a youth, unfashionably short cropped red hair and patches on his jacket.

The edge of a cheap cotton glove pokes awkwardly from a pocket. He's wearing the other one, cradling his left forearm close to his body to obscure the sight of it for the same reason the glove had been hastily stuffed away - both are entirely covered in blood, his left arm soaked to the elbow.

Whether it's his blood or someone else's is anyone's guess.

Perhaps this meeting is in the dead of night, when no legitimate person has any business on the streets, in which case another detail might make itself alarmingly known to you as he materializes out of the fog. The man's unnaturally dilated pupils are ringed in gold, and faintly glowing.

~

SETTING TWO: Brackets, Text, Video or Voice

[ Oh my stars and garters, it's a jamjar. Is it a space station? A magic castle? An island governed by capricious gods demanding sexual sacrifice? Whatever it is, it's bloody irritating, and justiciars aren't allowed vacations. ]

Excuse me.

[ The voice that raps out is lit with annoyance, the owner clearly clinging to a veneer of courtesy by his teeth, which are clenched tight beneath pressed lips. ]

I don't have time for this. I'm expected - and I will be missed, if I don't turn up. I won't be kept here, understand.

~

SETTING THREE: choose ur own adventure!

leteverythingstainher

(This post will contain (and be set in) spoilers for Wadanohara and the Great Blue Sea. Due to said spoilers, I'm putting the post content behind a cut. Some potential for blood and violence and creeping will occur here, as a forewarning.)

( Woo spoilers. )

gemuinemanagement

[A: a village in the middle of nowhere, Japan]
[For whatever reason, you're in Azaka Village, a peaceful place with a large museum devoted to its history that nobody ever seems to go to. And for whatever reason - curiosity, losing track of time, an inability to play by the rules - you're exploring the museum after closing hours.

It doesn't take long before you realize that there is somebody in the museum with you, and now you're face to face with him. A man in all black, with a bright, gleaming sword has cornered you in one of the rooms. He advances upon you, holding the sword with one hand and with the other...

...pulling out a paper memo and pushing it in your face.]

The museum is closed

[B: slice of life jamjar]
[You've been sorted into a family with this guy who communicates with you largely by post-it notes and organizes and cleans things as a hobby. Since he's university age, he's been sorted as the father of the household.

So, as the father, he's going to try to fulfill his duties and cook something.

You wake up to the smell of burnt something. It's not clear what it was that was burnt, even if you go have a look at him glowering at the stove. There was food, and then it burnt beyond recognition.]

telephony

[Matthew feels hollow in a way he always is whenever he's out of reach of a city. The countryside has it's own power, but it's one he doesn't recognise and out here he can't feel his heart beat in time with the traffic or walk in time with the natural rhythms of city life. All things considered, the beach isn't high up on his list of places to visit.

But it is theirs. They're curious about everything and want to experience things first hand. It's a risk to be away from their source of power, but they so wanted to know. Precautions were set up of course. A few Aldermen were standing around close enough to see him, but far enough that it wasn't immediately obvious they were here with him and if it came down to it, the angels could burn what his sorcery couldn't.

It's a cold gloomy day and he almost looks like someone who woke up hungover on the beach if not for the way he's running around in bare feet, enjoying the feeling of sand between his toes.]

If we could we would spend all day here. So why is it so empty here?

the18th

[She'd outpaced her contingent when she'd run after the red-and-yellow monsters who'd been terrorizing this part of town. Not only had the monsters been attacking people, but they'd been stealing people's juice. How monstrous.]

[She's surrounded now, though.]

I won't be defeated easily....

brushitoff

A.

Well, wasn't this a dead forest. The undergrowth crackled under her feet as if something had been through here, leeching the life out of the ground. Didn't even have the courtesy to leave her an easy trail to follow, leaving such a huge radius withered like this. Cautious of anything that might spring out at her, Jabi took a step to the right, then another.

If she had to continue like this the entire way, she'd never get anywhere. She looked at the tree next to her, gauging its sturdiness, and then jumped into it. She continued up until she could get a good view around for at least a hundred meters. "Looks like it was in a hurry, to come this far in only a few hours."

It hadn't gone yet, but the question, and her task: where was it?

B.

[She's found a lantern in this empty wooden shack, and has tied it to the rafters, where it sways, creating shadows that loom. Heedless, she goes around the small boxy building, sticking red paper charms onto the walls.]

We'll be okay here for the night.

C.

[Something else?]

postorganic

( action )

herzlose_prinzessin

Help me! Help me!

[This particular cry does not come from the white-haired girl wandering through the forest, but from a nearby apple tree. Mytho does not appear to be particularly disturbed by the voice, and she turns to look placidly at the tree.]

What's wrong?

[The tree heaves a great sigh.]

My apples, one and all, are so very ripe! Won't someone shake me?

[Mytho barely considers this before saying:] Okay.

[Without another word, Mytho reaches up and begins to shake the branches with a surprising amount of strength, considering her petite size. Apples are now raining down on all and sundry.]

secretsymphony

[Tonight's gig has just ended and the band has split up to enjoy the luxuries of the hotel for a couple of hours before their driver comes to pick up both them and their equipment. Their instruments look sort of lonely, left behind up there - on the small, round stage in the corner of the room. It's a nostalgic observation that Shiori makes, glancing back over one shoulder before sitting down on one of the free stools at the long, mahogany bar and it makes her feel strangely estranged. From the situation. From her surroundings. Although she's a stranger to neither.

Cocking her head slightly, she surveys the selection of alcohol on the shelves behind the bartender. Lets her eyes run over each bottle individually while she tries to make her pick. She can't, though. The jitters from performing have died down and left her with no hole to fill. If she's drinking, she'll be drinking to fill the silence instead and there are other ways to do that, right? Thus, she turns her attention towards the person next to her.]

What do you think I should get? I'm drawing a complete blank.

soldierofskies

[ Haruka crosses one long leg over the other and idly pokes at her salad with a fork while checking her phone for messages. On the cafe patio, the waitress bustles from table to table, customers chat or wolf down their food and drink or signal for the bill. None of it seems to make an impact on the blonde, though her lip quirks upward when a pair of schoolgirls pass on the sidewalk and whisper excitedly about "that cute guy".

The buttons of her phone make a "pip pip pip" noise as she scrolls through her inbox, ignoring -- for the moment -- messages from the track team, notices from the F1 forum she'd posted to, and the fifteen different texts from Usagi. With a slight huff, she closes her phone and tucks it back into her pocket. The salad is getting warm from sitting in the afternoon sunshine, but she fishes a tomato out anyway. Popping it in her mouth, she looks up at the cloudless blue sky. ]

It's a beautiful day.

caneous

[ Fourbuck is an unusual surname, by most standards. Once every five times Camden's mentioned it, he's had to explain that Fourbuck is his hand-to-God last name. He doesn't really mind it, except for when he does. Like tonight. He's in no mood to be social tonight, knowing what the date is and what it means to him and the man he calls Dad.

Here's to you, Ma, he thinks as he hails the bartender for another drink. The bottle comes to him with condensation all over it, and he spends a bit rolling the bottle from one hand to the other before caving in and turning to the closest person on the bar. The bartender didn't give him a coaster, see, and normally he wouldn't care about that, but— ]

Hey, you mind if I borrow your coaster?

arealboar

( kagura is hurrying along, trying to hurry along, going as fast as one can go while trying to put papers and a notebook in a bag while navigating down a busy street and trying to not run into anyone and wearing wedges on top of all that, when something slips and —

yes, there it all goes, a sheaf of lined paper, several handouts, pens, and a thin textbook labelled EARLY CHILDCARE & DEVELOPMENT, scattering in the middle of the sidewalk. ) Ooh — crap! ( she falls to her knees, mindful of her short dress, and begins trying to gather it all before it scatters or is stepped on. )

assistanting

[Everyone from your city hall's parks and recreation department has some Really Important Thing to do that isn't being in the office right now, leaving former-intern-now-paid-employee April Ludgate to handle all of your ridiculous complaints, questions, and concerns about the parks system in your city.

Joy.

Maybe no one will actually bother her in this entire block of time.]

Three hours, god, hurry up and go faster.

inursatellites

INTERIOR: GENERIC SPACE BAR

[Soundwave is not the sort to frequent places such as this. He prefers not to "indulge", as it were. But this is what his Lord commands. This is what Megatron commands. And thus, this is what Soundwave will do.]

[He's slunk into a darkened corner, simply listening. There is, in fact, a cube before him, the liquid glowing blue within, but he hardly seems interested in the drink. His attention is, instead, focused on the room around him.]

[There are so many interesting conversations to eavesdrop on. And, in all those conversations, there must be some kernel of useful information.]

[So the massive satellite transformer listens.]

[In utter, creepy, silence.]

wearer

a. space

( cut for possible klk spoilers. )

b. horror

( cut for violence. )

c. general

[ she is sipping her tea when she hears the knock at the door. it comes as no surprise, of course - she has been expecting this meeting for some time. nevertheless, it is a harsher end to the silence than she might have liked, and the corners of her lips tug softly downward.

she takes another sip, closing her eyes as the warm flavor passes through, and speaks only after she has finished. ]

You may enter.

[ even when phrased as permission, it still seems like a command. perhaps it's just something in her demeanor - her authoritarian tone, or her unquestioning nature.

the door finally opens. satsuki does not bother to look. ]

Well? Speak quickly, or hold your tongue.

curryparty

[Game Start!]

[You know how it goes. Everyone wakes up to find themselves trapped in some new location, with only vague details of the hows and whys. After a day or two the initial shock wears off, but few have really gotten their feet under them as of yet. Apparently there are strange events that may happen from time to time, but so far no one's been witness to any - an air of uncertainty clouds the newcomers.

Not that you'd be able to tell by this kid's wide grin.]

Hey, hey! Yes, you there! Wait up!

[He's waving happily as he jogs to catch up. Have you even seen this guy before...?]

[Friendship]

[Whether you like it or not, Asuma seems to have decided that you are now his friend. Which means that every time he sees you, without fail, you will be greeted with a cheerful:]

Heeeeeeey! Over here! Hi!

[...Right before he dashes up to your side like an overeager puppy. Still, he's a nice kid, even if he's silly at times. Hopefully he doesn't annoy you too much.]

[Event]

[One of those wacky jamjar events has come into play. The effects? Are totally up to you! Body swaps, compulsive honesty, cupcakes that make you behave erratically - anything PG is fair game. Although if you want to bump it to PG-13 at the highest, that's fine too. Just let me know first!

Either way, Asuma doesn't seem to be all that concerned for now at least. Does this kid ever worry about anything?]

grim_poet

[there's a very tall, bespectacled man folded up at a table in the corner of the cafe you find yourself in. he looks like a stiff breeze would probably send him flying off into the sunset, and he's staring off into the distance, intently, a stub of gnawed pencil hovering in one hand over a battered notebook.

after a moment, he turns his head sharply and looks directly at you, as though he's been talking to you for hours, and you already know each other. you totally don't.]

Is 'aubergine' too elite an adjective, do you think? Normally I trust my own judgement, but I'm really not sure.

((A/N: Simon here is a poet who tends to write about controversial things. If there are any issues that you would rather NOT come up in the conversation, please note them in your tag header. For the most part, I will keep the details of his writing generic so as not to trigger anyone. As in his canon, it's not the end product that matters so much as the reactions to it and the things that inspire.))

vulpin

[OOC: Both settings loosely from his canon aka fantasy early 19th century Europe. The first is a dreamscape if you don't want to think about world-switching logistics. Also if icons swap it's because I've gotten around to finishing his new set]

a. [Something about this place doesn't feel quite right. Like he knows that he's dreaming, but he sure as fuck doesn't know this place. Looks like the gardens in Nephele, but... bigger. More impressive. Like they'd decided one wasn't enough and just piled more on top - trees and flowers and fancy little open buildings that probably had a name he didn't know. But in sort of a nice way. Helps that all the paths are even, and there are plenty of benches. One of which he's sitting on, for the moment.]

b. [This bar is almost the same as the last six they've passed through, though with slightly better booze. Nowhere near as bad as some of the dives in the Lower City, but everything past the Perblanches was rough. Rural, Felix would probably say. If he felt like talking and not being a total asshole at the same time, which was getting to be a pretty fucking rare combination. A part of Mildmay's not sure how to feel about this, but he could get used to not having to worry if half the bar is going to jump him as soon as he walks in the door.

He's got a drink and a deck of cards he picked up Kethe knows how many towns ago - they're okay on money right now, so maybe he can just fucking relax for once.

Of course, if the people at the table in the back escalate their argument into an actual fight, that could get dicey.]

chirurgical

[You can't quite place it, but there's something slightly intimidating about the giant, secluded, Mary Shelly-esque manor. Maybe it's just something about the light. Either way, it's the only shelter for miles, and you're not going to let any sort of pop-cultural preconceptions keep you out here in the storm.

After a few solid seconds of knocking, the doors creak open to reveal a girl, probably no older than her late teens, covered in a network of stitches and surgical scars and flanked by a pair of monstrous manservants. Literally monstrous. One of them has a dog's head, for Christ's sake.

Maybe you should've just kept walking.]

Ah, hello! Can I help you?

chub

[A cigarette dangles loosely between his lips as he reaches for his lighter. Maybe he should do more, but he's a no collar boy with a genius IQ who doesn't want to take up the responsibility of saving everyone else. Maybe that's why he likes doing shitty schemes. In that way he's certainly Frank Gallagher's kid-- only he's smarter and better looking. Still he makes the ends meet however he has to, no matter what Fi thinks. This is his life after all.

So once the cigarette is lit, he'll start walking around the back of this old building. He can sell anything, though he doesn't have anything on him to protect himself. He's no Malkovich. But he's in the business of making money. He taps on the back door.]

I heard you got something for me, [Lip replies when the door finally opens.]

ooc: rating is for language/ illicit deals, etc etc. Lip is looking for anything/ anyone if he thinks he can make a buck on it.

larue

[ London, 2063.

The fog is thick tonight. It paints the world a particular shade of gray that blends streets and buildings together, so much that the glow of the street lamps seem to come from nowhere and everywhere at once.

A curious thing that you see though, is the sight of a young man in his mid-twenties, dressed in a deep crimson suit as he comes to a stop at one corner. There's a distinct click as he lights up a cigarette, the same hand that stows the gunmetal Zippo back in his pocket fishing out a phone that he brings to his ear. ]

All quiet on my end.

autopilots

[ He's sitting on a piece of concrete that's been cut away from a larger slab of concrete. It was probably part of a wall before; now it's only good for sitting on, and Raleigh doesn't mind it. It's as good a place to sit on as any.

Raleigh's picking at the dirt on his hardhat, when he looks over and sees someone loitering at the construction area. He knows it's been clearly marked as a dangerous area. ]

You're not supposed to be here without at least a hat on, you know.

saxappeal

[Somewhere in the middle of the rainy city, out on the downtown streets, there's the sound of a jazz quartet being headed by a skilled saxophone player drifting through the air. The problem is, getting close to the source of the music only shows one man in a giant trenchcoat, leaning against the brick wall exterior of a jazz club and handling a saxophone with the greatest of ease.

So, where's the rest of the music coming from? Maybe he's concealing a boombox or something underneath that trenchcoat. Either way, whether you want to get up in his business or lose yourself in the groove, well, that's up to you.]

Profile

For all your voicetesting needs.

for all your voicetesting needs

Entries tagged with entry: brackets

Canon: Red Vs Blue.

CANON: Halo Legends | SETTING: canon universe or singularity

Canon: Charm of Magpies series

[Action]

Settings listed by entry. Canon is Forest of Drizzling Rain.

setting: the beach when it's too cold for that

setting: modern city

setting: enchanted forest

A bar on any planet. only cut warning would be for tng relaunch/pocket spoilers probably

Setting: An Enchanted Forest

SETTING: a luxury hotel

[action]

setting: a random waterhole in a college town

SETTING: A STREET?

location: city hall

PG13; possible alcohol?

[cw: violence/nudity, spoilers] settings listed by entry

Generic Jamjar - choose your own adventure!

Setting: Slice of Life, R for possible language

R for language

rating for extremely probable body horror. canon is Franken Fran

Hey, come on try a little. Nothing is forever

i write sins, not tragedies.

hell yeah

TW: the smoothest jazz

Profile

Links