voicetest | Entries tagged with type: fandom

(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.))

nakamura_sensei

SETTING TWO: THE LOG HORIZON UNIVERSE, SOMEWHERE NORTH ("HOKKAIDO")
(situation: stuck in a generic fantasy mmo.)
(prose or brackets)

Two things are on her mind as she noiselessly strides between shallow pools in a cave system. Firstly, the white blazer she has on makes quite the statement but it's no lab coat. Last but not least, here somewhere are robots fighting giants and she isn't resting until she finds one.

It isn't quite pitch dark.

Preoccupied, Nakamura edges her way forward against the cave wall, which is rough and pitted with ice. She stops when she almost walks into something. Ice protrudes from the wall like icicles jammed in with force, and she can see the "icicles" spiral up into the darkness, wrapped around a column? She lightly grabs one, and it's ice, but ice encasing iron.

Is she looking at a way up? Did she stumble on an abandoned watch post? She pauses breathlessly, on the verge of springing ... somewhere.

Alright, she'll go. Maybe there's something.

SETTING ONE: AN OVERGROWN FIELD NEAR AN ABANDONED BASEBALL PITCH, TOKISADAME(?), JAPAN
(situation: closer to canon.)
(prose or brackets)

She's running.

Maybe in circles -- it isn't like she has satellite imagery to look at! She can't confirm her position. She isn't one of those giant mechs in Aldnoah Zero, she's a science teacher running as fast as she can -- on foot! Away from an unidentified flying object of her own creation. The remote of which is in her hands, quite useless.

She fights the tall grass, which parts with such ease for her pursuer. To think that a homing device, designed to return the craft to its controller, would be so effective!

fanatiker

OPTION 1: TEXT/BBS

How can you even say that? It's not even a matter of arguing SEMANTICS. Anyone with a remedial understanding of the physiology or biology of the digestive system could make the leap it's essentially controlled acid reflux. It's like if the dilophosaurus in Jurassic Park had even been remotely accurate except on an enormous scale. The corrosive capabilities of the Kaiju's acid are accelerated dramatically. We're talking a pH in the NEGATIVES. It's like Gastric acid on steroids which makes it extremely deadly and effective. AND pretty bad ass. Like, seriously.

Besides the Kaiju wouldn't be the first creature to employ projectile bodily fluids as an offense or defense. We should be glad they're not shooting blood out of their eyes!!

ACTUALLY. That would also be kind of cool.

OPTION 2: ACTION/CONVENIENCE STORE

[ Newt can eat a lot of things--a lot of things that don't necessarily belong to him, which is part of the reason why he's bothered to wander off base at all. It just happened that all of his things were gone or had started to perform an experiment of Darwinism on their own in the shared refrigerator in the lab, so some of his colleague's things had looked more appetizing. (This is, of course, not long after the conversation turned argument turned begrudging agreement that not all refrigerating devices are acceptable for storing things not meant for human consumption. But isn't easier to replace a Hoagie than it does vital organ tissue? Whatever.)

The point is a brain that works as hard as his needs something a little more than the same rations day in and day out. His mind needs variety and excitement in forms of puzzles, problems, and proteins, although he's feeling more like the quick burst of carbohydrates. Which he knows shouldn't come in the form of a Twinkie, but damn if he can't choose the way he dies.

Of course, as if all contractors had the same idea--or perhaps there's just one really skinny guy out there picking up all the lucrative convenience store and gas station deals--the aisles are cramped, over-packed, and not the easiest to navigate. Newt grabs the slow death that high-fructose corn syrup provides and takes a step back and onto something that isn't the floor. ]

--Oh sh--...sorry!

postcog

The library is...impressive. Not like her own, the Great Library, carved into a mountain and full of hidden passages (and deadly creatures). Still, it's full of books she has never seen. None of them have magic in them, but all the new information she was finding made it up for it in spades. Lirael had never read about the things she was reading now, and such as her curiosity she could very well ignore the fact she had found herself on a weird place, most likely away from the Glacier. Or maybe she entered a room that had another library inside? It could happen.

Noises blur out, people blur out. It's just her and the books. She likes it that way; silent, neat, ordered. If she focuses on it she can spend a little longer in here without freaking out.

Not freaking out is very important.

endingtime

She shouldn't feel bad about it, but she did anyway. She was a member of Department 0, so she assumed she could be trusted with things, but her superior hadn't let her see the body. Normally Mayu would be glad about it—it wasn't like she wants to see a dead body—but she hadn't even been allowed to check if the injuries were magically-induced. It wouldn't even take that long, and she'd only see the body for a second. On top of that, she'd been sent away without being given anything to do, leaving Mayu to walk dejectedly back to the police station, clutching her phone just in case someone from the department changed their mind.

She'd been with the department for months already... it was time for something to change. It isn't like she's asking for heavy assignments or anything, but lately, she hadn't done very much that was useful. She had to prove herself....

That was what she was thinking when suddenly, a gigantic billboard fell down in front of her. "Huh? Wha—?"

albafruhling

[[Minor spoilers all the way from Ch2/S2/Vol2 and is set sometime after the anime's finale.]]

Setting: A forest in between towns, in the middle of the night

Alba awakens to the memory of Ross' (... or should it be Creasion's?) disappearance.

It was all crisp and clear to him still; the way the sun beat down on them, the way the wind picked up bits of sand and got it into his mouth whenever he so much as opened it, and that smile... oh god, that smile. It was the first time Alba's ever seen the soldier give him something so pure and genuine, and whenever his mind returned to it, Alba's chest began to ache.

He rubbed his tired eyes; it's still a long ways away until sunrise, the fire he had set up continuing to dance brilliantly in front of him. This was becoming a problem, these nightmares that plagued him. Granted, they weren't anything serious, but if he continued to have sleepless nights like this, he was gonna end up being monster fodder.

"If I could, just one more time..." He murmured, staring into the flames for a moment before pulling his blanket closer; closing his eyes as the night's bitter chill nipped at his nose. He needed to sleep if he wanted to make it to the city by nightfall the next day, but with his head bustling about like this there was no way he was going to fall asleep anytime soon.

Suddenly, he heard a rustling in the distance. Huh. The fire should be keeping the monsters and animals away. Could it be one of the twelve demons? He swallowed, shoving his blanket to the side as he quietly picked his sword up.

"... H... Hello?" He spoke into the darkness, knees trembling.

Current Mood: tired

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....

digsruins

As much as Lara loved to skim through auction houses and see what was available online that piqued her interest or was something that could lead to a greater adventure, there was also something to be said for those small hole-in-the-wall antique stores. Not the big garish ones that boasted of Queen Anne chairs or apothecary tables. No, Lara preferred the ones whose windows were dusty enough that you had to enter the store if you wanted to see what it held. They generally had things that had been lost to the ages, manned by someone who might be considered an antique themselves. The dingier the store, the better the treasure they held.

Not to say that a majority of what collected dust on the shelves wasn't junk or very good knock offs, but once in a while, she found something that had the collector and adventurer in her soaring, something that made her pulse jump when she saw it and inevitably reached for it.

She was hoping for just such a find as she stepped through the door of one such store she'd spied, the bell jangling like a broken chime above her as she stepped in. She had to pause at the door for her eyes to adjust to the gloom inside, but she was hoping that this little deviation would be worthwhile.

envy_the_nayme

Max Payne sits alone on a crummy stool in a crummy bar in a crummy part of Hoboken, New Jersey. Outside, dirty snow drifts down like ash from the sky. Inside, the lights are dim, the music is faint and scratchy, the floor looks like it was last cleaned during the Clinton administration. An ashtray filled with crushed, smouldering, used-up cigarettes sits in front of him. The tobacco is also crummy: cheap cigs for a cheap place.

The only thing in the joint with any kind of class is the half-empty bottle of scotch Max has next to him. It’s the high-quality stuff, high potency too. Max has been working his way through it for about two hours now. He pours himself a glass, and stares morosely into it as though it holds all the answers. Then he drinks the answers, decides he doesn’t like what they reveal to him, and lights another cigarette as he contemplates his next move. Inevitably, his next move involves pouring another glass. He’s got a system down, a routine. Life is meaningless if you don’t give it any structure.

Max isn’t what anybody would ever call a sociable drinker, or person for that matter, but tonight something (probably the scotch) makes him start talking. He’s not speaking to anyone in particular, just wondering aloud. Maybe he’s hoping for better answers than the drink has been giving him.

"Friend of mine said something to me once," he says, his voice flat and dry. "If the only choice you've got is to do the wrong thing, then maybe it’s not actually wrong, maybe it’s just fate. Something like that." It’s not an exact quote, he’s paraphrasing as best he can. Memory is the enemy to Max, a monster he tries to keep at arm’s length so it can’t rip him to shreds. "I used to think that was just crap he used to excuse himself when he screwed people over. But maybe..."

Maybe there are no choices. Maybe life is a one-way train track, speeding people toward their inevitable derailment. Maybe there’s just enough free will in the world to justify guilt and regret, but not enough to actually change things.

These aren’t easy words to for anyone to speak, especially someone halfway through a bottle. Max trails off, then shakes his head, losing his train of thought. “Ah, forget it.”

He resumes his routine.

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.

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.]

eskalated

[A]
Eska couldn't be called one for much of what was thought of as the typical female hobbies. Her clothing was chiefly in the style traditional to the Water Tribes and she had no taste for seeking out other outfits. Her own was sufficient for her needs and displayed rank well enough so why should she? Shoes bore the same conclusion as clothing. Jewelry brought her some minor pleasure but given training, wearing much in the way of baubles was useless. One must be free to 'flow like water' and so it was the same with her. Food was food and one could only eat so much.

Thus marketplaces tended to hold little pleasure for the apathetic young woman. Today though was apparently a day of distractions and one would find Eska lingering before a store front window in thought. What was she looking at precisely?

[B]
"Guard to your left! You're too open!"

Eska's words are quick and clipped, flung out sharply as she moves into her next stance. Thought this moment was simply practice, a glance at the woman could find that she held this fight as serious as any other. Her eyes are icier, her expression firm and resolute. If she were simply playing around it would be one thing but now she's obviously trying to test her opponent's limits.

"You're too slow!" At that a tendril of water snapped in the air dangerously close to the other person, sharp enough to be more a whip than a mere flow of suspended water.

Eska is a rather brutal training partner.

[C]
[OOC: Feel free to pick your own scenario. Please stick to prose. :3]

[D]
( NSFW; Domination; )

just_echoes

(A)

You are a client of the Dollhouse and you've chosen Echo to be your own personal... what? Student? Date? Maid? Rocket scientist? All of the above? You choose the "fantasy" and Echo will be it.

(B)

You work FOR the Dollhouse as a handler or one of the oh so kind staff members who work hard to make sure the Actives stay as healthy and content as always. Or maybe you're another Active. Echo is between engagements for the moment but she seems to be acting a little differently than normal. She seems more aware. She's saying things the other Actives don't understand. What do you do?

(C)

Echo enjoyed being free - both mentally and physically. Her mind may be crowded but at least she was aware of it. It was a significant improvement on the wiped state she'd been living in before the changes started. She took a deep breath of fresh air, determined to enjoy one of her last days of peace before they returned to the Dollhouse. They had a lot of work to do but that didn't mean she wasn't going to enjoy life a little.

She stopped at a local florist, leaning down to give the roses a sniff. Smiling, she touched the petals with her fingertips for a moment before straightening to continue down the sidewalk. Unfortunately she'd let herself get so distracted by the flowers that she got careless. When she turned she ran right into someone walking behind her.

She fumbled, trying to hold onto them to keep them both upright. With a laugh she smiled sheepishly, "I'm sorry, I didn't see you there."

darkanddreamless

"A deal with the devil... I should have known."

In an expanse of wilderness that seems vast, almost endless, sits a young girl. Though she can't be more than perhaps 13 years old, there seems to be a great and heavy sadness surrounding her. Cradled protectively in her small, white hands is a pale lotus flower, its petals closed.

"Abigail... are you there? Can you hear me...?"

She calls to someone who doesn't seem to be there. It's very nearly ironic, considering she seems entirely unaware of the presence of the very real and physically manifested person approaching her...

[A NOTE: though the OP is prose, if you'd like to reply with brackets, feel free. I'm up for either.]

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?

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.]

highflyin

( Read more... )

[ooc: I'm sorry I'm breaking in the comm with this post I'm so sorry but I really do want to practice writing him since his dialogue is uh... unique.... For male characters who want to thread! there's a trigger warning for threats of sexual violence so please keep this in mind! ]

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Entries tagged with type: fandom

Canon: Red Vs Blue.

Canon: Nichijou

You can nerd/troll online or have the misfortune of dealing with him in person!

Setting is a library | Canon is The Old Kingdom Trilogy Series

setting is a modern city

Canon is Senyuu

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

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

setting: modern city

Setting: Antique Store

[CW: Alcoholism] Setting: A Jersey Bar, Night

[action]

location: city hall

PG13; possible alcohol?

[CW: NSFW Scenario] i may be bad but i'm perfectly good at it

Echo | Dollhouse - Multiple choice! (canon point is during s2e7)

Wendy, from the game Don't Starve. PG for now; possible discussion of death and suicide.

R for language

rating for extremely probable body horror. canon is Franken Fran

hell yeah

TW: the smoothest jazz

tw for post: violence, manipulation, achohol/drug use, setting is the gta canon

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