(no subject)

[hackitude]

WHO: Everyone
WHERE: Everywhere!
WHEN: All day Sunday
WHAT: Dreampost fallout + mingling
WARNINGS: ???

Wow. How about them dreams last night? Did everyone sleep well?

Maybe your character doesn't remember anything and is just going about their day as normal. Maybe they're in an inexplicably good or bad mood when they wake up, though they can't put their finger on why. Maybe they remember everything... well, it's up to you.

By the way, if you read the paper today, there's a news item on page 2 of the newspaper about a minor chemical spill yesterday at a power plant that somehow got into the water system. The journalist stresses that the chemical is totally safe and harmless for humans to ingest, but that it may interact strangely with nanites. ImPorts suffering from any strange side-effects should see their doctor.

Comments

open to residence 2/anybody who might be there!

[brushoff]

Well Dorian's feeling funky. He spends most of the day in the house, laying about, because he's a goddamn freeloader with no job, flipping through books that don't really seem to be Dorian's style. They're dense and wordy books on science, that he's checked out from the library. His face alternates between bored and confused as he reads. He can't remember much from last night, but one thing sticks out in his mind: dinosaurs. And because that sticks out in his mind, Dorian briefly realizes that he knows absolutely nothing abut dinosaurs. So, reading it is.

And then Dorian quickly figures out that these science books are doing jack shit, that his absolute lack of any sort of scientific education is hampering him greatly and that even though he can read Latin, that doesn't mean that these dinosaur names give an accurate description about what the beasts do. He's up a creek without a paddle.

Whenever one of his housemates walks past, Dorian waves them over, small frown on his face, marking his place in whatever big science book he's reading by slipping in a piece of newspaper. "Do you know anything about dinosaurs? Specifically the really small ones--and no, I don't know their names."

[viced]

Mitchell never sleeps, not really. A few brief hours in the night, but that was it. Long enough to replenish a tank that was perpetually running on empty, before he filled it with just enough fuel to get him through the day, and he was awake. He couldn't sleep any longer than that, at the very least.

Especially with how much was jumbled in his head. How much bounced around in there, how many familiar faces did he see?

He went straight for the coffee pot, although with Dorian in the room, he responded automatically. "Shit, how small are we fuckin' talking? Like the little com -- comp somethings?"

[brushoff]

Dorian, in contrast, stays out late and sleeps in the next morning. Now that he doesn't have a job, he can often be found staggering back to the apartment at three am, getting up at one pm the next morning. Today was an exception. Despite the fact that he went to bed relatively late last night, those weird dreams were keeping him up today.

"I don't know what a comp-something is." Dorian Gray: sucks at dinosaurs. "But small, like about yea high," he said, gesturing to about waist level. "Not huge, like brontosaurses or t-rexes are. But about dog height."

[viced]

"The fuck do you want to know that for?" he asked, his voice still scratchy from lack of coffee. He didn't even bother to stop for food, it was straight for the place that would get him the most caffeine, the quickest. He shook his head, and shrugged.

"You might be better off googling it than asking any of us."

Although, every time he looked at Dorian, he thought there was something different. Maybe it was his goddamn imagination, though. That seemed to be getting away often enough.

[brushoff]

"Just a thought," he responded, with an eye-roll. "For some reason, I woke up this morning thinking about dinosaurs." Not entirely. For some reason, he woke up this morning thinking 'what the hell was that dream where I turned into a dinosaur.' Semantics. But semantics that he wouldn't tell Mitchell about.

Though, the idea of coffee was pretty tempting. Marking his place with a scrap of newspaper he tore off, Dorian hopped up from his seat and started rummaging around one of the cupboards for a mug.

"And really, it's not like I have anything better today, so I thought I'd read up on dinosaurs."

[viced]

With the coffee going, Mitch almost visibly relaxed, like the reminder that it was coming, so he could just hold on a little longer to the gaps where the mask started to slip. Mitch always looked tired, but this morning was more than usual. Not that he really, really had reasons, but...he felt like he'd spent the entire night running.

"How great that's gotta be, just reading whatever you want. Don't you get bored?"

Mitch honestly didn't know how anyone could stand it.

[brushoff]

"God, I get so bored," Dorian admitted, with a grumpy little sigh. He leaned against the fridge as he talked, indulging in a small little sulk. He was an immortal: getting bored was an almost daily event for him. And right now? He just couldn't stand it.

"I've been job-searching but understandably, nobody really wants to hire an ex-con, even if he is an imPort. It doesn't help that none of my powers are the flashy kind."

[viced]

"Really?" he asked, eyes surprisingly wide. Really, Mitchell wasn't surprised at all, and neither was Dorian, it seemed. Then again, the guy really should have just avoided trouble altogether, if he didn't want to deal with being a damn convict.

"That's what you get, I suppose. Sucks to be unemployed, but I guess you'll have to start your own business, or some shit. That's what a lot of people do." The successful ex-cons, anyway.

[brushoff]

"I was thinking of working more on my art. But, again, that's no way to earn a steady living." Dorian sighed, looking over towards the coffee, kind of forgetting about the whole 'watched pot never boils' thing.

"Maybe I could do graphic design or something like that. Paint album covers or advertisements."

[viced]

"You do that kind of thing often?" he asked, a little curiously. Mitchell honestly did want to show an interest in the people around him, in his people, and in what they dreamed and felt and wanted. Dorian may be his roommate, and he may be an ex-con, but he still had concerns to weigh, and maybe that was one of them.

"Are you finding it hard to go on, now that you're out? I mean -- do you think that totally changing careers is the only way to go?"

Even without coffee, the change was obvious. Something to figure out about a constituent -- no matter the reason -- always brought out that side of Mitchell that the camera caught.

[brushoff]

"I was a guidance counselor," Dorian responded, with a little laugh. A laugh that plainly stated there's no way he'd be able to go back to being a guidance counselor. "And though I'm registered, it won't be long before the government starts cracking down on the registered imPorts as well. So yeah: I need a job, I'm a halfway decent artist, why not go ahead and make a living out of it?"

Dorian, on the other hand, only made little note of Mitchell's change in demeanor. He was talking about himself. That was the best thing.

[viced]

"Well, I don't know about you, but there's sure as hell no money in art," he said simply. Mitchell, of course, had an artistic side. The artistic side was called being an architect, but he'd certainly never been the best, but he'd wanted, for a time, to be a professional comic artist. Maybe if he'd done something like that, he'd never have gotten into so much fucking trouble.

Or maybe it would have still found him.

"But if you're decent, it might work out. People like imports, right? You might be able to capitalize on that.

abigail.

[ex_question191]

[ stiles shows up outside abigail's the next evening, a little nervous because he didn't text first and he's kind of worried chilton is gonna answer the door. but he had some pretty crazy dreams last night, ones that have left him still reeling, and he kinda wants to make sure she's okay. maybe they can sleep in the same room again — or that might be too weird, given he basically broke up with her the last time they spoke. but he wants to be friends, still, which is why he brings chipotle and dvds with him, and his pillow and pjs in the car. just in case. ]

[lurings]

[ lucky lucky that abigail had been sitting on the loveseat reading when stiles pulled in so she can wander down the stairs and pull the door open, pulling her sweater tighter around herself as she hovers on the threshold, seemingly unwilling to step outside when she's barefoot. ]

Hi.

[ she only hesitates a moment before stepping back and making room for him to come inside. ]

Bad dreams?

[brushoff]

"I suppose that, for lack of a better term, I could focus on art until I actually get a proper job." This is just a bunch of people hating on artists up in this joint. But Mitchell was right. Art didn't make money. And Dorian wanted money, because money could be exchanged for goods and services, and goods and services meant clothes.

"I just don't know how long I'd be able to capitalize on import sentiment."

[diociopath]

Much like Dorian, Dio lounges around the house during the day doing nothing - but at least he has an excuse, considering he can't go out into the sun. Would he opt to lie around uselessly if he could go outside? Yes. But that isn't the important thing here!

But when he hears Dorian's question, he throws a glance towards the nearest window - his stand manifests and pulls the curtains closed, at which point Dio steps over to where Dorian is, sitting himself beside him. Shirtless, as usual, since Anita isn't around.

"I spent some time studying them." Lying around his mansion reading about them. "But it depends on what you want to know."

open to people who live with him

[ironbuttmonkey]

[Sanageyama's usually up early, but today was different - he didn't go out for his usual run before breakfast, so he's sitting at the table they eat meals at with his chin resting in his hand.

And he's just...gonna...rest his eyes for a second...

...so anyone who comes down will probably find him asleep at the table. There's an uneaten bowl of porridge sitting in front of him, but it's probably gone cold by now.]

[brushoff]

Yeah, all talk about dinosaurs vanishes from Dorian's head as he views the stand close the curtains. That's...odd. And slightly familiar. But Dorian can't place why. He takes an appreciative glance of shitless Dio, eyes lingering on his chest, before turning back to the curtains.

"I'll ask, but first--what was that? The thing that closed the curtains, is that your superpower?"

[diociopath]

...he hadn't expected that, of all things. Maybe 'how did you do that' or something, but not recognizing his Stand was behind it actually happening. Notably, his stare becomes a little more intense - curious, but in an almost suspicious manner.

"..."

The World vanishes, only to re-appear right in front of Dorian and pulls it's arm back, suddenly throwing a single punch; it'll stop at the very last second and hold it's fist in front of Dorian's face harmlessly, but he wants to see Dorian react at all.

It's obvious at this point he sees it, but is Dorian a stand user? Or something else? He wants to know. This might force a reaction.

[brushoff]

Even if he can heal, being punched in the face still hurts. And healing from being punched in the face still hurts. So, as the World reappears in front of Dorian and swings a punch, Dorian quickly bobs out of the way, giving the Stand a 'what the hell' sort of look--which then ends up looking at Dio with that same 'what the hell' expression.

"Just because I can heal, that doesn't mean I want to."

[viced]

"Probably not long enough, huh?" he asked, a wry smile on his face. "Believe me, it's a shit line to work in. That's why I went into something a bit more technical --" he waved a hand.

"Don't let anyone fool you, though; there's not a lot of money in that either, unless you're Frank Lloyd Wright, and there aren't many of those fuckers lying around. You might want to look for imports for a job. We've been pretty damn good at employing our own over the years."

[brushoff]

"In that case, are you hiring?" It's said with a dumb sort of grin on his face that halfway says he's being trouble but seriously. Mitchell has a position where he might have people working under him, he might be hiring.

[viced]

He laughed, and shook his head. "Not quite yet, I'm afraid." Honestly, Mitch was still getting his platform together. He didn't like to take too much time, but less than a year was quick for even him to jump onto the campaign trail.

"I might need help for campaign posters, here soon. Ed -- " he paused, and shook his head. "My former Deputy Mayor said I needed to work on my image and slogans a lot."

[diociopath]

"Dorian."

He pushes himself up like he's going to stand, but instead of fully rising rests a knee on the couch and leans forward. He's got one hand on the arm of the chair behind Dorian while another rests on the back of it at the other side, effectively blocking him from moving. There are probably a bunch of comparisons you could make here to an animal looming over it's prey here, because despite their position it certainly doesn't look like he has any ideas for this going the way their usual encounters do.

"You can see my stand. So I'm only going to ask this once; if you tell me the truth, this will all go smoothly."

A very intentional, measured pause.

"Do you also possess a ⌜stand⌟ ?"

[brushoff]

A stand. The familiarity hits him like a ton of bricks. Despite the fact that Dio is looming over Dorian, Dorian just can't help but look a bit confused, paying more attention to his own inner thoughts than to Dio. "That's the dinosaur thing in my dream," he muttered, more to himself but loud enough for Dio to here. "He called it a stand." This couldn't be a coincidence. Two people mentioning stands in less than a day. The only thing now is, what did it mean?

But there was a question. Looking up at Dio, Dorian shook his head. "But no. I don't have a stand. I'm special in other ways, which might explain why I can see it, but I don't have a stand. I didn't even know what it was before last night."