TEST DRIVE MEME #1

[penancemods]

ARRIVAL

You remember a dream.

Or maybe nightmare is more accurate.

It was full of hellfire nipping at your skin and a sensation of being pulled down no matter how much you struggle or cry for help. There's a voice that feels like it's coming from all around you at once. Contrasting with the nightmare unfolding around you, it's smooth as silk. It makes you want to listen with every bit of attention you can muster in the moment.

"Judgement has come upon you, but not to worry. It can still be undone."

The voice promises you redemption for your sins. It promises you a better life and everything you could ever want, if only you just stop struggling so much.

And so you do.



Everyone wakes up in the same room initially. The room is done up in red with a cushy bed, a window, an old TV in the corner on a desk, and a few Hieronymus Bosch paintings lining the wall. There's a bathroom to clean up in and any belongings will be sat around the room to be gathered later. There's a duffel bag provided for your convenience.

After feeling a sensation of falling or dropping onto the bed, characters wake up feeling like they've just slept for a week. Their body will feel heavy and stiff, they'll have a massive headache at first.

They'll quickly notice the list of their sins written with their blood on a bedside table on an old piece of parchment. This will mean the list is tied to them and can't be changed or tampered with. They'll also receive their device to connect with others and the network. It won't be anything terribly fancy. As a matter of fact, it looks like a very old Blackberry type phone.



Once characters are ready to leave the room, they'll head down long, winding halls. They're dimly lit and ominous feeling. They may encounter fellow sinners or demonic staff that will direct the newcomer down to the lobby to get their actual room key to settle in. They may be pushy, they may border on courteous. It really just depends on the mood of the staff at the time and how they're treated in return. Eventually, everyone comes to stairs that lead downward.



Once down to the lobby, you'll notice the front desk manned by a demon who looks bored out of its mind. To the side of him is the door to the kitchen where guests may help themselves. To the right is a small duty free shop that seems to have a surprisingly normal, expected stock of items. Look around a bit further, there will be a tiny bar tucked in through a corner door. It seems pretty well-stocked and best of all, self-serve if you want to get away from your demonic hosts for a bit. Of course there's some seating, bar games, and a jukebox tucked in the corner if you'd rather stay and socialize a bit.

Please note that all the songs on the jukebox are appropriately hell-themed. Hopefully Sympathy for the Devil is universally loved.



STAND YOUR GROUND

Prompt I

The hotel is undergoing some improvements already! Thanks to the new arrival of sinners, hell has a burst of energy and growth available to it. One demand of the demonic staff was the addition of elevators. It gets tiresome having to take the stairs all the time. They'll eagerly implore you to help them test out this new system, even going so far as shoving you right in the nearest available elevator with whoever else is in the vicinity.

Unfortunately, things aren't quite up to par just yet. Press a button and you'll find your elevator gets jammed between floors with very little chance of escape. Oh, oops. This is entirely the hotel's fault and will be fixed as soon as possible. In the meantime, enjoy your company and try to relax a bit.

It's definitely a high priority repair for staff, promise.

Prompt II

Maybe you were looking for the hotel gym to work off some stress or maybe you just took a wrong left somewhere, but instead of what you were expecting, you stumble across what appears to be a very well stocked torture room. There are tables with straps to hold down victims, chains falling from the walls and ceilings to bind them upright, and absolutely every possible torture device you can think of. There's even an iron maiden proudly displayed in the corner. Besides that, there's the normal supply of whips, knives, and any other equipment someone could want to inflict the most delicious pain available.

You're free to check it out or give it a go. You're also free to back out of the room very slowly, but with the knowledge this space will probably come into play at some point.

Oh, and a tip: the gym is to the right of this room.

REACH UP HIGH

Prompt I
Warnings: cutting, blood, torture.

After settling in, it really is only a matter of time until your demonic hosts expect some participation. You can try and shirk the responsibility, of course. But eventually, you may find yourself trapped in a room just off the kitchen that's curiously full of knives. You can try the door, but even with super human strength or every lock picking skill in the book, you won't be able to open it.

It becomes apparently what you're supposed to do soon enough when someone else is eventually shoved in with you. Both of your lists of in will appear in the room on a nearby table with two handy knives. You can choose to guard these or not care at all that they're on display.

"Know that honesty is a good place to start on your road to redemption. Sure, it can be terrifying at first, but that's why you've been given a partner in this journey. Pick up your knives and carve one of your sins into the other's flesh. Help them in their journey to be candid with everyone they should meet here!"

The voice echoes all around you again, just like in the nightmare, and once again there's the pull to give in. This voice really does seem like it has your best interests at heart.

"If you need a bit of encouragement, we'll be giving it shortly."

It isn't a lie or idle threat either. The longer you wait to do what's been requested of you, the more shallow cuts that will appear on both of your bodies. Are you really prepared to endure this pain when giving in would be so much easier?

And more than that, are you willing to let another suffer along with you?

Eventually, the cuts will stop if you suffer them long enough, but you'll have failed this challenge and sustained more damage than if you'd just gone along with it. Satan will also be very disappointed in you.

Prompt II

Well, that last punishment was a bit heavy, wasn't it? Or maybe you somehow skipped out on it all together. Fortunately for you, there's a less horrible one to get potentially wrapped up in along the way. You'll hear that all too familiar voice ringing in your ears as you explore the halls of the hotel or poke your head outside.

"Do one genuinely kind deed for someone and we'll consider it a step in the right direction for you."

This can be helping one of your fellow sinners out with a task or helping them find something. It can be a shoulder or a listening ear towards someone who needs it. You can even offer to help the staff clean up a bit around the hotel, or help a poor hell beast pup out of the hellfire around Penance. Careful though, even they have pretty sharp teeth and an aggressive attitude. It doesn't matter what you do as long as it helps someone else out.

Oh, and one more thing! The longer you resist, the more aches you'll notice. It'll start with a mild headache and escalate from there. You can wait it out, of course, and pills may help you cope with the pain if you really can't be bothered to do one nice deed. Although Satan is still very disappointed in you.

FOLLOW ME DOWN

Prompt I
Warnings: Alcohol and drug abuse, potential non-con/dub-con.

With all the new sinners arriving, this feels like a call for celebration! The bar will be lit up with activity. Food and drinks will be readily available and provided by hotel staff (although they might not always know what humans eat. What do you mean you don't like fried kitten?), music will be blaring, and overall, there will be an energy to the atmosphere that's absolutely contagious. Even if you aren't typically inclined to linger at these sorts of events, there will be a certain pull.

One drink won't hurt, right? Nor will one more after that.

There will also be every sort of party drug available that might tickle your fancy. There's no harm in experimenting, is there? You're already in hell.

And you've presumably done your atonement for the day, yes? So cut back a bit.

Ask the staff demons very nicely and you may even get less scrupulous drugs. Things that will convince your fellow damned souls to tell the truth or perhaps even things that will make someone so enamored with you, they won't take their eyes off you. How dare they give you the cold shoulder earlier, right?

There are also tables set up for all sorts of gambling and various bar games to entertain yourself with.

Relax and enjoy your first night in hell. Coming here and facing your sins is the hard part, so surely you deserve to have a little fun, right?

Prompt II
Warnings: sex, aphrodisiacs, potential kinks.


Much like the hotel improvements inside, all these new sinners seem to have given hell the ability to open a new building just outside the hotel. It happens to be quite a happening sex club from the looks of it. Everything is bathed in obnoxious neon lights when you first enter the establishment. There's plenty of space for dancing, and poles for those so inclined. Mood music fills the air, along with something a little too sweet.

As tacky as it is, something may pull you to stay.

Whether experienced lover or total virgin, once pulled in, you may not want to leave for a while.

There are back rooms people can go for a bit of private fun, full of every type of toy and restraint that you could possibly desire to play with. There's also a rather large room with a massive bed that seems to be fit for any orgies you may want to try to arrange. Hell's not judging and may be encouraging a bit.

There are aphrodisiac laced food and drinks available around the club as well, but these will most likely be marked. If one slips through, ah well. Why else are you here if not for a bit of fun? The drugs will only help that out.

Of course outside, this club is clearly marked for what it is and anyone who would rather avoid it are free to do so.

MISC.

Thank you for checking out penancerp's first TDM! Please note that all prompts are opt-out and players are more than welcome to come up with their own ideas while exploring the hotel and hell outside.

All that we ask is that you remember to put clear warnings on any potentially triggering content! Warn for sex, including underage or incest, violence, abuse, non-con, etc. Please put these warning in a visible place, either by the prompt itself or in the subject line. This isn't just a suggestion but a requirement to participate in the game.

Now that all that's out of the way, we hope you have fun! Feel free to ask questions under the appropriate comment before or on the FAQ page. Since this is the game's first TDM, we are also very interested in hearing any suggestions you have or ways to improve the game experience.

Since this is a big event, Lucifer himself will be taking a few questions via his device for anyone so inclined down below.

As a final note, don't forget that reserves are open now until May 1st as well!


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Comments

QUESTIONS, COMMENTS, SUGGESTIONS

[penancemods]

Please ask any questions or leave any comments here and the mods will get back to you as soon as possible!

[number3]

What happens if, say, someone were to try and disable/ruin most of the torture room in stand your ground prompt 2?

NPC - Lucifer

[odaystar]

[Feel free to send a text, voice or video message to your host.]

[Text]

[not_my_brothers_keeper]

Greetings Lucifer-sama,

You have mentioned redemption from our sins and a promise for a better life, but I am curious about something. How do you ensure a better life and at what cost? I find it difficult to accept such generosity without some sort of price tag attached to it.

Ramsay Bolton / GOT

[veneries]

Reach up high - Prompt I
Definitely warnings for violence and blood and stabbing and someone enjoying all of those things.

[Carving one's sins into a partner? It must be Christmas.

The disembodied voice fades away as Ramsay's eyes are drawn to the table with lists of sins and knives on it. He doesn't care about the lists, but his eyes light up and he looks just like a happy child about to unwrap a long-expected present at the sight of the sharp cold steel.]

Well. [Whatever size you are, Ramsay looks back at you with delight. It's the look a butcher would give a lump of meat he's going to make some lovely steak out of. He strolls over to the table.] I've always thought it was very important to be truthful. Honestly is what makes the world turn, after all.

[Turning his back on you, he picks up one of the knives and tests it on his thumb. With only the slightest pressures a drop of blood appears; his grindens and he turns back to face his partner.]

Now, hold out your arm and let's get started. There are a lot of these sins on my list to get through.

[behaviours]

[ This is the deepest of the seven hells. She's sure of it. Being in the same room as Ramsay is enough to turn her stomach, but to see him with that knife in his hand--to find that they're instructed to carve into one another's skin, as if he has not already carved enough into her with a different weapon, makes her dizzy with loathing. Sick with it.

Only when she spots the ruby droplet of his blood bead on the tip of his thumb does she begin to return to herself. She had thought she wouldn't hear his voice again, believed herself free of him and all of her demons. Now she is trapped with them.

Sansa takes up her knife. ]

You first. [ It is nigh impossible to adopt the appropriate amount of disaffected malice without revealing how petrified she really is to be here, but she perseveres. That is what she does. Like stone, she withstands. ]

John Constantine | DCTV | OTA

[conjobs]

1. Arrival
Oh fuck.

Not like this.

This is not how he was going to go - not that he'd had it all planned out, but he wasn't ready, and he was certain he could still buy and prank and cheat his way out of this, and-

And... is he on a bed? John jolts upright and instantly regrets it, burying his face in his hands, rubbing tiredly. He hasn't had a hangover this bad since last week. He doesn't notice the list or the phone when he tries to crawl out of bed and ends up on the floor, struggling to get back on all fours and scramble out of the room.

He had a dream like this once. Only it was a nicer hotel room with a glass of whiskey on the nightstand and there was a succubus writhing in his lap and this doesn't feel like a dream.

The man masquerading as a zombie shambles down the long hallway, following the light until one door flung open slams right in his face and knocks him back onto his arse, making his headache infinitely worse as the floor gets pulled out from under him.

"...I'm fine," he groans breathlessly, sprawled out on his back on the carpet.


2. Stand Your Ground I (John is everysexual 16+)
"Well... looks like it's just you and me mate, stuck in this elevator for a wee while."

And the winner of the A+ pickup line award goes to the blond idiot with his hands shoved in his trenchcoat pockets, trying his best not to grin loitering in the back corner of the lift.


3. Reach Up High I (CWs for cutting/blood)
It takes John maybe twenty minutes of breaking things into the door lock before giving up. Getting to stay in some rickety old hotel and getting to make out in some rickety old elevator was too good to be true.

"Agh, fuck-" He pulls his hand back as a cut forms on his skin and thin rivulets of blood ooze out from the wound. Turning his head to glance back at his knife, he tries his best not to make eye contact with the other person stuck in the room, eyes darting around as his mind cycles through all possible ways they could both escape intact. John's list of sins is about as long as a toilet roll - murder, theft, lying, lying about his profession and his vices and his relationships, lying with married people, sloth, pride, envy - none of those things anyone would want cut into their skin.

"Fucking... Red!" As if he can safeword out of this mess. He loves a good kinky shag but getting locked in some deathtrap with a couple of knives and some prick is some next level messed up shite.


4. Wildcard
(Choose your own adventure!)

3

[thischaos]

It takes Mello twenty minutes of watching the spectacle with nothing short of an amused sort of expression. If guilt were on the menu, he would feel slightly off about going after someone who clearly wants nothing to do with this situation.

But.

Rules are rules, right? Besides, he doesn't really care for being all cut up because someone else is stalling.

"You'll be redder if we don't get this over with." Subdued. Acceptance comes at odd times. He toys with the tip of his blade, head bowed. Teeth worry his inner lip. This is sinning. Attacking a man who has no intention of attacking first.

Nice play, Lucifer.

"You've gotta fight me, though."

That's just the way of it.

"I won't have you begging for mercy and making a criminal out of me, yea?"

Mello || Death Note

[thischaos]

Stand Your Ground - Prompt I

[The thing is: Mello's always had a healthy fear of elevators. Not the sort of fear stemming from heights or the possibility of being trapped in one, no. A legitimate fear of being cornered, and so he's always opted for stairs. Even on the eleventh floor of a New York City Flat where the trek had the ability to wind even someone like him.]

[Now? Well. You'll find him tucked into the right-most corner, large sunglasses obscuring a good portion of his face while he idly pretends to peruse the mobile device while taking in the people around him. The reason? He remembers dying, and wherever this is — whatever this is — you can't kill someone who's already dead, right?]

[Right?]

Oi —

[To everyone and no one when the elevator jars hard enough to jolt him from the wall. He grasps at a handle, a shoulder, whatever's in reach. Was that your arm? Well. He's not letting go any time soon; Mello has a habit of going 0-100 when in a compromised situation.]

Nobody speak.

[The leather-clad, blonde thing grunting behind his teeth is kind of used to shelling out orders. He cranes his neck up at the top of the door; either they're jammed or this thing will plummet. The door, then the ceiling — do those panels pop off as easily as they do in movies? Time to find out.]

Someone get down. I need your shoulders.


Reach Up High - Prompt I

[It's written into Mello's DNA to be a secretive thing; he'll guard his sins as steadfastly as he'll guard his own name. Doesn't matter that he's surmised by now that this is some form of Hell, doesn't matter that this fact makes everyone here a sinner by default.]

[Sinner. The word makes his stomach turn. Mello was never one for accepting his faults.]

[He makes quick work of the knives because — well — they're the only weapons he possesses. One, he tucks into the back of his pants: steel snugged tightly between bare skin and leather, and the other? Oh, he's brandishing that. If nothing else, he's always prided himself on coming off as nothing less than a threat.]

[He's watching you. Analyzing. Attempting to predict your first move. Are you afraid? Ready to take on something scarred and too dead to show any sign of self-preservation? And he's chosen his sin, the lesser of many. L I A R. He'll carve it into you like a lover's brand if you're not careful.]

We doing this or what? Haven't got all day, yea.

[Watching, calm, confident. He tilts his head to the left, cracks his neck in preparation. His heels are planted into the floor, ready to spring if necessary.]


Follow Me Down - Prompt II - (CW... possible nasty, smutty things if shit happens?)

[To suggest that Mello is comfortable here would be outright bullshit, but he's always been a restless thing. Curious to a fault. Reckless beyond measure. Losing a war he was groomed to win has been itching at his neck, his soul since the realization of his own death before this 'life' hit him like a fist to the temple.]

[So he walks into a sex club — so what? He's earned something for all of this, hasn't he? — with all of the feline grace he'd trained himself in life to exude. Slips around patrons without regard for anyone who crosses his path. No matter his situation, no matter the setting, Mello will always perpetually exist with his head so far up his ass that everything else might as well be pure darkness.]

[The lights, though. Are they necessary? It reminds him of some of the strip clubs where his guys conducted meetings back in Los Angeles. Mello never did care for them, but he had bigger things on his mind at the time. Dressed to the nines — of course he is — he slips into a far-back corner. Even in death, he has a thing about leaving his back exposed. His face? The same. Anyone who notices him might find it odd that he chooses to leave his sunglasses on. Easier to peruse the patrons once he settles in. Doesn't matter that it might be off-putting for some.]

[Oh, those aphrodisiac-laced foods that might have slipped in with the non-tainted ones? Thanks for that. Pinched between gloved fingers is a thick, chocolate square. One that he shoves into his mouth whole; he was never one to resist indulgence when indulgence is due. Thick, sweet: it hits the spot before he even swallows, cleaning his teeth with the tip of his tongue and — ]

Oh.

[Oh. Who. are. you? With a click of his tongue against the top of his mouth, he pushes his glasses up over his hair. Takes one step. Two. Confidence has always been one of his stronger points.]

Make you a deal.

[Paying attention? Well, pay attention]

I'll tell you my sins if you tell me yours.

[With a playful lilt to his words. No, he won't. But who even uses pickup lines when everyone is here of their own accord?]


Wildcard!

[Wanna do something else? Feel free to PM or hit me up on Plurk. We'll plot something out!]

Stand Your Ground

[pococurante]

[ Somehow, he was able to obtain the ingredients for a prairie oyster. He's convinced himself this has helped. But he hasn't found any cigarettes, which is a problem.

The problem is compounded by the broken elevator and the bossy short guy trying to climb on him. ]

Get your own shoulders.

[ He shrugs the kid off. And steps over to the door, knocking it lightly with the back of his knuckles. ]

Viserys Targaryen | ASoIaF/GoT

[undragoned]

stand your ground - i

I told you not to touch me with your filthy -- AH!

[Viserys is shoved to the back of the elevator and he immediately grabs onto the rail. Everything about this place, from the decor to the technology to the music, is so completely foreign and off-putting. This box isn't any different.

He still has his new communication device held tightly in one hand, though he doesn't know it's a communication device. All he knows is that it's something important and he's going to unlock its secrets no matter what.

He doesn't have a chance to address whoever else is in the elevator with him before it starts moving. Still gripping the rail with one arm, he falls down hard onto his backside with a very undignified squawk, eyes wide.]

What's happening?

ii.

[Staring at the devices before him, Viserys nearly backs out of the room. But he stops himself, glancing around to see if there's anyone else inside. When it appears the coast is clear he steps in quickly and makes a beeline for the weapons on the table. Whatever their uses here, he's going to need something to arm himself with.

He did not, however, check to see if there was anyone in the hallway behind him before he began his pilfering.]

reach up high - ii.

[Tilting his head upward, Viserys raises his own voice in response as if that'll do him any good.]

I think I've done a kind enough deed just putting up with half these fools!

[He follows this up with a disgruntled and wordless grumble. Do a nice deed, as though he's back in school again being told to mind his manners. To be friendly to those less fortunate them himself. Well there are few less fortunate than himself right now, so shouldn't he be the one having good deeds done for him?

Maybe someone will drop something on the floor and he can be a nice man and pick it up for them. Surely that would count.]

follow me down - i

[Finally.

He'd begun to believe they were going to be endlessly put through tasks for the rest of their stay here, but it's good to see they're allowed a break. Perhaps they believe torture loses some of its sting when it goes on forever, and they're likely right. He's not going to complain. He's done enough of that already today to last a lifetime.

Viserys sits down and immediately accepts whatever food and drink he's given without asking what it is. It smells good, and anything has to be better than the slop the Dothraki served - even food in some ghoulish afterlife.

Now if only the music wasn't so loud and the lights not so... flashy.

As nice as this is, the blond can still spare a moment to be irritated with anyone who might sit next to him.]

There are other seats. If you don't mind, I'd like my space.

[That's far more pleasant that he has to be to any rabble who would dare sit beside a king.]

Stand your ground - i.

[thischaos]

[Yeah, he gets it. Mello isn't exactly keen on being stuck in an elevator, either. He's going to show the same annoyance in a different way. What he's not gonna do is throw a ...tantrum.]

[Mello's braced as tightly against the wall, half-hunched, as he can manage. If this thing breaks and goes down, there's really nothing either of them can do to soften the impact to an acceptable level.]

My guess is that we were naive enough to get into an elevator in the pit of Hell and expected a smooth ride.

[Muttered. Don't worry; he's pretty sure he can find a way out. Maybe.]

Helps if you brace yourself and don't flop about. Wouldn't have landed on your ass so hard.

[Sorry, he's grouchy. Being out of his element and all. Of course, he has an idea. Thinking on his feet is kind of his thing. A beat of silence; Mello rubs just beneath his dark glasses with the tip of his finger, clears his throat for effect.]

You any good at climbing?

[Why risk his own ass when he can risk someone else's?]

Spike Spiegel | Cowboy Bebop

[pococurante]

Arrival

[ Bang.

Spike awakens from the dream in a bed. A real bed, not a shabby couch or the grimy floor of the old ship. The parchment unrolls... and unrolls... and unrolls. A quick glance reveals mostly murder, extortion, torture, assault, theft, general mayhem, sins of omission. Nothing unexpected. He tosses it aside and rises stiffly. The headache is expected, though there are other pains that are not there. The gunshot wound on his side is gone. He wanders about the room, examining everything, looking for his guns. He finds a phone. A really, really old one. ]

Piece of Earth junk.

[ He fires off a text into the ether. ]

Anybody know where I can get some eggs?

Stand Your Ground II

[ This shit is weird. Spike examines everything impassively. Keeping up his awareness of the room and everything in it and around him. He just wants to get a workout in, see if he has any lingering damage or weakness from the latest death.

There's somebody behind him. He doesn't tense up or turn around. ]

Whatever shit these people are into, it's pretty intense for a spar.

Follow Me Down II

[ He got cigarettes, which is good. One less thing to distract him. His posture is as casual as ever, hands in pockets, as he strolls nonchalantly through the club. It's good to get a lay of the land. Figure out what is going on, who's really running the show. The sooner he gets his bearings, the sooner he'll be able to start figuring out what he's going to do.

He slouches against the bar and orders a beer. Nothing extra, though who knows if they listened to that. He sips it and surveys the crowd. He's not in a huge hurry to talk to anybody. But if somebody approaches him, he's also not in a hurry to snub them. ]

Wildcard!

[ Hit me with your best shot. Also, will match format ]

( network )

[exasperation]

The fridge?

Do we have fridges??

Billy Kaplan | Marvel 616 (CRAU) | ota

[noassgardian]

ARRIVAL

Billy has dreamed of hell before. He's been there, too.

That doesn't make the idea of going there permanently any less horrifying though. Bill thrashes against the invisible force, begs and curses and wishes. It figures that the wishes he always wants to come true, the magic he really wants to cast simply never works for him.

"IwanttowakeupnowIwanttowakeupnow..."

Well, maybe it's unfair to say his magic didn't work at all. He definitely wakes up... on a mattress, somewhere not at all like the last place he'd been. Brows furrow as he pushes himself up. He ends up wincing when his palm pulls at the movement, looking down at it to see the wound cut across it.

"Ow..."

He notices the list and the phone soon enough. The really, really ancient phone. Pulling a face, he grabs it with his good hand. Hopefully this place has an open network people are actually paying attention to.

voice;
"Um, is anyone out there?"

Stand Your Ground I

He didn't appreciate being manhandled into an elevator he didn't even want to try. He really didn't appreciate getting stuck in said elevator after said shoving and protesting.

"So, now I guess we know why they didn't want to test this out themselves, huh?"

Well, this is awkward. He gives a wry look to his companion. "Wanna see if we can get ourselves out of here or what?"

Reach Up High I (CW for cutting/blood)

"Hey! Open up!" Billy is not about to carve someone else up. He doesn't care what that creepy voice in his head said. Instead, he's frantically banging a fist against the closed door, clutching his list of sins in his other hand, guarding it.

Billy might brandish some of his less desirable traits like a shield to keep people out, but he's not that open. There's stuff like suicide attempts, being tainted with a demon soul, hurting others, being responsible for actual deaths... He doesn't want to share any of that.

"Stop screwing around!"

He winces when suddenly he feels a sting at his cheek, feels blood dripping down from the wound. "What the hell--"

Follow Me Down I (CW for underage drinking? Will update if anything else happens)

Billy's nerves are officially frayed after everything they've dealt with, so he finds himself stepping into the bar and grabbing a drink. He might normally be trying to mingle, but instead? He just finds himself a corner table to nurse his glass and people watch.

Well, people watch or just watch for any sign of danger or torture coming his way. He's not letting his guard down, not when he's surrounded by demons and hellfire. Nothing good can come of this.

If anyone tries to join him, he'll give a guarded, suspicious look before finally relenting. "You can sit, if you want. I don't mind..."

[ooc: Billy is a CRAU from the game Zhautas. The only noticeable differences right off the bat would be he's 19 years old now and doesn't know much about what happens in the end of Young Avengers V2. I'll match format with whatever you're comfortable with! Also open for setting up any additional prompts if you see something else you'd rather do.]

Reach Up High I

[pococurante]

Spike picks up a knife and tosses it in his hand lightly, testing the weight. With his other hand, holding the list, still in his pocket. He looks at the wall and throws the knife. It bounces off, because it's metal or something. Great. He manages to dodge and with any luck it doesn't knick the other guy.

"Alright." The cuts that are starting to form on the other guy, and him, have nothing to do with his dumb stunt. Better get this over with. He rolls up his sleeve. And pulls the scroll from his pocket, letting it unroll from his hand and onto the floor, where it keeps unrolling for a while. "Go ahead, pick one." He offers the back of his forearm. "One of the shorter ones like 'arson' would probably be better."

Lance | Voltron Legendary Defender

[number3]

Stand your ground I

[Lance leans against the elevator wall, trying not to feel too closed in. He's okay with small spaces, he really is, they just... occasionally remind him of that one time he'd rather forget.

Especially when he can't get out of them.

But that's fine, he can distract himself. Right?]

Soo... what did you do to end up down here?

[Tactful question it is not, but it is Lance.]

Stand your ground II

[...Yep, that sure is a torture room, unsurprising to Lance. The hotel is like an even less aesthetically pleasing Galra base, all too close reds rather than too-big purples, old-fashioned rather than futuristic, warm instead of cold. Okay, so not much like a Galra ship at all- except in the atmosphere.

And, apparently, the hideous rooms and terrible punishments. Lance has seen a few much more futuristic torture rooms, but they were still bad. From the outside, on the whole, and for that he's very happy.

Lance really doesn't like the look of this room either, though. So anyone walking in on him is probably going to find him shamelessly trying to dismantle the worst looking bits of the room, because Lance does not stand for that kind of thing. And he's probably going to try and wrangle anyone else who comes in, too.]

Gonna stand there, or are you going to help me?

Reach Up High II

[Nice things? Lance wasn't really expecting the request for those from Hell- particularly not a Hell that stocks torture rooms- but he can totally do something. It's just... finding someone who actually wants something from him.

But he's never going to find those if he doesn't look, and if nothing else Lance strives to be a people person, so he's just going to head over to friendly looking people and give them a slightly too wide smile, hands shoved in his pockets.]

Hey, need a hand with anything there?

Follow Me Down II

[The club looks cheap and nasty, even Lance knows that. And he knows there's probably nothing in there he really wants, not with Allura's memory still pretty fresh.

But sue him, he's curious, and he's already in Hell. He's not sure a little curiosity can really hurt much more, at this point.

And Allura isn't here, that he knows of. That's a big point, too.

So he's sat somewhere at the back, trying not to look too guilty or wide-eyed. He's eighteen, he's old enough for this, and he's seen some bad things. A little sex shouldn't be such a big deal, really.]

Come here often?

[...Yeah, that's not stopping him being noticeably jittery and falling back on lines he's rehearsed before.]

Other

[Taking Lance from S8, so he's 18.

Feel free to PM me if you want to wildcard something, or just jump in.]

Stand Your Ground II

[pococurante]

[ Spike strolls through the room, by all appearances totally unbothered by all this weird shit.

It's really weird. And he is bothered. But he's not in the habit of letting other people know that.

There's gotta be somewhere around here he can practice his kata. It doesn't even need to be a dedicated space for it. Just somewhere there's enough room for him to kick without hitting anything. Or a heavy bag, if there is one.

He stops when the young guy talks to him and lights a cigarette. ]

Depends. What are you doing?

Kazari | Kamen Rider 000

[everythingmine]

arrival.

[Being stuck in this form, flesh and blood on top of that, is hell enough. There's a phantom ache in his chest, memories of a shattered core.

He'd never thought that greeed would get to experience anything like an afterlife. It could be argued that they didn't even have much of a life to begin with, and he wouldn't contest that much. They existed out of incompleteness. But here he is, his consciousness dragged down into... well, so far it's a lot nicer than any version of Hell he's ever heard described.

Kazari makes his way into the kitchen in his wanderings, prying open the refrigerator door to find a host of things he'd never bothered trying before. As a greeed he was incapable of tasting or enjoying food the way humans did. If there's one good thing to come of dying, this might be it.

He glances over his shoulder, as if Uva or Mezool might appear at any moment to witness him during this moment of weakness, before grabbing a full carton of milk, some cheese, and a package of hot dogs. It doesn't matter to him that the hot dogs aren't cooked. He doesn't know any better.

Sitting down at a table, he rips into the packaging of his findings and prepares to enjoy his small feast.]

reach up high - i.

[Kazari has absolutely no qualms about cutting into the person in front of him. He wouldn't even if he knew them, and he doesn't. The former greeed has never really been one for lasting friendships.

Having it done to him, on the other hand... Well it can't be that bad, can it? He's suffered worse damage than a simple shallow cut in his skin. He's actually never experienced pain in human form before, and the idea of it fascinates him somewhat. Though he's sure he'll tire of it very quickly.

He moves to grab up one of the knives, though he's never done much with weapons that weren't actually a part of him. Thankfully this doesn't require anything fancy - unless his partner decides to try and avoid him, of course.]

We should probably do it quick, you know? Get it out of the way.

ii.

[One good deed? That should be easy enough. He might be a greeed, but that doesn't mean he's not incapable of doing something nice if he has to. Good deeds are easy. And incredibly boring and unproductive, at least as far as he's concerned. Or was concerned. He supposes things are different now.

He doesn't feel like a completely different being. Things might be better if he did.

Are you looking to sit down and have a drink somewhere? Please, allow Kazari to pull your chair out for you! His smile is a fake one, but his actions are sincere. He just wants this over with.]

Reach Up High II

[pococurante]

[ Sitting down is the last thing Spike wants to do right now. He wants to find cigarettes. Maybe some place to get a workout in, and then a nap. He does not expect that this smiley guy pulling out a chair will be able to provide any of these things. And frankly, the friendliness is weird. Probably wants something.

Oh yeah. That announcement. Shit. He's gotta get on that.

He sits down. ]

So what's your deal?

ripley arkwright | original

[exasperation]

( arrival )

[ this is . . .

bad decoration. tasteless and tacky. not ripley's colour, at any rate. he prefers something more peaceful and calming. not intense reds like he's going for a death metal concert. which will never happen. ripley walks around the room before finally setting his eyes on the list. the list of sins.

to which he splutters. ]

It's not my fault I lost the dog! It was an accident!

( stand your ground i )

[ and the elevator stops to a grinding half. ripley waits. and waits. and waits. sweats. wipes his palms together. awkward smile. ]

Sooo.

I guess Hell really is close quarters, huh?

[ wait, no backtrack. ]

Not that you're bad or anything! Or I'm bad! No bad-judgement here!

( follow me down i )

[ there's no place to unwind properly and ripley hates it. where's his room with his three cats?? or like a calming center. maybe he could make himself a calmming corner. calm city.

instead he has one drink, lets the alcohol burn his throat as he slumps, resting his head on the table. his voice is totally muffled as he speaks to whoever grabs a seat near him. ]

Just leave me here to die.

( wildcard )

[ got a prompt? PM this journal / hit me up on captainkink / ripley's background info is here ]

1

[bellchime]

[Ripley's room, meet Yuel, your friendly neighbourhood fox lady who's just going to casually poke her head in through the doorway.]

Hey! What's all yer yappin' about! [Where's your 'hello,' Yuel.] Somethin' tells me that cranky voice ain't interested in hearin' what any of us have to say right now.

[She's tried. Her own list of sins wasn't exactly the most pleasant thing to wake up to, and she'd just love to have a word with whoever decided it was fair to bring up something so personal in the first place.

But more importantly...]

... Wait, did ya say somethin' about a dog?

yuel | granblue fantasy

[bellchime]

REACH UP HIGH: i

Why don't ya come on out and say all that to my face, y'big blowhard?!

[... but there's no response, predictably. Yuel huffs into the heavy air of the room, folding her arms across her chest as she regards the entire layout. As obvious as it is what they're expected to be doing here, the Erune doesn't seem to pay any mind to the table in the center of the room, nor to the pair of matching lists sitting innoccuously atop it, a sharpened knife on either side.

The tension's thick enough to slice through, ironically enough, but she remains silent for a long moment, mulling over her own thoughts with a jutting lip. Try as she might not to cast aspersions, there's no denying that there's a definite risk in being alone with a stranger in a room loaded to the nines with weaponry and no easily discernable exit -- but that doesn't mean she needs to abandon her natural optimism.]

... Hmm.

[And so, she's turning to you, a sly smile making its way to her lips in spite of the very dire, very serious circumstances that she's found herself in, like she wasn't just yelling at an invisible man to no avail, and like the instructions given to them aren't quite as severe as they are.]

Sounds like we'd better start workin' out a way to get ourselves outta here, don'tcha think?

[One thing's for sure: Yuel isn't terribly interested in letting herself be some cocky voiceover's plaything.]

REACH UP HIGH: ii

[One good deed, huh? Take away the hellfire and the crumbling architecture, and Yuel might actually consider that this place isn't as bad as it seems at first glance. If there's one thing she's good at (or would like to believe she's good at, but that's practically the same thing, right?), it's lending a helping hand - even if that hand might not be entirely wanted.

So, anyone passing by just outside the hotel might happen to spot one energetic fox girl knelt down near a small inferno, where a collapsed tree has been feeding a slowly-growing flame. She's doing her best to haul the worst of the branches out of the way to little avail, but what she has moved shows what's likely her motivation for risking a few burns: a small family of hellhounds seem to have gotten themselves stuck beneath the fallen trunk, the largest of the group protectively hunched over a mass of smaller puppies. They're not exactly the cutest things in the world, but Yuel's always felt a sort of kinship with anything fuzzy, even if that fuzziness happens to be rotting and charred and probably just as likely to attack her as soon as it gets the opportunity.

Either way, once she registers the presence of someone else, she'll be turning to them and immediately throwing out orders.]

Hey, don't just stand there! Ya gonna lend a hand or what, huh? Come on, grab a log! We gotta get the kiddies out before the smoke gets to 'em!

[There's really no other choice. Really.]

FOLLOW ME DOWN: i

I'm tellin' ya, there's a right way and a wrong way to have fire burnin' all over the place, and this place's got it all wrong. You're gonna be in for a whoooole lotta property damage if ya don't do somethin' about that big one out front.

[She's sitting at the bar, sharing her lamentations with the poor, demonic bartender currently on shift. He doesn't seem all that invested in listening to what she has to say, but that's only matched by Yuel's enthusiasm in chatting his ear off as she slumps over her drink -- something excessively bright and sugary that was likely intended to shut her up, but isn't quite doing its job just yet. If anything, it seems like it's only made her worse, because she hasn't stopped ranting about one thing after another since she flopped down onto the stool, seemingly completely unfazed by the type of creature her conversation partner is.

One of them could probably do with some assistance.]

WILDCARD

[hit her up! yuel's an erune, a species most easily discerned by their animalistic ears; in her case, she has two big ol' blue ones sitting atop her head, as well as a rather sizeable, rather fluffy tail. she comes equipped with a pair of matching swords so she's handy in a fight should the need arise, but she's also somewhat airheaded and just as likely to accidentally get herself into obligatory sticky situation of your choice.

for the more risque prompts, she's 19 years old, and not against some celebratory/social drinking or getting handsy with the right company. she's very much the moodmaker, even in hell. feel free to throw me a pm if you'd like to discuss or plot something!]

reach up high ii

[noassgardian]

Um-

[He looks around, but unless she's talking to that one grotesque demon that looks more animal than human, then this girl has to be talking to him, right? He hesitates, eyeing her suspiciously for a second before his eyes drift to the hell hounds she seems to be trying valiantly to save.]

Okay, I guess... but just so we're clear, you know they're probably going to try to eat us once we get them out, right?

[But Billy has a soft spot for animals, so of course he's gonna go help her. He just hopes they don't get murdered in the process.]

So we just have to get the trunk moved, right?

Loras Tyrell ✿ Game of Thrones

[triplerose]

[i. ARRIVAL]

[ Loras' sins are fresh on his mind as he slowly wakes up. He doesn't need a piece of paper to tell him that, the words depravity, dishonesty, profiglacy, arrogance echo in his head even as he reads them. There are other words, of course. No one in Westeros is without something to atone for. Some of the words he's not even sure what they mean, but he doesn't doubt their truth.

He wants atonment, though. He's never believed more in his wrong doings than now, sitting here a broken and lesser version of himself. He's not even quite sure how long he sits before he decides to see what else there is to this place. The device is left behind because he has no idea what it is. Or where he is. The After Life isn't quite what he'd expected.

Hopefully he can bump into someone who can either clarify or share his confusion. ]

[ii. STAND YOUR GROUND - Prompt I]

[ Elevator. Loras isn't entirely stupid enough to not deduce what an elevator is meant to do. The mechanics behind it are what make him wary. He's not certain a person should be in one, but he also doesn't have the mind to protest as much as he might have a few months ago.

He doesn't even need to be pushed in, not really. His hesitance is noticable as he shuffles into it, and Loras tries not to pay too much attention as the doors close, leaving himself and someone else at the mercy of who-knows-what.

But for a moment, it's actually quite fascinating. Until it stops. He glances at his companion from the corner of his eyes. ]

-- Is it meant to do this?

[iii. REACH UP HIGH - Prompt II]

[ Do a kind deed seems easy enough. Loras is about to simply start asking people if they need help before it dawns on him that it might not necessarily be genuine that way. He's never not been kind, though, he thinks. Quiet, yes, and certainly arrogant, but he's always done his best to be decent.

Not decent enough, clearly. Look where it's all gotten him.

So he supposes that he'll just wait for an opportunity to present itself rather than seek one out. Kindness can be taken for granted, after all. And his head is starting to hurt.

What a day. ]

[iv. WILDCARD]

Choose your own adventure. The only thing off the table is any sort of smutty situation or substance abuse.

[stormbreaking]

[The sudden lurch, the way the elevator just seems to stop-- no, Thor is quite sure this isn't how it's supposed to go at all. Particularly when the doors don't seem to open.

He'd been leaning back against the wall, arms crossed over his chest as he waited for what he assumed would be a short, inconvenient ride to the top floor.]

I believe something has gone wrong. The doors should be opening by now.

[And with that, he leans forward around the other to press the button again, because that should help.]

loki odinson | mcu

[dothelokimotion]

( i. arrival )

[ helheim? no, couldn't be. the reds, the strange mortal decor suggests another deity's hand at work. he massages his aching throat, tired. to land up here after . . . after everything is a bit of an eyesore. but he's alive or at least, he feels alive. his magic purrs under his skin.

loki can work with all of that. he peruses his room with a curious eye before he plucks the list, reading off it aloud. the list, by the way, is rather long almost reaching down to his toes. ]

Treason, lying, patricide . . . my, my, someone certainly spent a lot of time on this.

( reach up high i )

[ there is certainly a lack of creativity involved here. cut people up until they bleed? oh no, how painful and horrible, etc etc. he's bored already, casually spinning a knife on his finger, waiting. ]

If you want, you can start on me. To give you a little courage.

( follow me down i )

[ now this was more like it. loki still finds everything lacking and not up to standard, but a place with drinks and loose company? well, that's fine. it's not long until he's gathered up an audience, his legs crossed and his posture easy-going. ]

We could drink our sorrows away or we could play a game.

[ dare to play? ]

[ wilcard ]

[ got a prompt? PM this journal / hit me up on captainkink ]

follow me down i

[stormbreaking]

What sort of game would that be?

[Well, at least they will suffer this hell together, he supposes...

Whether that's reassuring or not remains to be seen.]

Draco Malfoy | HP

[theonewiththewand]

Arrival, well actually, just after
Blood magic is nothing to play around with, and the parchment is clear as to the exact nature of all of his sins. Embarrassingly clear.

He’s less sure as to the nature of the black square thing covered in buttons, but just in case he tucks it into his robes right along with his wand, before he dares to go exploring. It’s all rather a lot to take in, but once he manages to accept that it’s really happening, and stops trying to curse the disturbing house elves crawling all over the halls of this place, he finds himself wandering into the hotel bar.

Draco’s never seen a jukebox before. He’s seen bars, certainly, much nicer than the bar in this place, but the jukebox is a new thing. He’s drawn to the slightly dingy glow of its colored lights. When he approaches, it’s not making any noise. But when Draco prods several buttons with stubborn curiosity, the music kicks on, and the box of colored lights is now quite loudly shout-singing at him about going down to the crossroads.

He definitely visibly jumps.

Follow me down - I
WARNINGS: drugs, language

The day has been mildly traumatic, and now Draco finds himself back at the bar again. It’s far busier now, and he feels compelled to join in the festivities, not that he ever really turns down an opportunity to party. He is a Slytherin, after all, and this particular party looks like fun.

He has a drink, or two, and that's going well. Then at some point in the night Draco is offered a little white tablet with a tiny red flame icon printed on its top. Someone presses it onto his tongue, and he doesn’t even question it at this point. Fuck it. The party is working its magic, so to speak.

He’s starting to feel incredibly warm... and the urge to dance nags at him relentlessly until eventually he gives in to that too.

Misc/Network
After awhile, Draco takes the time to study the button box and sort out how it works, enough to make his first network post. He’s very proud of himself, though the consistent pain in his temples is really starting to throb.

What is this muggle nonsense? Where are all the owls?

Truly, the most pressing of questions.

Network

[pococurante]

Do you mean live owls or are you just used to taxidermy being around?

John Constantine | DCTV | CRAU

[hellboundheart]

Arrival

One John Constantine plus a nice cushy bed (compared to what he'd had) equaled a demon that was pretty sure he'd escaped Hell. He was ignoring the red theme, thank you very much. Maybe there was a kinky sort of Heaven he'd gotten into. Eh, the toilet wasn't belching flames and the place was bug-free. The latter was a bit of a letdown since he didn't have a legion of wolf-spiders for security purposes still, but someone would feed them.

Happy feeling lasted right up until he dropped into the bed and woke up in clearly not-Heaven.

The long... entirely too long... list was picked up and dropped into a pocket of his ratty trench as he scowled at the room. Sharpened teeth were bared in a growl, red tainting his eyes. "I already did this!" he snapped at the room. "Remember? Retrievals? Went to Earth, got the bad demons and brought them back? Corrupted the willing masses or at least those triplets down the street. I even did time in the daycare. That one demon brat threw up on me and another bit my ankle. I've still got the scar! Sort of."

When no 'Oh wow, John. Sorry about the mixup. Let's get you back to where you're supposed to be,' was forthcoming, John snatched up Blackberry and his bag. At least he still had his cigarettes. Lighting one, he headed down the stairs in a foul mood. Until he spotted the bar at least. Things were looking a little up as he sat down and waved the bored looking tender over. Too long fingernails tipped in a point tapped on the bartop.

"Vodka without the mess of anything else. Hooray for Hell," he said tiredly.


Stand Your Ground - Elevator

"No. I'm not getting in there."

The demon he was addressing was having none of that and waved again to the elevator with a bunch of gibberish about testing it out! Perfectly safe! Works great!

"No," John began as he took a drag off his cigarette. "I've played this game. I get on that elevator, and something bad is going to happen. The last elevator I got onto rained blood on me that turned to biting maggots. The one before that had an angel in there who panicked when it went into freefall and blasted me with holy light from her bosoms. Not a bad view, mind you, but I saw rainbows for a week. I'm not-"

And then he ended up on the elevator with whoever had been nearby as the self-satisfied demon outside shut the doors. It even helpfully pushed a button for them. The elevator hummed and moving promisingly for a few seconds. Then with a jerk and a lurch, they were stuck.

John Constantine sighed.


Follow Me Down - Prompt 1

If a bar existed, there was surely to be a John Constantine at it. Hell was proving no different although this John Constantine had already wandered down the demonic path and was one of them. A better version of himself might be walking around, or so he heard. Still human, still the one who fought demons instead of was one of them. Wasn't that a knee to the bollocks?

A draw of his cigarette and a downing of the shot of amber alcohol before him, and John cared a little less. Demons lied. That was pretty much what they were known best for. Hell knew, no pun intended, that he'd made an artform of it.

The fact that he had a soul again was interesting. He hadn't even realised it for most of the 'day'. A demon with a soul. Who would have thought? At least he was pretty sure he was still a demon.

A second chance, John, a quiet voice that sounded a lot like Zatanna's whispered from inside him.

"Not me, love," he muttered to no one in particular, waving for another drink as he gave the gaming tables a look over.


Wildcard - go for what thrills you!

----------
[ooc: This version of John is from Little Hades where he was a demon and acted like one. He has the clawed fingernails, pointed teeth. Having a soul back is a bit of a surprise to him. This John died at the end of the CW series, never making it to the Legends.]

Elevator

[conjobs]

The cocky bastard who's still not feeling 100% after landing on the bed and clambering out of it barely bothered to raise his head when he heard voices of protest. He doesn't frequent hell but he expects there's a lot of protesting going on if people are arriving the way he is, so he doesn't pay it much mind, keeping his head down and his eyes closed to keep the too-bright lights out. It's not until he hears that distinct voice in that distinct accent, slightly higher than what he's used to when his voice isn't echoing inside his own skull, that he lifts his head and cracks one eye open and then the other, acknowledging the bloke that's been shoved inside the elevator with him.

"Whoa, mate." Constantine eyes Constantine up and down. He had a dream like this once, but they weren't in an elevator. And it involved significantly less clothing.

"You're looking bloody 'andsome from the outside."

Rose Hathaway | VA + Bloodlines

[littledhampir]

sᴛᴀɴᴅ ʏᴏᴜʀ ɢʀᴏᴜɴᴅ ɪ

[ By the time Rose makes her way to the elevator - room key and list of sins, both in hand - she looks altogether too calm for the situation she finds herself in. It's as if she's going through the motions of whatever it is she's supposed to do next, an irritated expression on her face that almost manages to look bored. Panic or rage would have been far more acceptable responses and while she was certainly inclined towards the latter... it was hard for her to feel either when she didn't actually believe any of this was real.

As the door begins to close, Rose sees somebody coming towards the elevator and her gaze swings from them to the rows of buttons, strongly considering the option of hammering the one marked closed. Given what she believes is happening, however? She's sure that will only make this drag out longer than necessary and while she'll grow to regret holding the doors soon enough, for now she throws an arm out to trigger the sensors to hold it for them. ]

ʀᴇᴀᴄʜ ᴜᴘ ʜɪɢʜ ɪ

[ There'd been some hope on Rose's part that this charade of Hell and Penance would be exactly that. A charade that was designed to scare them into submission, but wouldn't actually be enforced. It had taken her long enough to be convinced of the fact that whatever this was, was not in fact a dream. It might have been obvious to the average person that dreams this long and vivid were impossible, but when you were surrounded by people who could conjure images and force them into your mind? The line between waking and dreaming was too easily blurred.

There had been some naive comfort in her belief that they couldn't seriously expect her to torture people but Rose could feel that foolish optimism slipping away the moment she'd found herself in this room. It was the cold stone she felt in her gut before she even tried the door and she'd tried it. She'd spent the better part of the five minutes she was trapped in here trying to pummel her way to freedom and it was why she was now, sitting on the ground with her arms resting on her knees. Her face flushed with anger and exertion as she pointedly stares at anywhere but those knives that slice through her willful ignorance.

When the door opens, she lifts her head, the brunette lurching towards possible freedom but she's too slow, the door too heavy and it slams closed with a sound that echoes off the walls of the torture chamber this room will become before she can even make it halfway there. A string of curses, spill past her lips. A strange combination of English and Russian, all coming from the young woman with an American accent who couldn't be much more than twenty.

Still half on the ground, Rose allows her legs to give way beneath her as she rolls. Flat on her back with her knees pointing at the ceiling as she runs a hand over her face, barely sparing any attention for the person who has just walked through the door. ]

This is just... perfect. [ Sarcasm lacing those words as she scrubs a hand over her face. ]

(( ooc ][ Rose is likely to be very resistant to the carving until the cuts begin. She's then more likely to do it so the person she's with stops being cut rather than herself. If at that point, the other person is still unwilling, she is not beyond pushing them verbally and or physically to do it. ))

ғᴏʟʟᴏᴡ ᴍᴇ ᴅᴏᴡɴ ɪ ᴏʀ ɪɪ

[ Rose is one of the many sinners who doesn't seem to be in much of a mood for celebrating. There was a time when something like this might have been the change of pace she was looking for, but after discovering that one demon's concept of finger food, involved actual fingers? She was hungry, in need of a drink and eyeing everyone who came within five feet of her with an air of suspicion that would rightly lead you to believe she was considering how best to incapacitate you.

She would have left, should have left but every time she goes to, something or someone distracts her; conversations she had no intention of having and then a drink in her hand that she never intended to drink. One becomes two, then three and that edge of paranoia starts to slip away. The brunette who appears on the younger side of half the people here, losing that look of irritation and disdain and almost seeming like she's... enjoying herself.

You wouldn't have had a hope in hell of getting her to go on to the club while sober but caution is a thing that gets disregarded as the night wears on and all it would take is the right amount of Dutch courage and morbid curiosity to get her to ignore every warning those obnoxious neon lights are trying to give her as she moves inside.

Even half-drunk, Rose isn't going to be easily pulled into the kind of experiences a place like this has to offer. She's just here to sate her curiosity, to watch if you will. At least that's what she told herself when she was lured through the doors. It's anyone's guess if she'll stick to that as the night wears on and the drinks continue to flow. ]

(( ooc ][ Open to anything within this prompt. Rose is 18, looks between 18-21. ))

ᴡɪʟᴅᴄᴀʀᴅ

[ Anything goes. If you want to plot something out, feel free to hit me up with a PM or on Plurk brooklyn2181 Here's a bio for literally everyone the canonblind. ]

Follow Me Down I

[pococurante]

[ Spike is doing his best to blend in. Quiet. Calm. He isn't too drunk and the only thing he's smoking is cigarettes. He's not really in the mood to party, but he is in the mood to figure out who some of these other people are.

He sees a young woman who could probably kick his ass making no secret of that as she glares at anybody who comes close. So of course he approaches her. He's a glutton for punishment. ]

Enjoying the party?

Neil Perry | Dead Poets Society | OTA (m/m for smut)

[shadows_have_offended]

[Neil Perry is 17 at this time!]
Arrival
If he's honest with himself, he isn't surprised. There's some part of him that always expected he'd end up in Hell, even before this past year of spectacular self-knowing at Welton. But what he isn't expecting is for Hell to look so very...normal.

It reminds him just a little bit of the time his and Charlie's families went skiing together. Yes, it's a bit like that huge mountain hotel had been, or how it felt. Now he just rather wishes that he had Charlie with him. He'd know how to make a joke out of all this. All Neil can do is look around and feel a bit nervous.

At least he is looking around. Carpe diem or some such, he supposes. He didn't think there would be any more diems to carpe after he picked up his father's gun, but you know?

What he could really use is a goddamn cigarette. Well, there is a duty-free shop. He's not sure what he can buy things with, since he's still wandering about in just his pajama pants.


Stand Your Ground - I
Neil doesn't think of himself as claustrophobic. He's fine with small places--the tight packed corridors of Welton, the Indian Cave, all that sort of thing. So maybe it's not the small space. Maybe it's that they're stuck and he can't get out and there's a stranger and he's still only in his goddamn pajama pants.

Ridiculous.

He crosses his arms over his chest protectively and tries to resist the urge to bang on the doors in hopes that someone will hear them. It's a powerful urge.

"I don't think there's some sort of demonic fire department."


Reach Up High - II
The voice tells him to be kind and decent, and Neil's more than capable of that. He's never been cruel. He has a multitude of sins--and a parchment sheet shoved into a duffel to prove it--but no one could claim that he was a bad person.

The problem, of course, is finding someone to help. Not a lot of people seem to want to be helped, and anyway, it's not like he can help old ladies cross the streets or pick up groceries for a neighbor or huck a desk set off the side of a building.

And is it really a good deed if he's seeking it out so insistently? Shouldn't goodness be altruistic and kind? In his mind's eye, Mister Keating is making a point about going with the flow and following society and all those things. Maybe Neil just needs to think outside of the box a little bit.

He can start by cleaning things up in the bar, though. It looks like something got a little out of hand in here.


Follow Me Down - I
At least Neil's found a shirt. That's something, right? He still looks like a kid woke up on Christmas morning.

But the bar is open and nobody seems to mind that he's seventeen. So there's that at least. He probably shouldn't drink, given how his father is when he drinks--Neil doesn't want to get as testy as his father--but also? He's probably earned it at this point.

"I don't know," he sort of mumbles, looking at the options and feeling terribly out of his depth, "what to get..."

Stand Your Ground I

[pococurante]

Claustrophobia isn't really a problem. A lot of the spaces he's been in while in space have been cramped, especially for somebody with as lanky a frame as his. But he doesn't like being trapped. Spike doesn't feel any need to contain himself. He knocks on the metal doors. Then bangs on them with his fist. "Hey!" He shouts, way too loud in the enclosed space. "We're stuck in here!"

He starts pushing all the buttons on the panel. Maybe that will spur the thing into action. And notices the young guy crossing his arms and glaring at him. "You got any better ideas?"

Joseph Kavinsky | The Raven Cycle/The Dream Thieves | OTA (m/m for smut)

[mitsubishievo]

[Joseph Kavinsky is 17 years old, per canon, and comes from the end of The Dream Thieves. If you are canon blind and have questions, you can message me at besosde]
Stand Your Ground - II
Kavinsky wasn't looking for anything in particular, but he found it anyway. The torture chamber was something out of a bad bdsm catalog or gory snuff flick, and Kavinsky was distractingly enamored as soon as he stepped into it.

He touched everything. He had to touch everything. Some things he set down immediately. Others he picked up and held close and inspected. Put the thing to memory.

He sat down on one of the benches, then sprawled back, squirming and writhing until he was comfortable. A vibrating, ridiculous giggle broke out of him. Oh, this wasn't Hell for him at all.

There was movement at the door. Kavinsky didn't sit up, just stayed there, a slight arch in his back. His grin was sharp, toothy and wild.

"Pretty neat, huh?"


Reach Up High - I
Kavinsky wasn't prone to honesty in any sense of the word, and he was not prone to self-discovery or growth, and he was not prone to revealing himself to other people. In fact, if questioned, he would lie and fabricate and hedge as much as he could. This was a survival technique, but it was also just a thing that he did because he liked it.

He also liked knives. He also liked watching people squirm.

While he was alone, he played with the knife, doing that trick of stabbing into the table between his fingers with increasing speed. And when someone finally joined him and they were informed what they were supposed to do, Kavinsky whistled low.

He pointed at the other with the blade of his knife. "Maybe you should go first. My list is pretty fuckin' long."


Follow Me Down - I or II - cw: drug use, potential for dub-con and kink
This was Kavinsky's kind of a party. There was food, there was music, there was drugs. There were men looking far too uncomfortable but definitely willing to be bribed with a drink and a pretty smile. Kavinsky had those in spades. Well, the drinks were free for anyone, they were just giving them away. But Kavinsky's smile was blissed out, his gaze a little milky. Oh, he was having the time of his fucking life.

He migrated, periodically, between the drug-den of a bar and the sex club just outside the hotel. Equal time would be spent at both, though the sex club had the downside of topless women and all that sort of thing. Not Kavinsky's jam. If he was going to be in Hell for being a goddamn sodomite, among other things, he felt like he could sneer at as many women as he wanted--and not the way he did back home.

When he was at the bar, he wanted to stay and see what other drugs and drinks they had available. When he was at the club, he wanted to stay and see who would pick him up.

Oh, this was a good goddamn night.


Network
anyone need something? i can hook you up. only demons that have touched this shit is me ;)

Follow Me Down I | CW: Alcohol/Drug Use

[conjobs]

Now this is proper hell. John is having the time of his life. They had him at 'open bar'. He started with a gin and tonic and didn't quite stop as the night progressed to whiskey to vodka to snorting interesting things up his nose to rum to bourbon, just enough to give him a good buzz and make him forget the long list of reasons why he's here without plunging into the usual pits and becoming a miserable sod.

Everything about John's outfit screams 'mormon that took a wrong turn'. He's ditched the trenchcoat somewhere. His loosened tie hangs low on his chest. Everything below the waist from the belt to the trousers to the shoes are still intact but there's a faint spill on his shirt and his sleeves are rolled up like he's looking for a fight.

Or, you know. Just a good time.

There's no 'hey you' or 'my cock just died, may I bury it in your arse?'. There's just an unsolicited touch while Kavinsky was standing around at the bar; a warm hand outside Kavinsky's back jeans pocket sliding down the curve of his butt, around the outside of his thigh, sliding back up under his shirt. An alcohol-slurred voice, dark chocolate and gravel, sultry like the drug-filled haze, breathes a question warm over the side of Kavinsky's ear.

"You wanna dance?"

Goodnight Robicheaux | Magnificent Seven | OTA

[intheashes]

Arrival
He is no stranger to nightmares. It's rarer for him to not wake up with a jolt, sweat on his brow, hands shaking. The falling isn't new either. Does he remember death? He remembers the separate slugs and then falling. But nothing after. Only this. Only this red room

Honestly, this room is a hell of a lot nicer than half the rooms he's rented in recent months. This is a damn luxury compared to some of those places.

He takes his time to gather himself. Can't be shaking now. He's missing something of vital importance. Something he hasn't woken up without in year. Surely, Billy is just down stairs getting them breakfast like before. Rose Creek was just another nightmare.

The list, the phone, these things are ignored for now. The man instead takes a deep breath and steps out of his room. And right into you.

He flashes a gold toothed smile and draws a polite southern, "Pardon me."

STAND YOUR GROUND
Prompt I

[Guess who's never seen an elevator before on his life. This guy. He bulks hard the second that door opens and those costrophobic insides come into view.

He peeks inside, half in and half out of the elevator, just looking it over, brow furrowed ]

You want me...to get into that contraption. You must be out of your damn mind.

REACH UP HIGH
Prompt I
His hand shakes as he stares at the knife. At the list before him. He glances at his own list, stomach churning. He looks away. "I can't..." He whispers, voice shaking. "There's already been so much..." Blood he means. There's so many deaths on his record, so many lives staining his soul. He can't do this. Not to someone else.

He feels the cut into his skin from a phantom blade and he grits his teeth. As long as he doesn't see his own blood, he's sure he'll handle this. He has to. "You don't need to bare my sins. But you can. Just don't let me see." He offers up an arm. His wishes his hand would stop shaking.

FOLLOW ME DOWN
Prompt I - drugs

Finally, relief. The only kind he knows. An opium laced cigerette hangs from his lips. He take slow steady lung fulls. It calms him. Soothes him.

He can even crack jokes. "I expected pitch forks, you know. Like the ministers back home always were hollering about from the pulpit. A bit disappointed, don't you think?"

Reach Up High

[nothingtoknives]

"I know."
His voice is quiet, soft. An owl's wing in the wind. Just as it always does, just as it always is. His own list is- well, it's not exactly any shorter than Goodnight's, now is it?

But he's the one who knows what to do with knives. How to be gentle. How to cut without leaving lasting damage. And so he picks one up from the case, testing the weight of it in his hand. Silver curves around his fingers as he tests the balance, even going so far as to throw one across the room so only one blade remains between them.

"Goody, let me do this. Let me help you." It's hell, hurting him. But it's hell seeing him cut deep by invisible knives. And if they have the lesser of two evils to choose from...
He takes Goodnight's arm, so gentle as he holds his wrist.
"... Take off your shirt." He won't have to see his own blood. And with Billy behind the blade, it won't hurt more than a tattoo.

Edward Elric | FMA (Manga) | OTA

[milkisgross]

Stand Your Ground II.
It had taken a while for Ed to calm down from the sheer panic he felt when he first arrived. From what he last remembered before winding up here, he really didn't know if he was dead or not. Eventually, he slowly opens the door into the hallway and makes his way around the hotel. He's not even sure where he's going but he soon stumbles upon a room he really wished he hadn't discovered.

His eyes widen as he looks around the room. It's only a moment later when he turns to leave, but bumps into someone who had come up behind him while he was distracted with the horror of it all.


Reach Up High I. CW for cutting and blood
Ed found himself being shoved into a room unexpectedly. Before he could turn around and either yell at the jerk who did it or run back out, it slammed shut behind him. He ran over to try to open it, but it wouldn't budge. Alright. Fine. This wasn't the first time he found himself locked in a room. He clapped his hands and pressed them to the door to transmute himself a door that would work.

But nothing happened.

"What the hell?!"

He clapped again. Nothing. It was like that bearded guy under Central doing whatever it was to block his ability to use alchemy. He stepped back from the door and looked around the room for an alternative way out and that's when he noticed the collection of knives displayed all around him. It was then that the door opened again and someone else was shoved inside with him before it closed again. Two lists appear on the table in the middle of the room from nowhere. Ed recognizes his right away. His eyes widen in horror as the voice explains what it wants them to do. He snaps his head around to face the person who's stuck here with him. If they can read the teenager's face at all, they'll realize that he is 110% NOT okay with going through with this.


Reach Up High II.
Ed was minding his own business when the voice reappeared and spoke to him. He froze as he listened to it and a brow rose is suspicion. Just...do something nice for someone? What was the catch? This was something he was far more capable of doing than when he was trapped in that room, but he had a feeling this was some kind of trick. He knew what the penalty was for refusing an order like this was before though, so he went around the hotel to look for someone. Thankfully, it wasn't long before he bumped into a person who looked like they might want some help.

"You ok?"


Wildcard
Feel free to tag with your own idea if you've got one! Please no smut.

ruby — supernatural

[iloveatallman]

STAND YOUR GROUND II

[ it’s not the pit, that’s for damn sure.

ruby’s seen some gnarly corners of hell on her lilith apology tour 2008. things that would drive the average person insane. beyond insane, because there’s always something worse, no matter how long and how far you think you’ve sunk. life, soul, sanity—each time you dig, there’s another layer beneath. being in hell isn’t rock bottom; it’s just a stop on the way.

she’s never seen anything like hotel hellifornia anywhere in hell. her hell, she supposes. as remiss as she is to admit it, her curiosity is piqued. she’s heard many a whispered promise before, but usually it’s just about stopping the torture, the pain, something to lessen the overwhelming fear. but it comes with a caveat, like a wish made on a monkey’s paw. sometimes the promises are outright lies, a dangled carrot before you get the stick right across the ass. she can’t remember any of them promising redemption, promising a better life. what even is a better life for a demon anyway?

it’s definitely a wrong turn that leads her into this room. this place rings familiar, though it’s a bit clean for a hell torture room. the fact that she just survived alastair ripping her guts out should have her clearing out of this place p-d-fucking-q. she’s still wearing his handiwork on her body, though the bleeding’s been staunched and the wounds scabbed over. curiosity gets the better of her, though, and concern over something in particular. she moves through the room, carefully examining each blade like she’s looking for some specific. ]

REACH UP HIGH I

[ plain room full of knives. a locked door that doesn’t give no matter how many times she kicks it or slams things against it with demonic force. now this sounds more like the hell she knows and hates.

by the time someone’s shoved into the room with her, ruby’s pacing the floor, arms crossed, body tense. patience isn’t a virtue she possesses in abundance, and there’s very little she has for this particular situation. she pauses a moment to regard her new partner, then the room around them, looking for any changes. her gaze falls on the table, the two lists and two knives poofing into existence as the door slams closed behind the poor schlub trapped with her in here. she’ll approach it first, if the other hesitates. the disembodied voice gives their instructions. ] Figures.

[ she’s already reaching for a knife when the voice speaks again, warning of the promised stick if they don’t bite the offered carrot. with the flick of her wrist, she flips the blade in her hand over, catching it by the dull edge to present the handle to the other person. her expression is a mix of resignation and determination. ] Come on. The sooner we’re done, the sooner we don’t have to stick around to find out what our “encouragement” is.

FOLLOW ME DOWN I

[ a celebration feels like a trap. hell typically has its own idea of what a party is, and it usually means blood, literal guts, screaming, and tears. all the things that make hell hell.

color her surprised when this shindig is more frat party and less horror movie. she’s still waiting for the veneer of the place to completely drop, but in the meantime, she might as well enjoy the facade. the drugs she’ll give a pass to, but food and drink she’ll happily partake in.

she’s just careful to avoid the non-food food that’s served up. puppy is not on the menu tonight, boys.

once she’s had a drink or two, ruby will take her third one over with her as she browses the gambling and gaming. there’s a certain curiosity towards what exactly they’re all gambling with anyway. it’s hell; what kind of economic structure could this place have? ]

WILDCARD

[ choose your own adventure here! open to any of the prompts. if you want to discuss or plot, hit me up at lovedbythesun ]

Follow Me Down 1

[hellboundheart]

[While John couldn't say for the other gambling tables or pits, his table involved a card game that was somehow dice as well with rules that changed every go-round. He is also very sure they're all cheating. He is, at least, and he's seen eight aces cross the table somehow so he can't be the only one. Only two of those had been his.]

[There's four of them all told, each holding their cards in close. The one to John's left picks up what looks to be a full set of Dungeons and Dragons dice and throws them. The other players all take a look, study their cards and roll a six sided die followed by two shots.]

[Those two shots might be why the rules kept changing.]

A quarter soul, [the one on the left pipes up.]

You can't have a quarter soul. It's whole or nothing, [growls out a rather piggish looking demon who rolled a '1' insists.]

[This argument grows until the two demons are squalling at each other, John smoking and the fourth member of the group looking like he's about to burst into tears. In his hands is a natural royal flush. Near impossible to get, and he can't play it while the demons argue. Hell for the professional gambler because once it calms down, they'll start the whole ridiculous cycle over with no one actually playing anything.]

[Pouring himself another drink, he glances up at Ruby and offers her the bottle.] Watch yourself, pet. The big one over there looks ready to start swinging.

Andrej Koscuisko | Jurisdiction Space | OTA

[unreconciled]

Stand Your Ground: II

[He had been investigating, there had been word of an exercise facility here, and yet when Andrej opened the door...]

Oh Holy Mother...

[It may be more medieval in appearance than Secured Medical, but there is no mistaking what this room is for. It is as if Captain Lowden had been given a full budget for his pet inquisitor and laid out a full course of instrumentation.

Or perhaps not Captain Lowden, since as far as Andrej could tell, there were no recording devices.

He should leave, posthaste. And yet Andrej cannot help but find himself frozen in the doorway. Of course he is a sinner and a grievous one at that, his own long list laid bare for anyone who'd enter his room to see. No doubt a matter of penance and punishment more than inquiry, here. Would he be beneath the tools himself, or expected to perform? Perhaps both, an opinion of far more horror than delight, causing a shudder to ripple through him.]




Follow me down: I

[Andrej is drunk.

Not just regular drunk, but plastered off his ass, barely maintaining his seat drunk. If the empty bottles of vodka next to him are any indication, the man has an absurd tolerance because he's not dead from alcohol poisoning yet.

He may even mistake you for the bartender or a server, interrupting his own quiet and unfortunately off-key singing and suddenly thrusting an empty bottle in your direction to slur:]

This bottle... as you can see, is clearly defective...

Follow Me Down I

[pococurante]

[ Spike's been pacing himself. He's not even sure he can get drunk in the afterlife. Is that how stuff works? Either way he's keeping his wits about him for the time being.

Not like this guy. This guy had the exact opposite idea. Spike dodges as the bottle waves dangerously close to his own drink, just barely avoiding ashing his cigarette on the guy's arm. ]

Careful. If my drink develops the same defect we're going to have a problem.

Raina Wallis | Anita Blake: Vampire Hunter series (and CRAU) | OTA

[wickedlupine]

1. Arrival.

Judgement. Bah, what did she care about that?

Well, okay, Raina supposed she cared a little when it apparently involved being taken from a nice, cushy existence far from a certain pesky hunter and dropped into a place where the scent of smoke and burning seemed to underlay everything. At least that was the first thing she picked up on when she woke up, her nose twitching and her entire being protesting the new location.

It didn't take long for her to notice the list — blood was a familiar scent, even her own — and she absently licked the cut on her palm as she skimmed it, snorting softly in amusement once or twice. Commit enough sins and you're bound to forget a few over the years. "Boy, if you're hoping for repentance, you should have grabbed a human." she muttered to the room.

She snatched up the rather lengthy list and the Blackberry before she finally made her exit from the room, knowing both were there for a reason, and she stepped out into the corridor in time to see someone else doing the same. Another unlucky guest, she assumed. Raina recalled the cycle from elsewhere; waking up somewhere unfamiliar, with a communication device and a sense of something bigger at play. Perhaps the latter was just her. After all the time she spent around vampires in her first life, she was rather accustomed to assuming there was always some 'big picture' thing going on.

"Would've been nice if they left us a glass of water and some asprin if they were going to give us a hangover." she remarked as she walked toward the other person.

2. Stand Your Ground I.

While it might be natural for someone to be unhappy and verbalize that discontent at getting unceremoniously shoved into an elevator with a stranger, the growl that came from Raina sounded far more animal than human, despite a very human appearance (at present, at least). A glare was given to the doors that closed surprisingly quickly, her upper lip curling in what a careful observer might class as a snarl. Almost immediately she moved to the panel to forcefully hit a button, prompting the elevator to descend briefly before lurching to a stop.

"Seriously?!"

She smacked the button again, then took a few steps backward to better look around the space. Normally elevators were fine but being forced into one and then having it stuck? It was all she could do not to start pacing. The wolf didn't like this at. all. A small closed space felt far too much like a cage and she confined others, she most certainly didn't get trapped herself.

3. Follow Me Down II.

After the ordeal with the elevator earlier, Raina was all too eager for a chance to unwind and de-stress. Hunting was her preference, or just running for a few hours, but the hellscape was as uninviting as a forest was inviting. In the back of her mind she had a hunch that eventually she would have to make due with what was available, however she was in no hurry to explore too far.

The sight of the club perked both her mood and her curiosity and she didn't hesitate to go inside. Almost immediately a delighted smile came to her face, likely the first one all day. It's a little tacky, admittedly, but certainly no worse than one of the supernatural strip clubs back in St. Louis that made use of neon lights and mesh-shirt-wearing beefy shapeshifters to draw in the human clientele. The underlying scent of sex made her inner beast stretch and her shoulders relaxed, a smirk lingering on her lips as she headed over to the bar.

A single alcoholic drink for her might as well be drinking water, which is why she savored a long drink from her glass as she turned to lean her back against the bar and let her gaze wander. Surely there was someone present that might entertain her for a short while — or a few hours. She was very familiar with the kind of back rooms a place like this had, although whether Hell could compete with the creativity of a few werehyenas she once knew remained to be seen.

Raina had no intent of diving straight into her old tricks but that didn't mean she couldn't start testing the waters for her own interest. No wolf liked to fly solo for long, after all.

4. Wildcard!

Choose your own idea! Happy to plot via PM if desired. Run with whatever style you're most comfortable with, I'll match.

[ ooc: Raina is a werewolf, and from a verse where shifters' animal presence can be noticed/felt on a metaphysical level (and sometimes even interacted with separately). Characters attuned to the supernatural or familiar with non-humans are welcome to pick up on what she is or simply that she doesn't feel human. She'll be coming in with minor game history and while she'll be surprised by Hell, the whole "uprooted at random and thrown elsewhere" aspect and meeting people from other worlds is old hat to her.

Also, it's worth noting that her canon history is full of warn-worthy content (heavy on violence and sex; she was in charge of punishments in her pack, and she also made snuff films) so if there's something you'd rather avoid, please just let me know! ]

Follow Me Down II

[conjobs]

"Hellooooo sexy." He could have tried with a dad joke pickup line, those tend to start a conversation even if they never work as they are intended to, but he's had enough to drink that he's almost poured himself over the bar waving an empty glass around asking silently for a top up. He flashes her a stupid grin and his eyes wander from her hair to as low as they can go without him moving and back up to meet her gaze.

That's John's life in a nutshell. Unwittingly, drunkenly leaping dick first into danger.

"Did you..." One flailing hand vaguely gestures the whole falling plop into bed method of arriving in Hotel California.

Richard | Baraou no Souretsu

[proveavillain]

((ooc: as a note for anyone canon unfamiliar, Richard is intersex, should that come up in any smut-leaning prompts or threads.

Will match style, prose or action.))

Stand Your Ground - Prompt I

The young man knew not what was happening as he was roughly pushed through the open doors. A loud groaning as the doors slid closed, bright lights flashing in the small box as the floor fell underneath him, causing Richard to lurch forward unexpectedly. It was just the latest in the unexplained oddities of the place, seeming magical and fittingly demonic to the man from the Middle Ages. He could hardly understand the concept of the elevator, let alone how the lights remained steady indoors, rather than flickering as candles or crackling like the fireplaces to which he was accustomed. So to feel the box shutter and drop under him, all he could do was hold on tight.

Unfortunately for the other unlucky occupant within the elevator, as he found himself falling forward into them, too surprised to do anything but cling to them as they plummeted down. Only once the box slammed to an abrupt stop was Richard flung back against the wall, eyes wide and unmistakably frightened.

"Wh-what...what just happened?" he gasped.

Reach Up High - Prompt I

The moment his list of sins appeared, Richard snatched it up and held it to his chest, quick to swipe one of the knives that appeared. He held it out, wary, as he surveyed the stranger trapped inside the room with him. So far he had managed to keep his sins to himself, and he intended to keep it that way, honesty be damned.

"...I have no desire to use this on you," he said, his body tense as he inched back toward the wall. "Nor do I intend to willingly submit my flesh to your blade. If you seek to comply, then you may attempt to subdue me; however, I shall not allow it without a fight."

Follow Me Down - Prompt I

He was used to attending social functions at court, although none were quite like the one he was witnessing now. Standing against the wall with a drink in his hand, Richard found himself, for once, not weary with boredom to be forced to endure it, but looking around him fascinated. He had thought himself rather well acclimated to the numerous eccentricities and wonders of the place, but no - he was only just beginning to see how different Hell was to the reality he knew. Music - at least, that was the closest thing he could describe it, being sounds his ears had never yet beheld - filled the whole place, and yet he could not spy in any corner the performers, not a minstrel in sight. The sheer volume was deafening; only on the battlefield could he be subjected to such cacophony.

The party guests engaged in such frivolities he had never seen before, games set up the rules of which he could not begin to guess as he walked by them, observing quietly. Meanwhile others seemed to move in a way foreign to him, appearing betwitched, possessed...well, it must be the norm when one lingers so close to the devil, he reasoned.

As he stood in his quiet corner, someone offered him a small, strange looking tablet. Richard took it in hand before he could refuse, and stood looking intently at it, wondering. He glanced around, noticing others here and there ingesting them... Did he dare try?

(( ooc: dub-con okay for this prompt, just shoot me a pm if uncertain! Character is 25yo. ))

Reach up High

[not_my_brothers_keeper]

"That's fair... There are six things that the Lord hates, seven that are an abomination to him: haughty eyes, a lying tongue, and hands that shed innocent blood, a heart that devises wicked plans, feet that make haste to run to evil, a false witness who breathes out lies, and one who sows discord among brothers. 1 Timothy 4:2," Yukio answered with a slight twitch of his lips as he calmly went to gather his own list of sins and tucked it into the back pocket of his white slacks.

"Though I must admit there is some irony to this situation. Would you honestly be considered innocent if you are already in hell?" Yukio asked as he glanced over at Richard, his fingers lightly curling around the handle of his knife.