caycep: (Sad)
[personal profile] caycep
((Open RP. Picks up after this conversation, post-mayhem and post-opening-of-the-door. Feel free to intercept Cayce at any point.))

After she talked to Ellie, Cayce realized she really needed to pull herself together before dealing with anyone else. She ducked into a bathroom, where she found there was just enough water pressure to wash her face and make herself as presentable as she could. Then she set out across the park, generally in the direction of Tomorrowland and the theatre (and not thinking about who she wouldn't find there anymore, because that would just get her started again), and taking a fairly circuitous route to try and meet as many people as possible on the way.

***

ETA: Cayce makes an announcement.
[identity profile] soho-angel.livejournal.com
((We're going to get Sam dellamified and Chii wherever she needs to go here, but if anyone else would have a reason to need an angel following the assault on the park, feel free to chime in))

Following Ellie's arrival, Aziraphale stepped out the door of Club 33, somewhat relieved to turn Crowley and his miserable mood over to someone who might stand a chance of doing something about it. With that concern out of the way, he was now aware of subtle subliminal tugs that told him someone (maybe more than one person) out here in the park required the services of an angel.

The direction of the need was not immediately clear, so he began by setting off in the direction of the Cat's Eye Cafe in Tomorrowland. Little Chii would undoubtedly be confused by the power outage and perhaps frightened by the loud noises. (Had anyone thought to warn her what would be happening? Probably not. Drat, he ought to have done it himself, whether he was involved or not. Slipping, old boy, you really are slipping, he told himself.)
[identity profile] mickey-cops.livejournal.com
((Continuing from this post.))

In the passageways beneath the park, where a group had gathered to break down a long-closed door, a laser beam was widening, and a broad circle began to blacken the surface of the wood, the locks melting and streaming down in shining rivulets, to puddle at the doorstep. The room was getting hot, now.

Outside, all at once, the rides all stopped. Animatronic figures jolted still; boats bumped each other confusedly; rollercoasters fell to the bottom of their tracks and did not continue up. The lights inside the buildings flickered off; the perpetual background noise of music and soundeffects went silent.

Below, the hole in the door began to crackle and spark around the edges, and for just a moment all the eyes trained on the door could see through it a fathomless darkness. An odd, organic silence filled the air; everyone's breathing and small movements were audible, but so too was a new absence of sound, as though the walls were all holding their breath.

And then the air around the door began to shimmer.
[identity profile] hear-the-drums.livejournal.com
((set not long after the Master gives the Rani some blood to test.))

The only thing worse than the Rani's curiosity was his own particularly violent brand.

What a fantastic death abyss. )
caycep: (I'm listening)
[personal profile] caycep
((The return of Cayce and Quixote! Wide open RP. If you haven't already, catch up with the adventures of Quixote, Setsuna, Cayce, and Adam here.))

At some point after Pirate Day, an announcement came on over the park PA system.

"Hi everyone. This is Cayce Pollard. I'd like everyone to come to a meeting tonight to discuss a new discovery that's been made about the park. The meeting's in the Honey I Shrunk the Audience auditorium, at sundown. This is pretty important, so please be there if you can."

That evening ...

Don't forget to keep your head warm )

***

After the various discussions had settled out somewhat, Cayce finally cleared her throat.

"Okay, so here's the plan. Tomorrow at midday, anyone who wants to join the underground expedition should meet at the statue. It sounds like the time dilation or whatever it is makes time pass more slowly belowground than up here, so I think Adam and Setsuna will be fine. We should take the time to get ready with whatever we'll need to bring with us." Plus, of course, it was Adam. Of course they'd be fine. "Then, once we're at the door and ready to proceed, the—the Master will send a signal to the Doctor, who'll lead the distruption. Anyone has any other questions, find me. Thanks, everybody."

((And there will be a fresh post for the expedition when my life is a little more normal.))
[identity profile] iron-and-latin.livejournal.com
((closed RP for Sam and the Master))

(It's like an old picture in black and white from some noir film, a beautiful woman smoking a cigarette, the man across from her sipping something expensive from a highball glass. They're talking, words he doesn't quite understand, and there's laughter in their tones, an almost lightness. He recognizes her, it's Una, and the man)

(his eyes, darkening, it could be intimacy but it's not, and he knows that face too, that smile that's a lie, he met the Master at the gates when the man - alien - first arrived. he'd thought he could be a demon then and he thinks so now)

(at the sight of her pressed up against the wall, straining for air as the Master's elegant-but-cruel hands tighten around her throat, and he isn't stopping, isn't giving room for air, and the look on her face that suggested this could all be just a dangerous game slips under the sounds of a windpipe slowly collapsing beneath his fingers)


Sam gasped, seeing a distant glimpse of the ground close to his nose, was aware that (the same room, now in disarray; there had to have been a struggle.) his chest was heaving and the staggering, stabbing pain (the outside of the Toon Town City Hall, one door ever so slightly ajar.) behind his eyes was lessening some. The ground was wet where he'd dropped a half-drunk can of Coke-Cola, the sight slowly spreading liquid interspersed in his sight with the flagging pieces of the vision.

(Una's body, pale and broken and lifeless, and the Master's hands covered in her blood)

He hadn't had a vision since he'd come to the park. He'd never had a vision that hadn't been centered around one of the children like him, or the demon that stalked them. He'd never had a vision with so many complicated pieces. Sam let his forehead rest on the pavement, feeling how his knees ached from falling on them. He'd been right about what he told John- his visions were getting stronger.

Or maybe he was making them stronger.

And things are gonna slide in all directions, won't be nothing you can measure anymore. )
[identity profile] una-harlequin.livejournal.com
It was late in the afternoon, getting on toward sundown, and Una Persson stood on the deck of the Miss Daisy, smoking a cigarette and leaning on the railing in an unselfconscious pose slightly reminiscent of Garbo. It would have been all very old-Hollywood apart from the cartoon silliness of the boat itself.

"Some sod's up to something," she said out loud. As an observation it wasn't particularly helpful or insightful, because some sod was always up to something, but the sentence had the soothing familiarity of a mantra, and she needed that.

It had been a very bad day. )

((Open RP; feel free to stop and chat.))
[identity profile] iron-and-latin.livejournal.com
((Closed RP for John and Sam.))

It was too hot in fake-ass Disneyland for the heavy sweatshirt (it had Goofy on it, which he'd long since stopped caring about) Sam was wearing, but it made him feel a little closer to home. He was sitting in the Hungry Bear Restaurant, which was a good place to hang out since it was out on the edge of the place and more often empty, like it was now. He was sitting at a table, hunched forward with his arms crossed and the hood up, staring at a single spoon lying on the table.

'Actually, there’s, uh, somethin’ else, too,' he tells Dean, guiltily. The look on his brother's face says that Dean knows he doesn't want to hear it.
'Oh, jeez, what?'
'When Max locked me in that closet, that big cabinet against the door—I moved it.'
Dean laughs. 'You’ve got a little bit more upper body strength than I give you credit for.'
'No, man, I moved it—' he doesn't say 'with my mind,' because that's stupid and cliche and not what it was, not at all 'like Max.'


Sam stared harder at the spoon, which remained still, boring and innocent on the slightly scratched wood.

'Bend this.'
'I can’t turn it on and off, Dean.'
Well, how’d you do it?
I don’t know.


Sam sighed, and drew a hand across his eyes, trying to ease the pounding headache behind them. Then he looked back at the spoon.

Well, Dean says, half-hearted and desperate. I’m sure it won’t happen again.
[identity profile] redo-fromstart.livejournal.com
Ponder liked working in teams, provided he had a vague semblance of leadership, and after much experimenting with magic, all he'd managed to do was blow up a couple of things (it certainly felt like something was hindering his attempts to mess with universes, and that was disturbing in itself), he decided he needed help. All the help he could get. This really, when he thought about it, was in everyone's interest. Organisation was also Ponder's thing, so maybe a committee was in order.

Posted on the bulletin board )
[identity profile] shake-bad-guys.livejournal.com
Fraser got the bad guy, no surprise there, and even if he'd had to fall down an abandoned mineshaft to do it, well, he was Fraser, so of course when Ray yelled down after him he yelled back up that he was fine, just fine, Ray.

The trouble was, he was also still at the bottom of a mineshaft with an unconscious arms dealer, and now Ray was going to have to figure out how to get both of them back up into daylight and solid ground. Do you ever get the feeling that you're, you know, lost? )

((RayK, from the eccentric 1990s Canadian TV show "Due South." Ray is arriving from just before the end of the series finale.))
[identity profile] collects-knives.livejournal.com
Jo was clutching the flashlight tightly in her hand as she moved through the narrow passageway in the walls. Yes, it has been her idea to go down here when Dean wasn't able to fit, and she didn't regret it, really. It was just really kind of creepy down here. The flashlight kept making weird shadows on the walls and she kept expecting that psycho killer ghost to jump out and grab her.

"Where are you?" She heard on her phone.

Moving it closer to her ear, Jo looked around her. "I'm by the North wall." She looked around and saw the passageway that was going down. "I'm about to head down some kind of air duct."

Jo wasn't exactly sure what she was expecting to see when she came out of the air duct. This was definitely not it.

"Where the hell did the castle come from?"

The Application )


[[Jo is from the show Supernatural and I have the permission of Sam's player to app her. I'm bring her in from Season 2, right in the middle of the episode "No Exit" where she was helping Sam and Dean hunt a ghostly serial killer.]]
[identity profile] perfect-karma.livejournal.com
Franziska, upon being sorted to Toon Town, went there to look around, but found it unacceptably foolish as anticipated. There would certainly be no question of her staying there, but she wasn't finding anything approaching suitable lodgings.

A bit frustrated but not ready to give up, she posted an announcement to the bulletin board.


Attention Residents of Disneyland,

I , Franziska von Karma, shall be requiring a place to stay during the short time I will remain here. I am aware certain of you who are too incompetent to leave within a timely fashion have prepared yourselves long term arrangements to bring comfort to your stay.

If you are a resident of the best lodgings in the park, kindly provide the location of said lodgings here, and then vacate the premises as soon as you are able so that I can move in. It would be best if this could be accomplished this evening prior to sundown so that I will be able to get situated.

Your cooperation is appreciated.

Sincerely,

Franziska von Karma.
[identity profile] iron-and-latin.livejournal.com
There was little enough to do in the park to keep a guy occupied for an entire day, let alone over night, so the first night Dean didn’t come back to Le Bat En Rouge Sam was kind of worried. When his brother didn’t show up the next day either, he popped over to Starbuck’s around dusk and casually asked if she’d seen him, making up a story about how his brother had stolen all his Latin notes to explain why he was looking. And after two more days, in which he had scoured every square inch of the park, he was certain that Dean wasn’t in the park any more

He kept it to himself for a while, and then he wrote a letter to Cayce, which read simply;

For the census.

Dean Winchester has left the building.

-Sam.


About five days after Dean’s initial disappearance, Sam showed up at Space Mountain, hands shoved in the pockets of a navy hoodie from one of the shops and a somber look on his face.

((ETA: Warning for sexy-times.))
caycep: (Discontent)
[personal profile] caycep
[The Beatles' "A Hard Day's Night" plays.]

That was for Kira, who's wondering why we don't get more requests for Beatles songs. Good question, Kira.

So. [Weighty pause.]

I got a total of four, count 'em, four requests from two people. And Kira's there was one. I'll go ahead and play through the rest before figuring out exactly how you guys are going to pay for this.

First up, here's "Ordinary Day" by Great Big Sea, a "happy song with the word 'day' in it" from Orihime to Kira.

Orihime would also like to hear "Night and Day" by Bette Midler.

That "Night and Day" shouldn't be confused with the Cole Porter song. A version of which has been requested by Kira, and is dedicated to "the object of his obsession." So here's your request, Kira, as performed by Frank Sinatra.

[Pause.]

Okay, here's what's going to happen. I'm going to play every single version of Cole Porter's "Night and Day" that we have up here. You want to hear something else, call in and let me know.

Music Nerd Central presents: EIGHT versions of "Night and Day". Including one featuring John Barrowman pre-Jack Harkness. )

I think that's all the versions we've got up here, at least the ones I've found so far. Aren't you glad? Call in if you want to hear something else. Otherwise it'll be every version I can find of "Memory" from Cats or some crap like that.

*((And because there is some warmth in my shrunken little heart, I offer as well this bootlegged video of Barrowman performing the song "De-Lovely", which I'm guessing is from a production of Anything Goes. Chris Chibnall, are you listening? All-singing-all-dancing special episode of Torchwood NOW, please. Also, I really want to know who the girl is performing with Barrowman there. She's great.))
[identity profile] iron-and-latin.livejournal.com
((Closed to Sam and Katou))

As annoyed as he had been about Katou’s attitude, Sam didn’t really feel like getting into another argument over it. Still, you didn’t tell a guy he was acting like an asshole over the radio so that everyone could hear and then not follow up, so he went out and sat at the foot of the Walt statue, as he had said he would.

With any luck the guy would accept an apology with minimal fuss. Sam wasn’t sorry, exactly, but he didn’t mind apologizing anyway, and the point had been made.
[identity profile] iron-and-latin.livejournal.com
((Closed for Susan and Sam))

Sam had spent the last… well, it had to have been at least a month by this point… mostly hidden away in the Hungry Bear Restaurant trying to bend spoons or lift glasses off of shelves with his mind. So far all he had gained for his trouble were a lot of rather severe headaches.

They’re steppin’ on his gold terrain, he’s movin’ on with bold refrain. )
[identity profile] katoustheshit.livejournal.com
[Over the radio plays E Nomine's Mitternacht.]

Hey everyone, Katou here. And like I said, if you requested shitty music - and hoo boy, did some of you request really shitty music - I won't be playing it. You see, my radio's got standards.

So, let's get this party started )
[identity profile] salt-and-burn.livejournal.com
((Backdated to shortly after Sam and Azi's conversation.))

Dean hadn't exactly been sulking, but he'd--well, he wasn't very happy. Disneyland had long since gotten boring, and he had taken to avoiding Sam, and that didn't leave much else. He couldn't say quite why he was avoiding Sam, but the thought of having to talk about plans and theories just unsettled him, all of a sudden. It was too much to deal with--if they had to accept the possibility that maybe they shouldn't be killing demons... Well, what the hell did that leave?

So he'd spent most of the day alternately trying to work things out in his mind or block them out entirely, all while riding Splash Mountain in continuous loops. When the mild adrenaline rush from the drop stopped affecting him and when the zippity-doo-dah finally started to wear at his nerves, though, he finally got off and headed back to the store, hoping half-heartedly that Sam wouldn't be home.

"Hey," he called, automatically, as he stepped past the salt line across the door. "You here?"
[identity profile] bloodandchips.livejournal.com
After talking to Mickey Mouse (and wasn't that an odd phrase), Spike set out for the Haunted Mansion. Worth checking out, at least. He'd had plenty of time while hiding lurking in the souvenir to study an absurdly colourful map of the Park. He'd never been to the real Disneyland and he was regretting that now. Drusilla would have loved it.


He took his time getting to the Mansion, looking around as he walked. The buildings were no more than elaborate theatrical scenery, lacking only the actors. Or perhaps that was why he and the others had been brought here. All the world's a stage, indeed.

((He's wandering through New Orleans Square. Feel free to approach him.))

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A world of laughter. A world of tears. A world of hope. A world of fears.

December 2016

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