[Mindy’s in a kitchen (not hers), wrapping tin foil around a sandwich and dropping bottles of water in her backpack. Next to that, she stuffs in some library books. She seems pleased with what she has so far but it’s obvious by the way she’s looking around, something is missing.

Cabinets are opened and closed and containers are checked in. At one point, the refrigerator is open and she sighs, frowning at a bag of baby carrots she’s pulled out.]

No. That’s not....[More searching and more frowning and a few swears before, finally;]

Mom? Hey, mom! Where are the potato chips?

[From the look on her face, this is serious business.]

[Pepper comes into the kitchen with Mindy’s jacket, which she drapes around the chair by her backpack.]

In the pantry, but you’re not putting them in your lunch, young lady. Not unless you also pack a fruit.

Oh, come-- [Nope. She’s not arguing. She’s not about to argue. Not with her mother. Instead, she opts for one of the golden delicious apples on the counter, washing it and drying it and setting it in her backpack. It wasn’t a very big apple but mom didn’t specify.] I gotta go. I’m gonna be late.

[Before she can run out the door, Pepper kneels down and straightens Mindy’s backpack straps.] You be good, okay? Call me if there’s any trouble. [Not that there would be, Mindy’s a very responsible girl who can take care of herself, but it’s a mother’s job to worry.]

[Mindy smirks, sounding a bit smug for a moment.]

When am I ever not good?

[...wait.] Don’t answer that.

[And Mom gets a hug before hurrying out the door.]

[ooc: d’oh! they’ve been family day’d. mindy is purple, pepper is orange.]

[ Good morning, City. Today you will find that the majority of the square has been covered with the word 'MINE' also 'MINE' and also? MINE. (You know what I'm talking about.) Near the fountain is her signature, an elegant swirling: Berthier.

Now that it's daylight, however, she's out and about in the city, scrawling her message of possession not only on the inanimate, but also onto any people who happen to catch her eye... ]

[ Karl sits in the gardens of Xanadu. He's peeling an apple, slicing off the blood-red skin with a knife in one winding loop. His smile is full of amusement and mystery and perfect, avid delight. ]

...If only fools fall in love, what a privilege to join their ranks. For I - abandoned, discarded, deep-sixed, dejected - have found a perfect little fool of my own.

Sssh. Don't mistake. She's not just any fool. She's a trickster, a Devil among Devils. With a harlequin's face and tongue like quicksilver. Not that you ingrates ought to hear of it. Not her tongue nor teeth nor thighs. Or whatever-have-we in between. Creatures as dull as you? Tch. No. Nein. Nix.

I refuse.

[ So there. ]

Hat~ter. Dearest. Sweetest. Bringer of evils. Light of my life. Won't you join me on a bloody fr~ay tonight? Or would you rather make demands of me? Petulant or petty. I'll fulfill them all. Prefer you hats? Daggers? Dresses? Acts of senseless violence?

Command in your softest dove's voice. Or screech, if you prefer. I'll ob~ey.

[ Tipping his head back, he dangles the peel playfully into his mouth. Munch. Munch. Munch. ]

Only - please don't deprive me of your company. Not an hour-minute-second more.

My heart breaks for every moment we're apart.

[ Cue smoldering look. It's almost convincing. ]


[ OOC: Not cursed. Just trolling poor Hatter for the lulz. His deathwish is clearly acting up. Horrified observers are free to either go along with it, or call him on it. ]

[For the past couple of weeks, things have been seeming to go fine for Andy. He's still staying at the Welcome Center, but he's managed to score a job at a corner market. Most of his nights are filled with patrolling in costume and any down time is met with either sleep or newly acquired video games.

All in all, life is pretty normal for him once again since coming to the City and he feels better prepared to handle things. Even the last couple of curses have been alright, minus the champagne shower and nearly frying himself with static shock on doorknobs.

But today? No sir, today is not a happy day.

His phone is on and the camera pans over to the toaster.]

Okay. Someone please tell the toaster that its purpose is to toast bread so I can finish making breakfast and go to work.

[At this point in time, the toaster itself pipes up, speaking gruffly and now being portrayed in a lovely shade of orange text:]

Yeah, ain't gonna happen, pal. You wanna put toast in me, you're gonna have to fight me because I ain't toastin' toast no more, NOPE. Every day you stick toast in me and do I ever get a word of thanks? NOPE. So you can take your bread and shove it right up your --

Alright, alright! Jesus! Thank you for making toast for me every day, I appreciate it, but can I please just finish so I can go?

Go to hell, kid.

Black text = Lena; Blue text = Amma; Red text = Ethan

[The scene is confusing. It's some sort of overgrown graveyard, but it's on fire. And yet the flames aren't moving. It's like time is frozen, and that's because it is. People are frozen in place. One is a woman holding a knife and standing over a boy laying on top a crypt. There's blood coating the front of his shirt at the stomach. His eyes are shut and even if the scene wasn't frozen, one could tell he's dead. Lena is kneeling next to him with a book beside her, open to a certain page. She looks nearly the same as now, except in the memory, both her eyes are green. There's a woman beside her, old and bony, but with a determined face and an air of strength.

Both she and Lena close their eyes and Lena begins to chant in Latin. Then the woman takes her hands in both of hers and they both recite the chant in English:]

Blood of my heart,
protection is thine.
Life of my life,
taking yours, taking mine.
Body of my body,
marrow and mind.
Soul of my soul,
to our spirit bind.
Blood of my heart,
my tides, my moon.
Blood of my heart,
my salvation, my doom.

( cut because it got loooong )

Dammit!

[ Li, red-cheeked and flustered, fiddles with his device. ]

...Um, there seem to be alot of curses afoot today. Bad ones. [ More fiddling. His blush deepens. ] Also - I-I think something's wrong here. My device is --

[ Well. You can see for yourself what his device is showing. ]

 

( Cut For Tabloid-Trashy Article (Mildly NSFW) )

[OOC: Hit with Tabloid Trash! The City gets a list of ladies who got tangled up in his business in-canon. Mr. Assassin is PISSED.]

[For those who know him, Jack is looking somewhat unrecognizable again today. Instead of his usual sweater-and-jeans ensemble, he's dressed to the nines in a three-piece suit, and while the jacket is currently draped over the back of a chair, it altogether seems to fit his broad frame maybe a little too well. He looks more interested in the lit cigarette in his hand when the video begins, but by the time he starts to speak, he makes direct eye contact with the camera, his stare more self-assured than perhaps it's ever been.]

The great chain of industry cannot be pulled wantonly by any one man... It does not bend to any higher authority, whether that of the government or any god, but can only be moved by each man struggling in his own endeavors, free of and unfettered by any regulation that would aim to hold him back.

[By this point, if it weren't for his face and voice, his only recognizable characteristic would be the chain link tattoos on his wrists, visible past his rolled-up shirtsleeves. He pauses to take a drag off his cigarette, and gestures with it as he continues.] Or so it should be, at least in a city of this scale. Even in a world far removed from my own — not just my own, but your own, whatever worlds each and every one of us has been stolen away from — the metaphorical hand of the authoritative elite strangles us just as tightly.

But I see no reason why this should keep any one of us from taking action — from pursuing our own ideals in the face of those who seek to keep us in misery. I notice a number of you who already do just this, and I commend you for it, but why not all of us? Should the threat of a curse or the dangling hope of returning home prevent us from striving for innovation, for fortune, for the absolute pinnacle of what we as people can be? Or should we be content to lead our lives as the deities see fit?

[He leans back a bit, giving a soft sigh.] This City cannot compare to my Rapture... In size, maybe, but never in beauty or grandeur. I'm sure many of you would rather return to your own homes, as well. But there's simply no reason why we shouldn't make the best of this place while we're still here.

[He pauses again, and for a moment, the expression on his face flickers with a lapse of his earlier confidence. But it's quickly gone, and he takes a final drag off the cigarette before he stamps it out and speaks it again.]

Turlough, milyj moj. We are still on for tonight, yes? I'm still hoping to make up for last time.

( ooc: as was mentioned over on the plotting post, Jack is currently afflicted by The Years That Never Were and believes himself to have been raised by Andrew Ryan. so basically, he's become mister junior objectivist entrepreneur! whoops. )

( memory theater curse video )

Another one of these weekends, huh? I don't think I'm affected but hopefully I didn't jinx myself by saying that.

[ooc; Amu isn't aware just yet that memory is even on the network, so feel free to point that out! Sorry the video is such low quality, but it was only the decent clip I could find ]

[ The video starts with hysterical, child like laughter, Crepe's wet nose snuffling over the screen. A sleeve rubs against it to clear the smear of her snout, then tilts to get in the small boy's face. ]

Hey, you can't eat this. Steve said. It's bad for you. [ Crepe huffs. Maybe she thinks less of his advice simply because they've snuck out to go and play. He doesn't know. But either way, the boy's grin is wide and mischevious. ] Okay, fetch?

[ The camera swoops down, takes in the baseball glove and ball beside his feet, sneakers already covered in mud. Crepe's tail wags harder and the device drops to the ground because small children have no sense of being careful. The ball gets picked up, tossed in his hand, and then thrown half way across the park. Crepe gallops after it, barking. ]

Awh no, that's a squirrel, not a ball. Come back. [ And guess who's chasing her too? The device can just about pick up the yelling. ] Run you grey goon. My dog's comin' to get you.

( ooc: yep, Bucky's a child for the weekend. Replies will come from buckykins. Feel free to action if you want to run into him in person. )

( And then naked Sif happened. )

One of those weekends, I suppose.

[ooc: Nope, he has noo idea the memory was posted.]

[ The video switches on-- not unbeknownst to Ivy because she remembers the video feed the second it starts, but accidentally no less, and she leaves it in. She's settled on the couch, legs dangling over the edge of it.

There's a tiny owl perched on her hand and Ivy is peering at it, quite seriously. The owl peers back. ]

I would have thought that you could change form. I am a child still, I believe that is the way it is supposed to work. Daemons do not settle until a later age.

[ The owl gives a hooting sound. ] But you are not simply a child.

[ Ivy nods briefly, cut short when Timur jumps up on the couch and Ivy's other hand holds back the cat before it can bat its paw at the owl which has flown from Ivy's hand to settle on her shoulder. ]

You don't need to worry. I won't let him eat you.

[ Loki is smiling. ]

I find myself in rather an inexplicable mood today. [ His smile widens. ] I must say, you are all suffering from the most heart-breakingly amusing curses. It almost makes me more tolerant of your presence. I will give you credit where it is due. You mortals are far better at entertainment than you know.

Perhaps it will make me less inclined to bring the place down around your ears. I shall consider it.

[ A slight frown crosses his face when he says that. While he aims to elevate himself above these mortals, he would ordinarily not admit to it so freely. His words, for once, are unsweetened by lies or trickery, but they leave him before he can prevent that.

That gives him concern, but he still has purpose here. He filters the rest of his message to the deities. ]

DEITIES FILTER

( For the ears of gods, not men )

[People might notice Lewis walking around with this thing following closely behind. Like it wasn't enough that he woke up screaming this morning after finding a talking Tasmanian Devil on his bed, now he has to deal with the fact that it refuses to disappear back into his imagination where he's sure it belongs.]

Get away from me.

[It's very pointedly ignoring him.] No one knows you're gone, Lewis. No one. Not your father, not your mother, not even Danielle. She's your only friend and she won't notice you're gone. Doesn't that bother you?

[It doesn't help that the creature keeps throwing these things at him. Not that it's trying to be helpful.]

I said get away from me! [It's a practiced effort, to stop himself from screaming at an animal in public. That's how he knows he's supposed to be feeling lucid right now. Which doesn't make him sound any calmer.] Christ!

I've... been a bit worried lately. It's stupid of me to be discussing this but before I entered the City, all of my real blood was drained from my body and replaced by Nanomachines for the purpose of the mission. Blood eventually replaces itself though, right...? I haven't suffered any side effects or anything so I can only assume the Nanomachines are still working or they've been flushed from my system and I've got all my normal blood back. Guess I should probably get it checked out..

... And Ivan, I think now would be a good time to get that DNA testing done.


[OOC: TWO DIRTY SECRETS IN ONE. Dun dun duunnn.]

[ This video, this first one? Carla actually meant to post this. It starts with a view of her face, sunlight reflected off a pair of sunglasses, a breeze tugging at her long hair. There's a gentle bobbing motion, and the blue of the ocean water laps at the edges of the video. ]

Goddamnit, Isabela... [ A soft exhale. ]

She's gone, if anyone was looking. I'm taking the ship, but I'm sure she'd want someone who'd drink it to take the booze.


[ Meanwhile, a set of file attachments have been tacked on: ]

[ The contents have come from an untitled folder where she dumped all of her pictures and videos of Mr. Blonde. They are by and large pornographic, some of them were clearly taken on purpose, while others are angled badly, half-hidden in sheets; moments when the device turned itself on. ]

[ Some of the images aren't filthy at all, though. Carla asleep with her arm over the dog, or curled under Blonde's arm, slow kisses. All in all? More than you ever wanted to see of either of them, and more of her relationship than Carla would have liked to show you. The fact that they've appeared simultaneous to her making her address from the ship may be a clue that she's not the one responsible for having them shared. ]

[Video]
[Have a very displeased and disheveled Chevalier shooting a rather nasty look at the device held in one of his hands. His other hand trails off to the side, clearly handcuffed to the wrist of another person off-screen.]

This is... I said I wasn't...

[He heaves a heavy sigh, attempting to reach up with his fettered hand to rub his temple. Naturally, this doesn't work too well.]


[Private to Luke Valentine; Eavesdroppable for Karl]
I suppose kidnapping of this nature isn't considered 'violent'... or perhaps, your spells aren't quite what you thought they were.

[Very irritated to be out of bed and having to deal with anything.]



[ooc: a still grieving Solomon finds himself spirited to the old Phantomhive estate and into handcuffs with his troublesome brother, Karl Fei-Ong. Intervention, Deity style.]

[Video]
[Piglet smooths out a rather large piece of paper in front of his network device which sits on the floor. His little feet carry him around so that he can peer into the recording camera and point at the map in a Meaningful way.]



H-h-hallo there. [He gulps nervously before glancing back at where he's pointing.] This... is the Hundred Acre Wood. I-I mean a Drawing that shows Where 'Everyplace Important' is At in the Hundred Acre Wood.

[Yes. Piglet Can write.

He blinks back at the map, having a Very Unpleasant realization to which he attends to by grabbing up a large pencil and making amendments.]

O-oh d-dear, no. I m-mean this was where things Were... b-b-before O-Owl's House f-fell a-and-

[His voice drops into frantic mutterings as he crosses things out and makes new more 'Accurate' drawings of what People Should expect if they were to Visit.]



[ooc: Piglet = 100 Acre Wood representative for Citizenship Day. Please feel free to ask for a brochure, he'll be happy to draw a new map.]