aradia megido (![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
megidoomed) wrote in ![[community profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/community.png)
undergrounds2015-09-17 05:22 pm
megidoomed) wrote in undergrounds2015-09-17 05:22 pm
Entry tags:
got a feeling like a ghost (september catch-all)
A. generic bookshops r us [Open]
[ Practice makes perfect, and Aradia is downright sick of her control being on the fritz.
She'd picked libraries, this time, and was slowly working her way through all sorts of official public buildings and tiny hipster bookshops in the name of getting her focus back up to scratch - books were usually the same size regardless of topic, and didn't really break if she dropped them too hard. Much easier then lightbulbs. Less expensive, too.
So frequenters of this particular locale might notice a teenager walking in circles clutching a stack of books, occasionally tossing another ontop of the pile whenever she feels confident enough, and... eventually vanishing into thin air when her manifesting ends up giving out. Oops. ]
What was that, about... three minutes? [ Talking to herself isn't weird since usually, nobody can see her. And it's a fun habit regardless. ] This is going to take forever.
B. old bones don't sleep [Open]
[ Despite all attempts to avoid making new friends, she had - only a handful, admittedly, but it'd been enough to bring a little bit of Aradia's old cheerfulness back to the forefront. And then they'd left, one by one, with not a word of warning.
She'd only found out after the fact when she'd tried to reconnect now that she'd patched up her holes, finding silence on her in-person visits and getting no replies from the handful of texts she'd managed to send out, and it kinda hurt. But slipping back into a cycle of sulking and shutting herself away was out of the question, so... she'd work something out.
Eventually, anyway. Today she's just not really feeling it, and anyone visiting the graveyard featuring her headstone might notice a fair bit more ghostly activity then usual. Do be careful of the weeds being systematically shredded by an annoyed ghost. She's not meaning to aim it at anyone. ]
C. fire festival [Backdated to 5/9, Open]
[ Aradia usually avoided the festival itself - sure, watching Straw Jack go up in flames was fun, but it'd been a lot more fun when she was alive to make her own miniature version and burn that instead.
Alas, she's still working out the details of whether ghosts can cause spontaneous combustion. For now she's getting her daily dose of mayhem by lingering in bars near the Festival's shenanigans, spooking patrons and keeping tabs on who can see her and who can't. ]
Soooo, how many fingers am I holding up? If you get it right, maybe I'll help you get the next one for free.
[ Alright, maybe she's tried this one about eight times already, but so what. Shoving her hand in people's faces to see how they react will never not be funny. ]
D. and the cat came back, the very next day [Closed to Willard, dated to 30/9]
[ She couldn't find Clara.
Sure that wasn't too unusual by itself. Ghosts often struggle to find each other even on good days, and she's still not consistent when it comes to manifesting. But Clara was experienced enough to reach out to others. Clara was capable of keeping herself together and staying cool under pressure.
And Clara still left signs that she'd been around, usually, even when she'd been having her own troubles. Except now she couldn't find any, and Aradia'd spent all her life talking to the dead. She knew enough to put the pieces together.
She'd done a remarkable job of not lashing out, for the most part. A few lightbulbs were to be expected, but the usual catastrophe was mercifully avoided because she's fine. She's not thinking about this. She's--
--traumatized a cat, if the ensuing muffled yowl is any indication. The box it'd been hiding in had been blown backwards during Aradia's internalized freakout, spilling a pool of water to the sidewalk and a cat to the middle of it. Which spared no time in staring up at her with the biggest, saddest eyes she'd ever seen and kicking her hard in the guilt. It looks so small... ]
[ Approximately ten minutes after the kitten has been awkwardly shuffled into Will's apartment and dumped on the couch, the following text gets sent by one very baffled ghost: ]
so i think i just stole someones cat
in my defense it really wasnt on purpose
E. wildcard!
[ Or, choose your own adventure/ask me to write up a specific hook! I don't mind either way. Prose also available for any of the above hooks on request - hit me up at![[plurk.com profile]](https://plurk.com/favicon.ico)
elimyx if you'd like to plot something out in particular. ]
[ Practice makes perfect, and Aradia is downright sick of her control being on the fritz.
She'd picked libraries, this time, and was slowly working her way through all sorts of official public buildings and tiny hipster bookshops in the name of getting her focus back up to scratch - books were usually the same size regardless of topic, and didn't really break if she dropped them too hard. Much easier then lightbulbs. Less expensive, too.
So frequenters of this particular locale might notice a teenager walking in circles clutching a stack of books, occasionally tossing another ontop of the pile whenever she feels confident enough, and... eventually vanishing into thin air when her manifesting ends up giving out. Oops. ]
What was that, about... three minutes? [ Talking to herself isn't weird since usually, nobody can see her. And it's a fun habit regardless. ] This is going to take forever.
B. old bones don't sleep [Open]
[ Despite all attempts to avoid making new friends, she had - only a handful, admittedly, but it'd been enough to bring a little bit of Aradia's old cheerfulness back to the forefront. And then they'd left, one by one, with not a word of warning.
She'd only found out after the fact when she'd tried to reconnect now that she'd patched up her holes, finding silence on her in-person visits and getting no replies from the handful of texts she'd managed to send out, and it kinda hurt. But slipping back into a cycle of sulking and shutting herself away was out of the question, so... she'd work something out.
Eventually, anyway. Today she's just not really feeling it, and anyone visiting the graveyard featuring her headstone might notice a fair bit more ghostly activity then usual. Do be careful of the weeds being systematically shredded by an annoyed ghost. She's not meaning to aim it at anyone. ]
C. fire festival [Backdated to 5/9, Open]
[ Aradia usually avoided the festival itself - sure, watching Straw Jack go up in flames was fun, but it'd been a lot more fun when she was alive to make her own miniature version and burn that instead.
Alas, she's still working out the details of whether ghosts can cause spontaneous combustion. For now she's getting her daily dose of mayhem by lingering in bars near the Festival's shenanigans, spooking patrons and keeping tabs on who can see her and who can't. ]
Soooo, how many fingers am I holding up? If you get it right, maybe I'll help you get the next one for free.
[ Alright, maybe she's tried this one about eight times already, but so what. Shoving her hand in people's faces to see how they react will never not be funny. ]
D. and the cat came back, the very next day [Closed to Willard, dated to 30/9]
[ She couldn't find Clara.
Sure that wasn't too unusual by itself. Ghosts often struggle to find each other even on good days, and she's still not consistent when it comes to manifesting. But Clara was experienced enough to reach out to others. Clara was capable of keeping herself together and staying cool under pressure.
And Clara still left signs that she'd been around, usually, even when she'd been having her own troubles. Except now she couldn't find any, and Aradia'd spent all her life talking to the dead. She knew enough to put the pieces together.
She'd done a remarkable job of not lashing out, for the most part. A few lightbulbs were to be expected, but the usual catastrophe was mercifully avoided because she's fine. She's not thinking about this. She's--
--traumatized a cat, if the ensuing muffled yowl is any indication. The box it'd been hiding in had been blown backwards during Aradia's internalized freakout, spilling a pool of water to the sidewalk and a cat to the middle of it. Which spared no time in staring up at her with the biggest, saddest eyes she'd ever seen and kicking her hard in the guilt. It looks so small... ]
[ Approximately ten minutes after the kitten has been awkwardly shuffled into Will's apartment and dumped on the couch, the following text gets sent by one very baffled ghost: ]
so i think i just stole someones cat
in my defense it really wasnt on purpose
E. wildcard!
[ Or, choose your own adventure/ask me to write up a specific hook! I don't mind either way. Prose also available for any of the above hooks on request - hit me up at
No trouble!
He regards her a moment in what can only be described as utter contempt before looking away, expression twisting into a mix of irritation and distaste. For a moment he cannot decide how to react, so incensed as he is, then he fixes his eyes on her again with a frown.
"Name?" he prompts, clearly expecting her to give hers. He can hardly make a formal complain about her without it, after all!
no subject
Only a bit, though. It's more fun to mess with people, and now that she's aware of it, it's far too tempting to prod him until something blows up in her metaphorical face.
"Wow, rude. That's not a very nice way to ask." So maybe now she's being a brat on purpose. Nobody can prove anything. "Tell me your name first, then I'll tell you mine. It's only fair that way."
And with that, she bends down to start rebuilding her haphazard book pile. Her stubbornness has a grain of sense to it, in all honesty - names are power, and giving hers away to someone so clearly annoyed by her presence could only end badly. She's got enough of her common sense left to work that out.
no subject
"My name," he begins, with as much ire as he can channel while keeping his voice at a respectable volume, "is Gilbert Norrell -- and I've a mind to see you exorcised if you keep up that tone."
Maybe. Probably. It's also entirely possible if she gave him a good fright he'd flee himself, yet all the same the principle of the thing --! A ghost somewhere so public! What if she was seen, if she drew attention? Admittedly most such things with credence are covered up, but the thought! Oh, he would not be able to come here again! People might think him involved!