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ATTENTION ALL CITIZENS:

It is All Hallow's Eve, and things are beginning to change.

The black pen in your pocket now has blue ink. When you reach for your keys, you've got your boss's horrible, Florida-shaped keychain instead. The milk you put out for the building's gremlin changes to beer. You didn't own that sock yesterday.

It’s an inconvenience, but only that. You got the trick instead of the treat.

#offline #players only

the end of wsc:academy: an ooc meme

A) what are the main differences (and enduring similarities!) between your character in Academy and your character in NOIR, regarding:

their home life

their development as a teenager who didn’t get to go to magic school!

their relationship with their powers

the mechanics of their powers

their perception of themselves

their self esteem

the way they interact with the world

the things that matter most to them

the things they most want

their values and moral code

their friendships

their love life

their hobbies and passions

what they’re working towards

B) your perception of your character:

why did you apply with your character in academy?

what did you imagine they’d be like at the beginning of the rp? how did they develop differently during the course of the rp?

how do you think other characters impacted the development of your own

were you ultimately happy with how they changed, and would you do anything different if you were to write them a second time?

what surprised you most about the way your character developed?

did anything go exactly as you planned or expected? if so, what?

are there any facets of your character in their application that never got acted on in the rp?

what’s the thing you love most about your character in academy and NOIR?

what’s your favorite arc that you’ve written for your character?

C) what would be some ideal plotlines that you’d love to write in noir, that you didn’t get to write in academy?

relationships-wise

plot-wise

power-development wise

backstory/lore-wise

shenanigans-wise

career-wise

future partner/kids-wise

other!

#PLAYERS ONLY

My 24k Magic Players Only jacket came today! 🎉💕

#bruno mars #hooligans #love #24kmagic #Players Only #24k magic world tour

AN INCIDENT(?) ON SUBWAY CAR #9

This City is a bitch.

You know that. You love it and hate it depending on the day. The minute. The line to get into Mel’s Diner. The number of tentacles reaching out to grab you from the sewers. The mandatory blood rituals and street cleaning day.

This City is a bitch.

You know that, but you do not think about it. You get onto the subway, with its flickering lights and its sharp smell of formaldehyde, and the rats running alongside with your cart blink at you in morse code to quit staring, kid. You do not think about that either. You are thinking about the long day you’ve had, and that the train was twenty minutes late. You are thinking about how you’re going to avoid being eaten by your landlord next month. You are thinking about the dhampir who ghosted you last Friday. Mostly, you are thinking about how much you hate pumpkin spice.

You are thinking about nothing at all: just letting the clack-clack-clack of the conductor’s arms and the too-sharp corners of the train lull you into that fitful state of dissociation unique to public transport.

Maybe you ride the subway every day. Maybe this is a once in a lifetime experience. But today, random chance has brought you to Subway Car #9 on the 9.47pm [Sͯ̀̇͗̚͡T̍̐̊ͤͫͬ̑͢͏́A̓ͮ̂̈ͧͫ͐̓̀̕͟T̶̨̓̔̄ͧ͐͠͡Ï̶̴ͨ̇ͫC̡̡̔̋͂̏̒ͥ̅ͣ̀̓̀] line, where it has similarly inconvenienced other denizens of The City. Bored, you glance around and see a mushroom person — that’s a first — and look away to the scowling, scarred woman with the bloody knuckles — wow, does she need to go to a hospital? — and triple-take at the gorgeous man in the oil-stained fur coat. You try not to stare at a frankenstoid as he bumps his head on the ceiling — you are not like those born people. You get a headache glancing at the person glitching beside you — god, it’s so rude not to turn that off — and a worse one from the dark-haired woman whose eyeball is out of place, just for a second. You nod to a timid child dressed impeccably. You hear muffled laughter as a pair of twins take too many selfies together. You feel like they’re judging you.

You think: It’s been a while since the last station.

And then you don’t think at all.

The view from Subway Car #9’s windows turns from void, then stars, then, finally, to flesh. Dark red membranes slide over the window, leaving thick streaks of entrails. Half-digested creatures gasp and cling to the outside doors. You think you see the guy who is normally behind the deli counter at your corner store. His eyes are melting.

You are in the stomach of something bigger than your mind can comprehend.

WE ARE [Şͯ͑͛̄ͣͪ̐̔͏̷̞̥̯̳͎̠̣͔̫̝̜T̸̨̰͖̥̩͔̭̘̘̫͓̞̦̜̙͈̑ͦ͋͐̾̌́ͪ͐ͦͣͨ̆̃͋̍̕ͅĄ̸̷̴̱̪̝̗ͯ̆͆̾ͮ͗̄͐̿͂ͦ̋͋̈́̍̈͗̚͘T̈͒̓͊ͮ͞҉͉̖̰̹͔͕̩̞̞̯̮̩́ͅI̡̧̨̲͍͕̥͈̣̘̼̯̞̹͉͕̞͍͎̬͒̈́̂̈́̄̀̈̐̑͠͡ͅC̸̩̯̗̥̦̳̹̳͖̥̍͂͆ͭ̒ͥ̒ͫ̽ͪͩ-] DELAYS, says the conductor through the tinny speakers. WE APOLOGI[S̶̏͒̉͗̃̃͂ͮ͆̑ͥ̿̆҉̧̘̯̥̫̲̯̰̻͇̭͞͠Ş̳̪̳̪͐̈́͊̇ͦ́͜͢͜S̵̹̟̗͈͕̪̟̰̙̼̺͉ͫ̔̾̌̽́̈͊̔͑͐̉̾̋ͬ̍̅̚͘͟ͅS̴̨̧̧̝̱͇̹̟̩̣͈͎̬̦͋̅̅̽ͬ̔S̴̴̘̠̪͇̙̖̹̥̣̦͍̭͎̰̞͉̯̥̬̑̿ͭ͒͑ͤͩ͒̆̍̒ͫͥ̓͋̐͘͢͞Ş̸͖͎̤̟͍̦̠͙̱̮͎̝̲̍́̄̌̊͐̓ͤ̑̅ͨ̄̉̆ͅH̨̰̫̗̳͓͓̟̘̱̞̜̹͈͕̲͚̣ͮ̎ͭ̚͟Ĥ̸̡̧̱̟͈̙̩̤̳̰̖̟͈̤̿͊ͤ̅ͤ̿̀͋̾̒̕͡H̡̨̹̪̞̩͔̖͚͈̻̗͙̭̼ͣ́͊ͭ͒͌̍͛̾͗́̃͆͢H̵̭͉̖̝̾̂̈́͒̾̓ͧ̽̎ͫ̄̽̋̆̇ͮ͑͝͝H--] FOR ANY INCONVEN[C̷̹̤͙͇̩̟͎͍̟̹̖͙͎̍ͣ̇ͩͫͣ̑ͮ̃͒̌̽̎́̚C̵̨̨̡̩͉͎̑̓̔ͣ̆̒̌̃͟C̃̈́̿̈̂͋ͣ̽̓̆ͥͣ͑ͨ͛ͨͯ̚͢҉͖̣͙̱C̢͉̘̦͚̟̲̘͔̾̾̾̌ͫͪͨ͝C̸̶͙̪̥͖̯̳̹̖͉͛̉̂ͯͅC̴̨̬̟̰̻͇͙̗͋ͯ̏ͫ̄̋̈́̐ͧ̀͐̐͊̿͟͡C̼̖͈̤̼͖ͬͭ̓̔̎̉̈̄͘Ḣ̶̢͓͚̖͉͎̖͎͍̜̠͚̓͛̋͌ͫ̏̾ͥ̅̊̕͟].

The metal of the car screams; it is hot and smoky as stomach acid begins to melt through the linings of the windows. You might look at your phone, and think about who to text your final goodbye to, but just your luck: zero fucking bars. You might try to fight, banging your fists against the windows, and sizzle your skin for your efforts. You might cry, which will bring the ire of your neighbor: where do you think you are, they might sneer. New York?

And then you are out the other side. SORRY ABOUT THAT, FOLKS, says the conductor. TRACK MAINTENAͤ̋̎̈̈͜͏͕͓̼̯͎̼̙̙̞͚̦͎̠̕͝ͅNCE.

As if by unanimous agreement, everyone gets off at the next station.

There is slime on your windows, but no other cars. In fact, when you peer through the windows, no one else seems fazed at all.

This City is a bitch.

And it has, once again, made sure you know your place.

#prose #introduction #players only #offline

Attention:

It is between witching hour and dawn. Everyone is in bed, even the Artume students: to sleep, perchance to astral travel. The sky is washed in a deep and maudlin haze; the moon on the verge of winking out like the sleepy eye of some huge creature. No one is dreaming of anything, or perhaps everyone is dreaming of the same thing: a rushing sound, almost wave-like past your ears, the static roar before an impact that you only realize was there once it’s gone. The dream swells and creaks around you, buzzing through your teeth, tremoring under your fingernails, rattling the posts of your bed against the floor, bigger and louder and emptier and pinning you to the mattress. Over the PA system, the sounds of a struggle: glass breaks, and the microphone whines as the Dean pants out, perhaps with the slightest edge of panic: STUDENTS--

You all wake up at once. On the highway behind the school, an ambulance wails for the first time in the history of Wollstonecraft Academy.

When you peer out your window, there is a town. It is not Blackedge. When you venture out of your dorm, the streets that used to roll and breathe under your feet are now flat concrete, with dandelions growing lonely and green between the cracks; the sky that was mostly void, partially stars is replaced with constellations of the northern hemisphere. A rustic wooden sign claims that you are now entering Fall Gap, population two thousand and forty-two. There is a diner, where waitresses in yellow smocks smack their gum and say, more coffee, hun?. There is a forest, where the occasional bear is sighted and the greatest danger on a trail is getting lost. There is a gas station, and a hardware store, and a derelict mall on its last legs, already half-overgrown.

There are no professors in your classrooms. The gargoyles have fallen silent; the hooded figures did not return from their coffeebreak.

The Dean is nowhere to be found.

[RULES:

Humans in Fall Gap will be able to recognize visibly supernatural students as being supernatural and will react accordingly, unless the students do something to change or mask their appearance

No one from Fall Gap will quite remember life without that old boarding school on the edge of town, but pushing on the topic in conversation will leave them confused and irritable.

Nobody from either Fall Gap or Wollstonecraft Academy can leave the town limits. If you drive out of town, you will always end up right back where you started… For now.

The school’s magic and defenses are now defunct.

The town has most of the hallmarks of average small-town, Pacific Northwestern America. Writers can and should invent locations for their characters to explore.]

#players only #offline

[It’s five minutes to the end of last period, and every student in the school finds their eye drawn to the clock, hypnotically, the ticking becoming a buzzing becoming a gong becoming a scream from the loudspeaker that wails like something from the depths of the lake: a long, haunting note that is suddenly choked off into a cough, as if the Dean had started speaking on the wrong frequency.

“DELICIOUS STUDENTS,” it says pleasantly over the PA system. “WELCOME BACK.”

“WE HAVE HEARD YOUR PLEAS.

WE HAVE UNDERSTOOD YOUR AILMENTS.

WELCOME TO THE YEAR OF THE HUMAN, AND MAY YOU LEARN TO FIGHT OFF YOUR ENEMIES IN THE WORLD OF CARBON-BASED BODIES AND CABLE TV

WOLLSTONECRAFT HAS A LONG AND PROUD HISTORY OF HELPING THE UNUSUAL, OTHERWORLDLY AND UNORTHODOX FIND THEIR PLACE IN THIS WORLD, AS WELL AS THEIR COMMUNITY IN THIS SLIGHTLY SMALLER BUT EQUALLY COMPLEX WORLD.

WITH MUCH GLEE WOLLSTONECRAFT ANNOUNCES OUR OPENING WEEK:

‘FRIENDS AND PALS: HOW TO BUILD ALLIANCES THAT WILL LAST AT LEAST THREE AND AN EIGHTH LIFETIMES.’”

Every student is now MAGICALLY HANDCUFFED to someone from their cohort (♬zero feet apart cus they’re not gay♬). The handcuffs are pleasantly pink and fluffy, although appearances may change over time. The handcuffs are sized to fit the wrist they’re attached to. They do not come off, and to even try would disturb the spirit of the exercise! You don’t want that, do you? Do you?

D̵̸̥̣̗̼͕̭͚̹͔ͤͮ̒̊̃ͨͧ̇̃̈͘͟O̧̨̧̲͖̞̞͇͇͍͓̠̺͖͎̟̘̳̘̩̗̊ͥͭ̅͑̋̍̈͐̃ͮ͑͛̋ͣ́ͅ ̶̸̸͉̰̺̖̯͍̩̣̮̑̏̆̊̊͗ͧ̉̇ͦͮ̀́̍̈́͗̍͜ͅY̟͎̮͙͓̣̟̩͙̥̪͎͉̮̲̱̤ͤ̇͒̎͒̀̓͗͑ͨ̿ͩ͛͢O͆ͥ͌̓̽̃̌̾ͭ̈ͤ̾҉҉̩̻̼͎̩͉̦̹͇̰͙͈Ư̥͕̻̜͓̠̜̫̠͖̥̙͛̇ͣ̉̋ͮͦ̓ͦ͋ͣ̀̈́̑͢?̶̱̭̠̹̤͈͍̺̳̻̋̅̌ͮ̂̓̅̇͌͟͠͠

The pairs are:

dinari - corbin

hollis - devyn

lila - daisy

arash - soap

theresa - carolyn

theo - moire

noah - clea

reagan - hymie

ai - misha

aud - kalli

ivanya - thiren