SPOOKY HEAVEN

[kinetic]

Happy Halloween!

Welcome! Everything is fine.

Don't worry if you can't remember how you died. We erased your memory of that moment to help with the transition. Based on a complex calculus that assigns a numeric value to all your thoughts and actions while you were alive, you have earned a spot in the Good Place! Enjoy your afterlife.

For Halloween, the little walkable suburban neighborhood of your Good Place has adopted a few new features. The entities in charge want to make sure everyone feels at home without missing what they felt made life fun before! Feel free to play with any/all of the following prompts:

• Ambient 'spooky' music plays at all hours of the day and in every location, broken up every 9.15 hours by Miley Cyrus' cover of Nine Inch Nails' "Head Like a Hole."


• A silent but friendly clown jumpscares everyone and offers them a balloon animal, even in private moments.


• Every restaurant has exclusively candy corn themed dishes.


• Roller skates are "in" and everyone is provided with a pair so they can skate everywhere.


• Houses are remodeled to have haunting effects and/or corn mazes.


• That person you hate is hosting a group watch of people's deaths on the screens that play people's memories from their own POV.


• Due to a misinterpretation of "bloody hearts" as 'just a British thing,' the town festival is actually Valentine's-themed.

Make related (or unrelated!) top-levels, posts, etc. to your heart's content.

Comments

natha (the dark urge) | bg3 (cw: clowns, murder, gore)

[brainwormed]

[ natha has murdered the clown.

to be fair, he startled her. to be extra fair, the noise that balloons make when they rub against each other is sinful, and who wouldn't murder someone who kept making it by folding balloons into animal shapes?

now the little voice in her head is begging them to make balloon animals out of his intestines as they spill out onto the charming walkable brick streets that wind through the neighborhood. hopefully people just mistake the blood streak for seasonal decor, and not as a sign that someone is currently struggling to drag a clown corpse behind the cotton candy corn cart to hide it. ]

[bummers]

[Briar knows the scent of blood. She knows its shape, and how it's different from TV blood (old), TV blood (recent), and things in glossy magazines. Blood isn't really all that vibrant. It's got the same consistency as water, before it starts to dry. It's not like paint or syrup, though Briar has had much more experience with real blood than either paint or syrup. But she knows what those things look like. She's read magazines.]

[(She assumes that paint is somewhat chunky.)]

[This strange woman with her strange hair and odd-colored skin has real blood on her. In an attempt to present as normal, Briar refocuses her gaze, standing straight rather than slouching. If you look like a prey animal, you'll flight more than fight.] Are you a butcher?

[Briar sees blood and thinks people, but she knows that's not what a normal person is supposed to think. She's not sure she really wants to be normal, but she'd like the option.]

[brainwormed]

[ natha straightens when she hears the voice. there is the tell-tale thump of unsupported weight colliding with the stonework. legs, dropped haphazardly. when her eyes find briar's, they are empty black pits except for the glowing red ring of irises, the pupils at their center fixed sharp on her. ]

A ... butcher. [ she doesn't dare look back down at the body. at the festive orange flair of the clown's ruffled costume. she nods, slowly at first, but committing to the bit. what are the odds she'll ever speak to this woman again? (high. but she doesn't know how small a neighborhood is yet.) ] Yes. I love killing ... animals.

[ wait. ]

Did you need something?

[bummers]

[This woman looks haunted. Not haunted by time or trauma, but like she's got ghosts in her bones, and cobwebs between the ribs. She looks cursed. Briar is immediately, intrinsically drawn to that strangeness. Anything that isn't of the world is good, a separation; life is a hole you have to climb out of.]

[It makes her ignore the woman's answer-- not entirely, you can't really un-hear the sentence I love killing animals, even if you, like Briar, have no empathy at all for nonhuman life. But she doesn't express the fact that the sentence is, in itself, abnormal (which would probably be the normal thing to do).]

Where are you from?

[brainwormed]

[ is this a thing people do? just hold casual conversation like this? natha tries to recall, but as with most things in the soup of their mind, the memory feels lost. it feels abnormal. it feels abnormal that briar has not answered her question. ]

A little bit Menzoberranzan. A little bit Baldur's Gate. [ and a little bhaal. he's still there, isn't he? if he weren't still there, the clown would be alive. unless that was just ... natha. unless the line between what's bhaal and what's her is growing thin. ]

Why?

[bummers]

[From ending up in a place that might have been Denver, Briar has learned that many people are too polite to mention when you ignore a question, as long as you don't do it every time. Politeness is a weakness, so it's okay to take advantage of it, so long as you can still use your social strengths (Briar is aware that she is, to some people, conventionally attractive) not to show the weakness of abnormality.]

[The weakness that admitting ignorance is. But Briar's used up her stock of questions she can ignore, at least for now.] I- I've never seen somebody like you before.

[Her gaze drifts downward, awkwardness, submission.]

[brainwormed]

[ a drow, she doesn't say. maybe because she doesn't have the word, even. but natha's expression curdles all the same. it's nothing she didn't get up the entire sword coast, but-- ]

You can gawk from afar. Silently.

cw: cannibalism, I'm so sorry

[sheofhunger]

[ The Lamb had so clearly devised this place as sick torment for the ones that sacrificed him. From the charming pathways to the well kept gardens, and none of it as beautiful as her Anura. Insidiously cheerful, and the pumpkins are a mockery of her realm.

Which is to say, that Heket feels that clown had it coming and if someone didn't do it first, she would have.

She sees the creature dragging the corpse of the damnable thing down the path, as best it can - and in desperate need to make sure the clown doesn't invade one more second of her precious time, Heket does the practical thing with her large, strong frame - and helps by grabbing the legs, to haul the dead body along towards somewhere secluded. ]


.... we... could... eat it.....?

[ comes the horrendous, rasping, broken voice. Bandages wrap her throat, hiding her wound. She is a tall being, though not in her proper form, her eyes are a deep black animal pit, the red burning from within. ]


.... make sure... doesn't come.... back.

[lymbo]

[ She's got a churro in one hand, and a sword over her shoulder in the other, watching the struggle for probably longer than she shoulder before clearing her throat, raising an eyebrow. ]

Do you need help?

juna (oc)

[pilgrimages]

01. Isn't it a little on the nose to celebrate Halloween in a neighborhood full of dead people?

02. If I wanted to eat something that wasn't candy corn...

03. [ an incoherent screaming sound at 2:18 am from inside your neighbor's house, which is a funky 70s love den without any furniture aside from cushions and futon pads thrown across the floor, as miley cyrus' "head like a hole" kicks in again. ]

1.

[heurist]

Speaking technically, isn't every neighborhood full of dead people?

[pilgrimages]

Dead inside, maybe.
Otherwise, I think it depends on the proximity to the nearest graveyard.
Unless they do things very differently where you're from.

[heurist]

OH you're just talking about dead people that are physically up and walking around.
Yeah.
I guess that makes sense.
Anyway you could argue the afterlife/zombie apocalypse is the best time to do Halloween.
It's on theme, which is, according to the 1979's November issue of House & Garden, creates a sense of joie de vivre.

[pilgrimages]

[ wow. house and garden? she definitely doesn't belong here. ]

Must've missed that one.
Guess it's more joie de mort around here, anyway.

[heurist]

Maybe.
Not very goth, though.
If I knew I'd go to the set of a very Marxist children's show when I died, I'd have tried harder to get into Hell.

[pilgrimages]

How hard did you try?

[heurist]

Everyone has a Satanism phase.

[pilgrimages]

I'm not sure that's true.

[heurist]

Maybe not everyone.
But some teenagers have more of an internet connection than a personality.
But I'm talking about myself too much.
What about you?
What did you do to get here?

2.

[effed]

The Italian place has a candy corn shaped dessert made out of lemon, orange, and apple sorbet.

It was about a teaspoon of each but they probably have a full vat in the kitchen, right?

alina starkov (grishaverse)

[sunmon]

[ someone alina just met and has already decided she hates (probably out of sheer jealousy), or someone she already hated from ravka like aleksander or zoya, is hosting a watch-night. the news came if not via an invitation extended to alina, then by some poor soul mentioning it to her and asking if she plans to go.

either way, the answer is the same: ]

If I decide I want to become very depressed and maudlin, I'll keep it in mind, but don't wait for me. I'm surprised anyone is going.

[godofthearena]

Death can be funny. More so when one is already dead.

[Gannicus was less interested in viewing the death memories than he was those that were going.]

But perhaps not to one such as you. I have seen much death, little of it bothers any more. I was dead long before I was dead.

Had hoped you'd go. Make enduring that cocksucker worth it.

[lymbo]

What, you don't want to see the Greatest Hits?

[ Illyana smirks, just a little, arms crossed as she glances off in the direction of the.... "party". ]

Could be something funny.

Gannicus | Spartacus

[godofthearena]

1. Jupiter's cock, what witchcraft be this? Each door leads to hallway instead of fucking latrine.

2. [Gannicus stood at the top of a hill with a pair of roller skates, looking between them and the pitch of the hill. Grinning wildly, he laughed with excitement before grabbing the arm of the person passing by.]

Help strap wheels to feet so I can fucking fly.