Obsidian Penitentiary (![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
thecommissary) wrote in ![[community profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/community.png)
obsidianooc2020-07-03 08:01 pm
thecommissary) wrote in obsidianooc2020-07-03 08:01 pm
Entry tags:
test drive;
 TDM Guidelines 1. We strongly encourage you to post to the AU Workshop before posting here, just to get your concept out there. Feel free to link to your workshop post in your tag for easy lookup purposes. 2. Threads can be game canon if both players agree to it. 3. No one is late! Consider this a permanent test drive (until captcha is hit, if that happens). We'll be tracking top-levels and drawing attention to new posts. 4. You don't have to use any of the prompts below; feel free to create your own! 5. Don't worry about cell block assignments for the purpose of the TDMm if you haven't chosen one - feel free to keep it vague or retcon the threads a bit later.  Prompt 1: Common Room The common room has books, magazines, newspapers, cards, and board games. The television has been out of commission for a while, but oh! Look! It seems like a new TV has been mounted on the wall! And this one's a 32 inch flat screen, a nice substitute for the old broken tube TV someone broke over a Monopoly dispute turned violent. If you decide to watch the TV, the screen cuts to static a few minutes after you start watching and a strange voice starts to speak. It's a soft voice, but with the occasional distortion as if spoken by a person standing too close too a microphone. "Hello there! You must be [CHARACTER NAME]. I think it's about time you got to know somebody a little bit better. Why don't you..." (Choose one of the following options:)
"If you decide to ignore me, or you tell anyone you're not acting of your own free will, the guard beside the magazine stand will send you strait to the SHU for two weeks.. Your choice." No one else in the common room seems to hear the voice except you - although the aforementioned guard sure seems to be staring you down. The other people watching TV continue to react to the show that was playing.  Prompt 2: Lockdown Uh-oh. Something bad must have happened, because the entire prison has been put into lockdown without bothering to herd everyone back to their proper blocks. You've been herded into a cell with someone from ANY block, and who knows when you'll be let out. You have a set of bunk beds, a table and chair, a toilet and sink, and two shelves where the inmates who actually reside in that cell have put anything that belongs to them. Now's a good time to get to know your new temporary cellmate. Or pray that you're on good terms, if you already know them.  Prompt 3: The Yard It's recreation time! Your daily opportunity for a couple hours of fresh air, if you choose to take it (or if the indoor guards are sick of you and decide you're going outside whether you like it or not). The guards here are primarily concerned with preventing your escape, so if you're not lingering around the fences you'll be watched less than if you were inside. If you're new, weak, or don't have a solid group of allies yet, that also means it's less likely that anyone will help you if someone else decides to pick a fight. Be careful. The outdoor guards to a careful, meticulous sweep of the entire area every night, trying to keep...something out. It seems they were slacking off a bit yesterday: the tiniest sliver of obsidian rock has made its way into the yard undetected and - ow - you've brushed up against it, embedding it somewhere on your body. The shard has imbued you with one of the following effects:
Regardless of the effect, the shard will slowly start to burn hotter and hotter, compelling you to remove it. |
Eliot Waugh // The Magicians
[ Eliot doesn't really care much about television. But, he cares about books even less, and this place doesn't have anything in the way of a good fashion magazine (seriously, how hard is it to get any publication of Vogue in here?), so television it is. Maybe he can find something reasonably entertaining, like The Kardashians.
He can't find the remote, but it's no problem for him. Eliot's tall enough he can reach up easily and press power, and he immediately frowns at the static. Really. They can't have anything nice here. And then there's the weird voice, and for a second, Eliot's almost certain it's coming from the guard watching him, even if the guard's mouth doesn't move.
Steal a snack, it says.
And you know what? Eliot is sort of hungry. And he finds someone with something sugary and chocolatey and that looks perfect. ]
For me? You shouldn't have.
[ He'll just be grabbing that snack cake from you, thank you very much. ]
➼ ii. LOCKDOWN
Great.
[ Eliot's never really liked being on someone else's schedule, but he especially doesn't like being on someone's unpredictable schedule. The lockdown interrupts what should have been a relatively decent day by prison standards, but the guards are so frantic this time that they don't care where the prisoners go as long as they're locked up.
So not only does Eliot bristle that his routine is interrupted, but now he's not even in his own cell, with his own meager comforts. He huffs out an annoyed breath through his nose and grips the bars, peering down the hall to see if he can figure out what's got the staff so spooked. ]
You know, I bet if someone gets shanked because of this, these guards won't get anything more than a slap on their wrist for fucking up.
[ After all, you can't just put anyone together in this place. Actually - Eliot hopes a fight breaks out. The gossip will be sort of exciting. ]
➼ iii. THE YARD
[ He still can't believe they can't smoke out here. Reasonably, Eliot gets it. To light a cigarette you need fire, and there's some fucked up people here, and fire's probably not a good idea. Also, cigarettes themselves can be used in pretty nasty ways, but it just doesn't seem fair. Why not let them smoke one by one, in a little corner, with a guard to annoy them the whole time?
(It doesn't matter too much. Eliot has a few menthols cleverly hidden away that he gets a few puffs out of each night, which helps.)
Still, what's the point of being outside otherwise? What's he supposed to do, go for a walk around the yard ten times? Maybe he can just watch guys be eye candy with the gym equipment. Which is what he's doing when he gets a little shard of rock embedded in his hand.
And then, he laughs. It starts off small, then it bubbles up out of him, delighted and a bit high pitched and he can't really stop. He doesn't want to stop. Maybe fresh air really is good for them, because suddenly, he feels great. ]
➼ OOC NOTE
Here is Eliot's AU comment. After further discussion, he's going to essentially be one of the "leaders" of his cellblock (his reputation essentially the High King Of Cellblock A, you know, because of the drugs). But he'll need to play nice with people all over if he wants to make sure he can distribute all sorts of contraband - not just drugs, but other things that maybe aren't allowed in - around the prisoners. Come make friends. :)
i
- and then it gets snatched right out of his hands. Alright. He knows how this works, he's seen enough movies about prison to know that if someone picks on you your first day there and you don't stand up for yourself, you're forever labeled a pussy that everyone else can push around without consequence.
So he stands up, his fists clenched. Eliot is taller, but Billy's got muscle. He's not too worried. He also has no idea who Eliot is, because he's too new to be familiar with reputations and know who he's better off not trying to pick a fight with. ]
Give that back. [ He bares his teeth. ] Before I take it back.
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
...
...
...
...
...
iii.
[One sardonic scowl approaching at three o' clock, uncovered eye flicking between her friend and the little workout posse. A damn good view, she'll admit, but this isn't "looking at bulging muscles" kind of laughter. This is "accidentally tripping balls at a bougie sushi restaurant that one time" kind of laughter. Margo kicks through the rough grass - muttering out a motherfucker as her prison-issue socks go up against something sharp and lose - and comes to stand at his side.]
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
...
...
...
ii. lockdown;
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
iii;;
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
...
ii
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
common room
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
...
Rook | Far Cry 5
[ The common room. Rook hasn't decided yet whether it's the best or worst time of day. It could be somewhere in between, maybe. It's nice to not be in his cell, but he's had enough on his mind without having to talk to people. He's always been quiet to some extent. Friendly enough, but not exactly the life of the party - unless in the right company. Which, surely no one here is.
He's sitting near a wall, making himself as unnoticeable as possible, reading a worn copy of Frederik Pohl's The Day The Martians Came. The sounds of the television catch his ear, and he finds he can't ignore it. He glances up finally, and has somewhat spaced out, paying attention to neither book nor tv when the picture filters to static. You must be Rook.
David stares. John's voice? Maybe Joseph- no, that couldn't be. God, how long was the Bliss going to fuck with his head? He thinks to ignore the rest of the message - ask them what they did - but that guard is staring at him with intent. He's pretty sure, anyway. The SHU was worse than whatever answer he'd get. Probably.
He heaves a sigh, finger marking his place in the book that's still in hand, and he moves across to a table with someone else. ] So... what're you in for? [ Wasn't that the one thing you weren't supposed to ask? And couldn't he have thought of a less cliche way to do just that?]
ʟᴏᴄᴋᴅᴏᴡɴ
[ The frantic push of people into whatever cell they're nearest is something that leaves Rook irritable even after he's safely in a room. Anxiety burrows beneath his ribcage, electric and uncomfortable. It reminds him of something, but he can't quite put his finger on what. He's not sure he wants to.
He stands by the closed door for too long, like he's paralyzed, staring at nothing in particular. He seems to suddenly realize that he's not alone, startling at the other person stuck in here.
Well, this is probably... bad. Maybe. Maybe not?
Uselessly, he nods his greetings, and takes a seat. Voice tired, and strained, he offers: ] I'm David Rook. [ Might as well start there. ]
ᴛʜᴇ ʏᴀʀᴅ
[ Rook never really ran for running's sake, on the rez. At the academy, he'd picked it up right quick for the fitness test. Now, it was good for something to do in the yard - even if he felt like a hamster in a wheel. He brushes against something, avoiding another inmate, and feels a sting.
The fuck was that? he thinks, and the voice that responds is not his own - but it sounded like it was in his head. His gaze darts up, locking with the nearest person, and he stares as if trying to figure them out. ]
{ ooc: Rook's AU workshop is here. He's relatively new and is trying to keep his head down. If you have a different idea you'd like to play, let me know! I'll match brackets or prose. }
lockdown;
It's his cell and he hasn't left it, and it's as decked out as it can be: he's been here for awhile, if the bookshelf with books is anything to go by. If that's not enough of a clue, his complete passivity to the fuss outside his cell is another big tip-off.
When the stranger does introduce himself, Quentin's brows arch high, looking unimpressed and not bothering to hide it. ]
Hi.
[ Yeah, that's all Rook gets for now. A annoyed 'hi,' And the fact that Quentin is openly staring at him like he's interrupted a very important meeting when all he'd been doing is reading. ]
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
the common room;;
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
Abigail Hobbs | Hannibal
[ Abigail has only been here a couple of days, and she's been trying her hardest to keep her head down and blend in as much as possible. She's tucked as far into the corner of the common room as she can get, avoiding eye contact with everyone, her nails digging half moons into the back of her hands, occasionally stealing a glance up at the television, the one thing in here that feels vaguely normal to her.
Or at least, it does right up to the point the static starts. She jumps to attention as she hears her name, looking around in worry as she expects the eyes of everyone else in the room to be on her. If anything, she's even more paranoid to find that she's apparently the only one who can hear this. ]
Is there anything I can do for you?
[ She tries to sound as natural and polite as she can, tries to keep her smile tight and the trembling out of her voice as she addresses the person nearest to her, but her gaze flits back to the guard, wondering if she'll really be punished for doing this wrong or if she's just going crazy. ]
Lockdown
[ While she's happy to go along with the herd, Abigail panics a little when she realises that she's being shoved into a random cell rather than taken back to her own - the slightest bit of familiarity would have been a great comfort to her, even if it has to be her own prison bunk.
She quickly realises she isn't alone, and she desperately hopes that she can stay on the good side of whoever she's locked in with. ]
How long does it usually take to resolve this sort of incident?
[ OOC: Abigail's AU is here. Happy to plot or to write a custom starter for your character if preferred. ]
Common Room
He doesn't seem to hear her addressing him, either. At least, not for a moment. Finally, his gaze drags up from the page he's on, and he seems startled to find Abigail looking at him.
He still thinks it's strange that both women and men are in this prison. If that's a thing that's allowed anywhere else in the US, he's not aware of it. Dumbly, he stares for a long moment of silence as he tries to process the question. She's clearly an inmate, too, and even if she wasn't, it's not like the guards give a shit enough to ask do you need anything?. The girl glances away, and Rook thinks she might be nervous. Was someone giving her shit? ]
Uh, yeah. You can sit and keep me company for a while. How about that?
[ His voice has an easy quality to it, and he flashes her a friendly smile that looks out of place in a prison. Then again, her tone had been out of place, too. He answers without really thinking. He's tall, and fit, but definitely not the biggest guy in the place, if she was looking for protection. Maybe he looked approachable. ]
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
Lockdown
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
...
...
...
...
...
...
lockdown;
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
lockdown;;
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
Fran Bow Dagenhart | Fran Bow
ask them what they did, the voice on the television says. Some insidious whisper that sends shivers down her spine, but she feels compelled to listen.
She spots someone sitting by themselves and sits across the table from them, folding her hands together on the table. It's a bit of a nosy question, but she's asked nosier, she supposes. And it does spike her curiosity. "What did you do? To get in here, I mean."
ii. Lockdown
Oh dear, something seems to be happening. She asks a few of the guards what's going on, but no one answers her questions. Instead, they shove her unceremoniously into a cell with another person. Not even her cell, which means she doesn't have her books.
"Perhaps we can be friends," she offers, hopefully, to the other occupant.
iii. The Yard
She almost doesn't notice at first. The bit of rock that sticks into her arm as she brushes past the gates on her way out.
But she freezes, midstep. The bit of rock doesn't... hurt exactly. And it's really very pretty. Surely there must be more?
She drops to her knees where she is and starts digging in the dirt, looking for another shining piece of obsidian, ignoring the bit still in her arm.
Common room
His gaze flicks up from the page briefly, and there's a tilt to the corner of his lips that hints that he might be making a joke. It's the truth, even if he knows that's not what she's actually asking.
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
...
...
...
...
...
ii. Lockdown
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
common room;;
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
common room
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
...
Common Room
randall flagg / the stand
[ 2 - wildcard / in the common room ]
[ ooc ]
no subject
And now what should I do with it?
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
lockdown
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
...
...
...
...
Lock dowwwnnn
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
1.
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
...
...
...
...
...
...
common room;
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
2
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
...
billy hargrove / stranger things
[ 2 - wildcard - in the yard ]
[ ooc ]
no subject
But, he's new, and ignoring people is not how to make friends. Rook wouldn't say he wants friends right now... but maybe he needs them.
It's not like he's doing much else. ]
Yeah man, I gotcha. [ He circles around to the head of the bench, spreading his feet apart a bit and positioning his hands to be ready to grab, if needed. ] Alright.
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
Lockdown
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
lockdown
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
Steve Harrington || Stranger Things
[ Steve is flipping through an old and abused magazine that's making for some interesting narrative with pages clearly missing when the sound of tv static draws his attention. He frowns when it offers nothing for what feels like minutes, just broadcasting the fuzzy, pixelated nonsense when someone begins to speak. It's loud enough to be heard over the white noise, but that's not the startling bit.
Hello there! You must be Steve.
His head whips from the screen to look around for the actual source of the voice, clearly somebody just screwing with him. Assholes. But no, the voice keeps going. I think it's about time you got to know somebody a little bit better. Why don't you give one of your fellow inmates a nice hard slap across the cheek..
Yeah, no goddamn way he was about to do that. All he wants is to keep his head down, do his time (however long that was going to be) and get out. Just blend in and lie low. He's ready to dismiss the voice and unplug the tv because why's he even listening to this?
If you decide to ignore me, or you tell anyone you're not acting of your own free will, the guard beside the magazine stand will send you strait to the SHU for two weeks.. Your choice. Fuckfuckfuckfuck!! Steve looks warily over his shoulder at the guard who looks like he's just waiting for the opportunity to hand Steve his own ass. Caught between a rock and a hard place. He grits his teeth, sucking in a breath to give himself some artificial calm that he doesn't feel and stands up. It feels like he's screwed either way.
Welp, here goes nothing.. He acts before he really has the chance to think about it or chicken out, reaching out to whoever is closest and slapping them across the face as hard as he can manage to make it look convincing. Funny how he feels worse about it, but he stands his ground. ]
ii;; lockdown
[ Prison is already so unpredictable, this may as well happen. Just one more reason to feel out of control, this is fine. What's not fine is the invasion of somebody else's space with a stranger. Steve plops down with an annoyed sigh, running his hands through his hair looking toward the locked cell door. When it rains, it pours. What else will go wrong today? His mom always said things come in threes and this is only one. He really tries not to think about it. He looks up at his fellow inmate, brows raised and face unimpressed. ]
You know, as far as experiences go, I have to give it about a four.
ooc
[ Steve's AU workshop is here! Fresh meat who just wants to keep his head down but always manages to find trouble when he doesn't want it. ]
WILDCARD cellmates
You're on bottom bunk. Don't touch my shit.
[ 'His shit' being the couple magazines he has on his shelf, his extra change of uniform, and that's it. ]
oh goOD
(no subject)
(no subject)
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
i;
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
AM (or Alan in this AU, whatever) | I Have No Mouth and I Must Scream
TV is fine. It's a window to the outside world in a sense, a way to see what other crimes have occurred lately, a way to see the shift of culture. It has been two years since Alan (or AM as many have taken to refer to him as, given his company name and initials) was locked away here, life without the possibility of parole. No wonder; he had tortured and killed so many.
But as often happens, the world moves on. And part of him fears losing touch with that world, which is why he is watching an incredibly trashy talk show. It's mindless entertainment, at least, until it cuts out. AM frowns and looks to his side to see if anyone else is watching and is equally annoyed that The View is no longer there. But nobody seems to notice thus far.
Suddenly, the voice commands him, and he whips his head back to the television to see if the static has changed. At first he ignores it, assuming that it's some form of government subliminal messaging, but then that last part hits him: If you decide to ignore me, or you tell anyone you're not acting of your own free will, the guard beside the magazine stand will send you strait to the SHU for two weeks.. Your choice.
Well. Following the command is better than that, so he stands up.
What are you doing? Are you minding your own business? It doesn't matter. With a hearty grin, AM aims to slap you hard across the face. (It's such a mild thing in comparison to what he wants to do, after all.)
B. Lockdown
Well, that's annoying. Being able to roam the cell block is one of the small semblances of freedom granted in this prison, so to have it stripped away at a moment's notice is nothing less than frustrating.
But he's not alone. No, he has entertainment at the very least. Another person. A toy.
How he reacts depends on who is in here. If you're new, or he doesn't recognize you, though, he offers a toothy grin, a creepy stare that was captured by at least one sketch artist from a witness account before he was caught. "Well, what a pleasant introduction."
C. Yard
Despite being one of the older prisoners here, AM is in exceptionally good shape. Being rich and affording the top trainers certainly helped before he was incarcerated. And even though he's locked up now, he refuses to lose that muscular physique and strength he had worked so hard to build up. (After all, his strength is one of the things that enabled him to subdue so many victims.)
So he tries to use his time in the yard wisely. Anything he can't do inside he will try to do, such as back and forth sprints, chest presses, kettle bell swings, and the like. It is on one of his dashes that the shard brushes against him. He doesn't notice it at first, but his sprinting slows down, enabling him to stop in the middle of the yard.
All of a sudden, he feels vulnerable. Everyone seems to stare at him. Despite his impressive height, he feels so small. His heart starts to pound, and not just from the cardiovascular exercise he had been doing. For a unique moment, there is a hint of fear in his eyes as he starts to back away, hands clutched together over his chest.
He's not in shape. He's old. They can all destroy him. They can do worse than what he did to his own victims...
"Out of here... Gotta get out..." he whispers to himself, backing against the fence.
One of the guards yells at him, telling him to get away from the fence, and a couple of uniformed men with guns start moving toward him.
So what does he do? He screams and collapses to the ground, curling up into a little ball. Anyone who knows AM knows that this is precisely the opposite of what he would usually do.
D. Wildcard
[Anything else you're up for? His AU workshop is here. Basically he's a sadistic torturer and rich businessman and is somewhat of a leader type for Cell Block B. His icons are super outdated and were drawn eight years ago and need a serious update.]
Lockdown;
She shrinks back a little as she sees the way AM is staring, like she's the latest piece of fresh meat, smiling very nervously and keeping her distance as much as she can.
"Yeah, I guess so."
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
C. Yard
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
B.
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
margo hanson // the magicians
Hey. I'm talking to you. [bryancranstonwhome.gif] Yeah, you, dumbass.
[She rises to her feet, takes step forward, and with hot, spitting vitriol announces, ] I -- fucking love Star Trek.
[Look - Margo's not stupid. She knows she can pull her weight in most any fight, but she also knows that a lot of people here are Bad Fucking News and hold particular grudges against her and her partner. Honestly, it's a sign of success. You don't get to the top of the drug trade without making a few bloodthirsty enemies. If you can still go out for brunch without watching your back, you're not working hard enough.
All that to say that, of course, she decides not to risk provoking any violence from whomever she's been locked in this cell with.]
Touch me, and I'll pull your tongue out through your asshole.
[She hasn't even looked at them, quite yet; for the moment she seems to be busy fiddling with her eyepatch, and... pulling something out from behind it? Was she hiding a cigarette in her empty eye socket?
Desperate times, et cetera.]
[AU information is here.]
A
Oh. She just... angrily.. loves star trek??]
Okay.
[ Pause, then hesitantly: ]
I- I hear it's good.
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
...
lockdown;
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
common room;;
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
Lockdown
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
...
a;
The Countess | AHS: Hotel
[ The Countess, luckily, isn't shoved in a cell -- she's already in hers, reading an extremely old copy of People as she waits for her hair to set in curls around the Diet Coke cans she's using as rollers. She doesn't have a cellmate at the moment, so it's a surprise to see another inmate get unceremoniously shoved in before the door slams shut.
A new cellie would have a pillow and a change of uniform, so this must be temporary. She leans back and flicks the page in her magazine. ]
You might as well have a seat. We're liable to be in here for a while.
iii. the yard
[ She usually stays out of the sun. Given the choice, she'd go out at night, but since that's not a choice, the Countess usually just eschews yard time and walks a few laps around the common room. But today, today she'd really wanted to stretch her legs. And she'd accidentally brushed against some weeds, where something stuck her in the ankle. She assumed it was a thorn, but before she could bend to pluck it out, she locked eyes with you.
She couldn't remember the last time she felt so furious. Rage floods through her white-hot, and she comes sailing at you with an amount of force that's frankly startling for someone of her size.
Careful, she bites. ]
[ AU info here! Very undecided on a block, so feel free to handwave that. ]
lockdown;;
Michael takes the closest seat, crossing his legs, one arm resting on the table. He looks to his temporary cellmate who seems entirely too cool about the matter. She's obviously been here long enough to know better. Still, he clicks his tongue in distaste for the situation. ]
Does this happen often?
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
lockdown
(no subject)
(no subject)
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
lockdown
(no subject)
(no subject)
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
Jay Byrne | Exquisite Corpse
It's an easy enough request. Jay has felt a bit... afloat without Andrew around, anyway. So offering his services, finding someone new to work with, to follow. Well, that would be ideal. He might as well start making himself a reputation anyway, with so many newcomers lately. He can be the helpful one.
So he settles in next to the first person he sees, his expression amiable. "Please let me know if I can do anything for you. Anything at all."
ii. lockdown
Lockdowns are always so dull, but at least it's a way to meet new people. Get to know the various inmates a little better.
He sits, crosslegged, on the bottom bunk and watches his temporary cellmate with acute curiosity. "Hello. I don't think I've met you before."
lockdown;;
He pulls away with a sigh, leaning against the wall with his arms crossed. "Probably haven't, I'm new. Hey, I'm Steve."
(no subject)
(no subject)
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
common room;
(no subject)
(no subject)
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
Sebastian Moran | The Hound of the D'Urbervilles
[ Moran firmly believes that television rots the brain. It’s all terrible stuff, more insufferable than the opera, and the excuse for criminals on crime dramas is laughable. They’re all messy, sloppy, and even the utterly useless Scotland Yard could pin them down before they could finish committing their first crime.
What can he say? He’s an old soul. The common room has been his place for card games for some time now, and he prefers it with a broken television set. Though trying to teach others to play whist has been like pulling teeth. It’s no fun to cheat when no one understands the rules to begin with, and it’s even less fun cheating when the only things worth gambling for are poor quality cigarettes and protein bars. He feels like a tiger in a cage. Someone ought to have set the ones in Regent’s Park free years ago.
He’s shuffling the cards, the television serving as little more than a mindless backdrop, when he hears his name. He raises an eyebrow and glances around—strange voices have an odd effect on him. He finds himself automatically straining his ear in an attempt to hear his ex-employer’s thin, reedy tone within it. It isn’t there, but he would love to delude himself into believing it was. At least then, he would have someone to focus his rage on. But he doesn’t need an excuse. The voice (decidedly not his ex-employer’s) suggests the he slaps someone across the face. And for why?
For why not?, Moran asks himself, pocketing his deck of cards. He strides over to the nearest inmate. ]
Come now then, chummy. Eyes front.
[ He smiles, pleasant and gentlemanly as ever, gives a little salute to the guard near the magazine rack, and slugs his fellow inmate right across the face. ]
2. Lockdown
What, then? Have the sheep been let loose? And I thought Wales was sheepshagger country. I hear that’s rather illegal, my good man. You wouldn’t want to end up in my position, would you? Life in prison, eh? It's none too extravagant.
[ Moran gets what little rise he can out of the guards before he’s shoved into the nearest cell—not his own. It’s happened before, and it’s not worth whining about. He tends to just roll with it and rummage through everyone else’s belongings. He makes himself comfortable on the lower bunk, and takes his time rummaging through the resident’s belongings before actually paying any real mind to the inmate he’s stuck here with. ]
I don’t suppose you know how to play whist.
3. Wildcard
[ for all your wildcard needs. Surprise me or grab me at
{OOC| Moran’s workshop comment is here, but I’m working on the details. He’s been here about a year, so everything is old hat, he's seen it.}
lockdown.
Yeah, okay, we're not doing this.
[Margo turns around and knocks - well, more like pounds - on the cell door, surprisingly loud for her small stature.]
Guards? Guards! [Unsurprisingly, no one answers.] I'm stuck in here with Shakespeare and he's a sheepfucker!
(no subject)
(no subject)
...
...
lockdown
(no subject)
(no subject)
...
2
(no subject)
(no subject)
...
...
Harley Quinn ◇ DCEU
lockdown
the yard
common room.
I axed a bitch for stealing my lunch.
[There isn't much anger behind it, though. If anything, she almost seems... interested. The second least boring person in the room (after herself, of course) just plopped down at her table, and she's tempted to pay attention. She doesn't even try to take the bag of chips back.]
Tried to say it was justified, but the judge was a real cunt.
(no subject)
(no subject)
...
...
...
...
lockdown
(no subject)
common room
(no subject)
(no subject)
...
lockdown
Sorry, I am keen for this cr, I've just been in a weird headspace
no worries, happens to all of us
common room~
Leonard Snart ❆ DC's The Flash
Lockdown:
Wildcard?
[OOC: Here's his brief AU history. No Flash so no hero ark. No Mick so no mass murder sprees. Feel free to hit me with your own prompt if you don't like mine! And forgive me if I'm a little slow to reply.]
lockdown
You can call me Poison Ivy. I don't belong anywhere in this shithole.
(no subject)
(no subject)
...
...
...
common room
(no subject)
(no subject)
...
...
...
...
Common room
(no subject)
(no subject)
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
Squalo // KHR! // ota!
-- common room.
[ He might have felt something similar before. Something on a screen at the very corner of his eye that shouldn't be there, static in the phone, a suspiciously quiet street... nothing quite this detailed, however. He'd only been half-glancing at the TV but the voice speaking seemingly to him has his eyes locked on the screen. ]
[ It dares him to slap someone. ]
[ He sits still for a moment, then his shoulders shake for a moment in a short, sharp laugh, almost like a manic giggle. Did it really think it could win a game of chicken against him? ]
[ He'll just march up to a random anyone -- not one of the big shots, though, he's not suicidal, and probably not a woman -- and slap them across the face, hard, before shrugging with a vague grin. ]
Sorry, [ he doesn't sound sorry at all, ] mistook you for a bitch.
-- lockdown.
Hey, what the hell!
[ He slams his hand against the bars, to no effect of course, then leans against them to try and get a look as far down the hallway as possible. He's not particularly concerned, though it's funny to think they might have found something like a weapon... ]
[ He glances back at his new (temporary) cellmate. ]
Any ideas?
[ And just like that, he pushes off the bars and goes to rummage through the rightful owner's stuff. If he finds any shampoo, he's just casually shoving it into his shirt. Look, he needs a lot of it. ]
-- the yard.
[ He's mostly keeping to himself today. He's not worried about it -- maybe he should be, but so far nobody was dumb enough to bother him. He's chilling against a sunlit wall when -- ouch, what the fuck -- he thinks he'd gotten some kind of a splinter. This sucks. He growls quietly and feels around for it, and right then he's catching the look of someone else -- ]
[ -- and looking away. How very unusual of him, Mr Fight Me And Loudly. ]
Common Room (Talk about starting off on the wrong foot...)
Now, Leonard was a cool-headed kinda dude, but don't mistake no retaliation for cowardice. Icy blue eyes were sharp, his posture rigid and still, glancing at his assailant without even fully facing him. Venom laced his calm voice.]
Touch me again and you'll wish you'd stayed in your cell. [It was subtle, but Leonard's weight shifted to evenly distribute on both feet, ready for a full on fight. Other than that, he was absolutely still.] Or, you could try a more heart-felt apology. I'm a reasonable guy.
o o p s
Oh dear.
...
...
...
...
...
Pamela Isley/Poison Ivy | Harley Quinn Animated Series
Common Room
No. No no no. She didn't even want to watch TV. She just wanted to sulk and feel resentful of the world. But the threat of SHU....
She was in there for just two days just after she arrived. It was the worst feeling in her life. She doesn't think she could survive two weeks away from the sun. Maybe she could have before... whatever it was that happened to her, but not anymore.
So she grits her teeth into something that's almost a smile and walks robotically up to the nearest person. "Can I. Do something. For you."
That's the closest to nice she can manage.
Lockdown
Ivy isn't the most social of inmates. She kind of hates everyone. Too bad for the person locked up with her. She seats herself at the table and shoots an annoyed look at her temporary cellmate.
"So we're clear, I'm not interested in this becoming some bonding experience."
Yard
There's no sliver of rock in Ivy's skin, though you could be forgiven for thinking it from the way she's digging. But she doesn't care about rocks. She cares about the sprout she found struggling to grow in the middle of the yard, where careless assholes would trample it like it wasn't a living being.
This corner is out of the way, but still positioned well enough to get good sunshine. She's got the plant with her in a cup secreted from the kitchen, and she's... talking to it.
"You'll be safe here. No one's going to hurt you. I'll keep you safe, and--" she breaks off, noticing someone is watching. She shoots a glare. "Do you want something?"
Yard
Harley, in fact, just wants to talk to the pretty girl trying out the gardening hobby, so she doesn't bother answering that question. "I had a house plant once." Mister J threw it at her head during a fight. It hadn't been pretty. Despite the grace and flexibility she's shown in the yard in the past, she drops down with a thump next to Ivy.
"I'm Harley Quinn!" One of the few people in the prison that sees someone gardening and doesn't want to destroy their garden. She knows what hobbies can do for people who are struggling, especially ones struggling to adjust to new environments.
(no subject)
Lockdown
(no subject)
(no subject)
Felix || Red vs. Blue
[ It might not be his favorite way to kill the time, but Felix is no stranger to idling away a couple hours watching trash TV, and the normalcy of it is at least a little refreshing. He's not entirely focused even after he settles in, looking around every so often and scanning the room for anything of better interest.
That is, until the screen goes to static and someone starts talking directly to him, telling him to share something he'd rather not say. Felix hears the strange voice out and glances around again, a little more cautiously.
Anyone else around him seem to hear that? No? Just him? Huh. Sure, that's normal.
The guard is staring him down, though. Felix isn't freaked out by this turn of events, exactly, but he's been acting with relative caution in his stay thus far and might as well hear out the strange television voice that no one else is reacting to. He peels himself from the his spot and strolls over to someone sitting alone, mulling over what might be safe to share with a stranger. He's not usually one for sharing honest personal details at all, so at least theres a lot to pick from. ]
One time, as a kid — [ He starts talking before he's sat down across from the new person, slouching comfortably and gesturing a little with his hands as he talks. ] I went into an old folks home to visit some senile grandparent of mine, and I swear this place keeps reminding me of it. Y'know what I'm talking about?
— lockdown
[ Felix lets himself be herded along with the rest of them, stepping into whatever cell he's told to. Even though he's pissed about sudden lockdown interrupting his otherwise decent day, he's prepared to take it in stride and play it off like everything's fine. Swiping a random book off a shelf casually enough that it might be mistaken as his own property, Felix doesn't look back as the door slams shut behind him, though he's aware by the sound of footsteps that another person had been put in there with him. ]
Dibs on top bunk.
[ Hops on up there, confident in having secured the bunk because even hardened criminals should be able to respect the international dibs protocol. ]
— the yard
[ Felix has set himself to the outskirts of things, not quite at the fence but far enough back to get a good view of the yard as a whole. He's not found a group or anything to stick to, but he's comfortable going about here alone, certain that if any trouble breaks out he can defend himself just fine.
He sits himself down onto some patchy grass, leaning back with his palms behind him in order to catch a little sun on his face, when — ow, something sharp in the dirt suddenly stabs into him like a bee-sting.
Pulling his hand back to investigate it, he sees a spot of red welling up, and to see it leaves him feeling unexpectedly panicked. He's taken far worse injuries before without missing a beat, but Felix nevertheless hides his hand under his shirt, feeling as if there are sharks around him that will quickly sense his blood in the water. It's been some time since he's really missed his partner, but his absence is acutely felt as Felix comes to the realization that there's no one actively watching his six. He jerks back onto his feet, stumbling backwards in an attempt to put further distance between himself and everyone in his sight.
Of course, it might have benefited him to check behind him first to make sure there wasn't anyone he was going to knock straight into, so when he does, the only thing keeping him from shouting from the surprise of it is the thought that he doesn't want to attract further attention. ]
Oh, fuck. Fuck, fuckity, fuck.
( ooc || and here's felix's au workshop for the convenience of anyone who wants it. )
no subject
You are free to take it.
[ Leonard is getting up there in age, and wouldn't really appreciate needing to climb to get into bed. He continues writing in his chicken-scratch handwriting, which, if Felix is paying attention, has obviously already filled 3 pages. ]
(no subject)
(no subject)
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
common room;;
(no subject)
(no subject)
ardbert | final fantasy xiv
yard
wildcard
[[ come at me with a starter of your own! feel free to shoot me a pm or a comment at ardbert's au workshop thread if you want to want to run something by me first ]]
Danny Rand // Marvel’s Netflix (Iron Fist)
[i. COMMON ROOM]
[ Danny never cares what’s on tv. He hadn’t had cable in so long that even the Friends reruns are interesting to him still, and even if it’s the third time this week he’s hears Ross yell “Pivot!”, he still laughs.
Except his laughter dies out a bit as the tv turns to static. Danny glances around it’s less to see if anyone else noticed that, and more to find someone sitting on their own that he’s never really spoken to. He finds someone and moves, sitting himself across the table. ]
Hey, so, what are you in for?
[ii. THE YARD]
[ It’s a common sight to see Danny in the yard. He prefers it outside, even if they’re still walled in, and he has a preferred patch of the yard he always goes to. It’s the one place outside where he feels pretty ok about slipping off his shoes, and usually he does nothing more than sit there with his legs crossed and his eyes closed.
Today, though, despite his inspection of the dirt, he manages to cut his foot on something virtually unseen. Once he plucks the shard out of his skin, he looks at it, and feels overcome with something besides his usual calm. It’s a frenzy, almost, and it tells him to dig. So he digs, even though the earth is dry and brittle, looking for more of the rock. ]
[iii. LIBRARY]
[ Reasonably, Danny knows he can’t do anything to help his case. He has a top legal team on his side and he trusts them, but he only just understands half of what they talk about during their visits. Luckily, the library has a small but comprehensive legal section, and Danny likes to take advantage of it.
He has his notepad and pencil and he takes diligent notes, usually referring to the dictionary he has beside him as well. Danny can be the first one to admit that he missed out a lot when it came to formal education, but what he likes in reading comprehension, he makes up for in enthusiasm. Fortunately he’s a quick learner, but that doesn’t make understanding legal jargon any easier.
He sighs and sits back, rubbing his eyes. Maybe it’s time to put away the studying and read Jurassic Park or something. ]
((ooc: AU post can be found here.))
ii.
But then, in the space of a blink and a tossed glance over at her business partners, Barefoot in the Park is suddenly on his hands and knees, and not even in a fun way. Margo frowns, attention grabbed even further.]
What, are you gonna tunnel us out of here?
[It sounds derisive, because it's Margo. Even if she's actually interested in the answer, he's not allowed to know that.]
(no subject)
(no subject)
...
...
...
i
Dinah Lance - DCEU
[Dinah doesn't care about television. She's not one for books or magazines really, or newspapers. Especially not now. She'd been the subject of quite a few headlines recently as her case went to trial, and for now, she was just done. Done with it all. She had sat on one of the chairs, back curled forward so that she could rest her elbows on her knees when the television caught her attention. It said her name. At first, she dismissed it as a news article about the case, but - is it talking to her?
Ask someone what they did.
Isn't that the first rule of prison? Don't ask, don't tell? But SHU sounds awful from what she's heard.
Dinah hesitates still, but as the closest guard begins to move towards her, she hurriedly gets up and goes to the nearest person. There's no build up, no introduction. Instead, she clears her throat to get their attention and just comes out with it.]
What did you do to land yourself in this shithole?
2. Lockdown
[Dinah finds herself being pushed into a cell. She hadn't been particularly resistant to the lockdown; she had sighed and muttered a string of profanities under her breath, but she had got up to move when she was told to.
She heads straight for the bottom bunk, pushing past her new cellmate to claim it. It's only then when she's sat that she even bothers to look properly at who is in there with her. She glances quickly before averting her eyes.]
Hey, I'm not looking for any trouble, got it?
3. The Yard
Dinah doesn't care about the yard. She doesn't really care about common rooms or her cell or anything else. At least the air isn't stale out here though.
She sits back from the throngs, alone and towards the edge of the grounds. Nothing is ever comfortable here: she moves her legs to cross them, and feels herself pricked by - by something. Not that it matters really.
She sits back, idly observing the yard, until someone walks close by to her. Too close by. Before Dinah even realises what she's doing, she's on her feet, approaching them. There's aggression in her stance: the meekness and hesitation that usually cloud Dinah's expression are gone and she looks furious. She calls to the other person,]
Oy! Have you got a problem with me?
Wildcard
I'm up for anything, so if you'd rather a different prompt, I'm fine with that. Dinah's on the AU workshop here: https://obsidianooc.dreamwidth.org/841.html
Lockdown cw: forced sedative and blood. If this doesn't work I can change it
When she'd been grabbed from behind by a guard, she'd thrown a complete shit show, trying to fight back in a vain attempt that got her punched in the face so hard White Christmas started playing in her head and she couldn't not sing along. This, and the continued struggle earned her a sharp needleful of something that made her tongue simultaneously feel like cotton and lead.
The guard didn't care that she smacked her head on the cell door when she'd stumbled over her feel laughing.
The point is, she looked more of a hot mess than usual, and her hair looked like someone had brushed it all forward and given her a million noogies. It's not surprising Dinah didn't recognise the car thief.
It's only when Dinah speaks that Harley even shows any sign that she knew the other woman was there too. Her head turns, lulls to the side a bit, and a grin breaks open her face.
She doesn't care that there's blood matting her hair or a cut right by her eye is gushing blood. ]
Hey, I know you. [ Her words are just as slurred as they had been the night they met, but she doesn't stink of alcohol. ]
Nah, it's perfect. So very Harley
<3
...
...
...
Nathan Young | Misfits
[Generally speaking, Nathan doesn't need prompting to cause trouble for himself and others. But then, of course, Nathan's not usually shit-stirring around a bunch of murderous criminals. For once, he's actually minding his own business well enough, taking a turn with the television, when the voice sounds in his head. He looks around, looks at the others, looks at the guard, and finally...chooses himself a victim. One he hopes seems sane enough to not stick him with a shiv.
Hunkering down uncomfortably close to another inmate, Nathan crosses his legs and props his chin up against his palms.]
One time I fucked an eighty-two-year-old woman.
[Or, maybe he asks:]
So, what'd you do?
[Pick your uncomfortable and equally annoying poison.]
lockdown
Pricks!
[Nathan grumbles as the door to the unknown cell is locked behind him and the other inmate he's been shoved in with, uselessly kicking at it with the flat of his foot just because he can. Once the guards have left them alone, though, he's all cheery, smiling from ear-to-ear.]
I think this calls for a bit of vandalism.
[Immediately, he swivels around to see if he can earn himself any contraband.]
the yard
[So, here's a gangly shithead, ambling idly along in the yard, being an excellent fucking example of an inmate (looking for somewhere to piss, probably), when he feels something stab through the bottom of his shoe.]
Shit!
[Did he step on a nail or something? Nathan stumbles, hopping on one foot, but doesn't have any real opportunity to look into it before his gaze falls on someone else. It's strange, the way that his head fills with blind fury. Generally speaking, while he gets frustrated easily enough, even angry, he's not the sort to run into violent confrontations. In part because, well, look at him. He's shit in a fight. Much more of a egg-em-on-and-run sort of guy.
Before he's really thought through what he's doing, he's picking up a small stone and hurling it full force at the unexpected source of his rage. That'll show 'em! Immediately, his hands are in his pockets and he swivels around in a different direction, acting like he had nothing to do with it. Just an innocent bystander!]
wildcard
[Want to do something else? I'm totally open! My workshop comment is right over here!]
common room
She slowly lowers the old copy of National Geographic she's been paging through, and looks at him with a patient smile, almost playful. ]
I'll show you mine after you show me yours, Cheekbones.
(no subject)
(no subject)
...
...
lockdown;
(no subject)
(no subject)
Common room
common room 1, omg that's fab
Prompt 1: Common room, option 3
[Aiden is distractedly going through the pages of a biology book, he was focusing on it a few minutes ago, but he’s been hearing a strange whisper coming from the TV for some time now. Finally the whisper gets clearer and voices a request. He closes the book, and mindlessly hands it to the inmate next to him without really looking at them to see who they are.]
I have finished my reading. Would you like me to give you this book before I put it back? Or…To assist you, in any way? Let me know.
no subject
Looking to recapture old times? Or is this about something else?
(no subject)
(no subject)
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
Marcus Pierce | Lucifer
Common Room: 5
About time someone replaced that old thing in common room. Isolated as they were in this ass crack prison of nowhere, not even having a TV to catch up on the world news was cruel and unusual. It had been several months now -replacing a broken tube was hardly prison priority- and Marcus had thought they gave up on giving them a replacement when he walked into the common room one day to find they got a new one. Plasma 32", not bad.
But then in the middle of the news about the upcoming presidential election, it went static and the screen blacked out. "The hell?" Marcus looked to his left and right, those who were watching TV were still watching it aptly.
"Hello there! You must be the Sinnerman, Lieutenant Marcus Pierce. I think it's about time you got to know somebody a little bit better. Why don't you go up to someone you don't know, and ask them what they did. If you decide to ignore me..."
Marcus stopped listening and glanced around again. Those who were watching TV were still watching TV, and when he glanced, the static was gone. They were back to who was running what presidential campaign and when the great debate was going to happen.
"Come on, no one saw that?" When he just got a weird look from the inmate next to him, he furrowed his brows. He had heard of some really strange things happening here, but that near took the cake. "Well fuck," he muttered, wondering if he should listen or not. Well, it was no big deal, he should get to know the new ones anyway.
He turned towards the inmate seated closest to him. He didn't recognize the face, were they from the new batch? He couldn't be sure. "Hey you," he said, catching their attention, "What're you in here for?"
Lockdown
That didn't happen too often. They were just taken to the nearest random cell block, nearest random cell, and locked in.
As soon as the electronic barred doors locked behind him, Marcus moved over to the shelves, flipping contents, checking to see what he could find. It was methodical, a practiced property search: glance, categorize, dismiss and put things exactly as it was. Not that it really mattered anyway, the cell they were stuck in was a mess, the contents disheveled untidy, he knew it wasn't likely he would find anything of value on the shelves anyway. There was nothing of value that wasn't hidden in this place. Unless if he was in a newbie's cell, there was the chance of that.
He thought about checking the beds and mattresses too for the real contraband, and might've, if he didn't turn and found the other inmate stuck in here looking at him. So he took a seat on the bottom bunk instead and gave them a slightly raised eyebrow as if asking, What?
The Yard: 1
It was hot, too hot to do much more today than simply sit in the shade. Some who weren't afraid of catching a stroke still played their afternoon ball, but no one but a lone runner was circling the track. The inside was even worse, with only fans to push hot air around and the whole building felt like a big concrete oven.
So Marcus took the top row of one of the two sets of those pull out bleachers at the back, where the building still managed to steal a sliver of shadow from the afternoon sun and the slightest breeze still blew by every few minutes. It wasn't perfect, but at least he didn't feel like slow roast.
He scratched at his arm, wondering if he was bitten by a bug sometime over the last night or so. It seemed to be a little red there and swelling a bit. Or maybe it was something he brushed up against causing an allergic reaction. He scratched at it again and glanced back out over the field, blue eyes catching a few people's but none holding his interest.
Running guy is going to the infirmary at this rate. I'll give them another ten minutes tops.
OOC:
(( Hello! AU Workshop link here. I'm really trying to find the character's AU voice since it's vastly different in both setting and power nerf, so anyone who wants to help test drive against this former cop / criminal mastermind would be a great help! Also hoping to say he's been here a while, so if anyone wants to set up some linking CR would be super love too!
I'm considering he'd have a group of some sort inside as well. Given I'm joining late to the game after everyone's already started, so I'm not sure if there's any leader-y positions or CRs still available without retroing things, but I was thinking (if mods allow) to say he was in SHU for a bit (maybe because of what happened in Common Room above?) hence that's why he's been missing from interactions the last while, if that will be easier to explain his absence. Anyone interested? Willing to CR? Want cookies? :D ))
common room
"Have you never been told that asking about someone's past is rude?"
Rude when it's done blatantly, like this had been done, at the very least. He crosses his arms, shifting slightly in his seat. It's not as though there is much else to talk about in this place; yet for now, the Director feels obliged to conceal his origin story, as one might call it.
Re: common room
(no subject)
...
...