TDM 005

[etrayamods]

⏵ arrival ⏴ Arrival goes as anticipated. Characters awaken in a sterile hospital bed in a clean, white room to the hum of machines under the unnatural lighting common to well-kept institutions. Every bit was designed to be comforting and calming, even with the jarring undercurrent of this situation. The first face they see is Aurora's: her smile appears to be warm, but it doesn't quite reach her eyes. She might offer a quick explanation, or leave characters to figure it out for themselves depending on their approach. The door to the room swings open, revealing a hallway that stretches out ahead of them. There’s noise from outside and strong pumpkin spice scents coming from the lobby. Ah, muffins and tea. Grab one and head into the crisp, sunny fall morning ahead. ⏵ potluck ⏴ Cutthroat Iron Etrayan Bake-Off As you step out of the arrival holding area into the main thoroughfare, the entire street has been turned into tents and chef stations to accommodate the activities of thirty people at once. There’s seats, trailers, and robots bustling about to make sure everyone is ready. A couple of cheerful robots in aprons and colorful sweaters approach and redirect you as you step towards the cooking area. There’s gas ranges, ovens, grills, blast chillers, mixers, and set walk-ins and pantries with just about every ingredient you can imagine. There are cameramen (also robots) patrolling the area to capture all your best moments and to broadcast them directly to your fellow citizens’ devices. Your instruction? “Make your signature dish. You have one hour, chef.” It can’t just be straightforward, can it? The land itself is held together with pure chaotic energy. If you’re lucky, all goes as planned. If you aren’t… well… Roll a Die 1 Your leg is now tied to another chef’s 2 Your meal is continually un-cooking itself. 3 All of your ingredients are pickled now 4 The longer you touch an ingredient, the bigger it gets. 5 Every time you lift your pot lid, a component changes. 6 The aromatics are glowing and flashing like LED lights. 7 Your knife has been replaced with a cheese grater. 8 The ingredients are now magnetically stuck together. 9 Your meal is becoming deep fried. 10 Kittens are multiplying out of the cupboard. * 11 All of your ingredients have become incredibly heavy. 12 Your cook pot moves burners whenever you turn around. 13 Eggs scream when you crack them 14 The kitchen has become incredibly slippery. 15 It’s soup now. 16 All utensils have been replaced with crustaceans. ** 17 Your knife has a mind of its own. Watch out! 18 Your fridge catches fire. 19 Your pasta is trying to escape. Go get it. 20 Any ingredient not in the pot starts to float away. * All kittens disappear at the end. ** These however, stay. ⏵ share a meal ⏴ As all the cooking concludes, you will be invited to plate your meal into one of many casserole dishes, regardless of what was made. A ladle will be tucked into the corner and placed on the table with a folded bit of cardstock declaring the chef’s name and the name of the dish. A helper camerabot will come around to each participant and ask for their thinking and their process. Even if you got away without having to cook, even looking towards the table of dishes will spur a helper bot to start making you a plate with one of everything. The helperbot will insist that it is rude to not at least try what their peers have made. In fact, if you are to fill out the score card for each person, you really must taste everything! The robots can’t try the food, so it’s up to you. The cards look like so. The grading system is opaque. Is it meant to be numbers? Stars? Letter grades? Well, you’re the judge. You figure it out. Chef: ___________ Dish:_____________ Judge:___________ Overall Rating:_______ Flavor Presentation Stackability Wet Originality Rizz ⏵ tummy ache survivor ⏴ No matter how well your compatriots cooked or baked their dishes, there are… factors. You see that carrot? It’s really just condensed chaos in the shape of a carrot. No matter how powerful you are, these particular ingredients may not mesh with your being. …And even if it is truly a carrot, do all the chefs know the proper cooking temperature of chicken? Even chickens are aliens to many. (Optional) Roll a Die 1 Tummy Ache. Go lay in bed. Complaining alleviates symptoms. 2 That plate of food has energized you. You feel compelled to race or spar. 3 The food has reminded you of home. You must tell someone a detail of your childhood. 4 That food was so horrible that it simply must be washed out somehow. Spicy peppers? Booze? Gravel??? You’re going to over do it. 5 You have now discovered your new favorite dish. Make them teach it to you or you’ll lose sleep over it. This is all you want to eat for the next week. 6 The oddity of the ingredients has transferred to you. You start floating away. 7 The range of food and textures have inspired you. Acquire an annoying new hobby or habit. 8 You are now haunted by the digital souls of chickens. ⏵ NOTES ⏴ Please direct all questions to our mod queries comment! ⏵FULL NAVIGATION⏴

Comments

mod queries.

[etrayamods]

Re: mod queries.

[cybertron_gravitron]

Any chance of them offering (somehow pumpkin spice flavored) energon for this guy in the lobby?

Will Graham | Hannibal (NBC) | Action or Prose I will match

[this_ismydesign]

[OOC: Given the triggering nature of Hannibal canon, I have a Permission Post that include a link to a screened Opt In/Opt Out. My default with Will is to stay away from his profiling info-modding skills, unless asked for by the other player. I also stay away from direct mention of any cannibal activities or murder stuff in general. Will does reserve the right to make bad puns/innuendos but nothing graphic, unless agreed upon by the other player

Finally, Will will not be outing Hannibal. He is from the cliff dive at the end of S3, so his morals are pretty grey at this point.]

I. Arrival:

This was not what he'd envisioned as he'd embraced Hannibal and taken them both over the edge of the cliff.

Regardless of being incredibly mildly disappointed in this fact, Will remained polite to Aurora as she explained his new situation. Even as she faded from view, Will couldn't completely convince himself that his interaction with her, not to mention his new surroundings, weren't the product of his own mind having finally gone completely feral. However, it seemed as if he was going to have to at least pretend this was his new reality; at least until it was proven otherwise.

First things first, he seriously needed to get cleaned up and attempt to find clean clothes. At clean shirt, at the very least. His wounds appeared to be healed, which was a bonus (and a nod towards this being a product of his imagination) but his clothing was ruined. The pants were dark enough that the blood was mostly camouflaged, but this shirt?

Yeah, that was a total loss.

So his other arrivals, or really anyone in the area, might find themselves coming across a small man, in a tattered blood soaked button down shirt, rummaging in various cupboards, looking for a set of hospital scrubs ... or at least a hospital gown.

II. Pot Luck:

Will did his absolutely damndest to avoid the happy robots, let alone the camerabots milling about. Alas, just when it appeared that he might escape, he was cornered and set in front of a stove.

He was not a cook. Unless you counted roasting a freshly caught fish over a campfire. He stared, looking markedly apathetic, at the wide range of beautiful ingredients. At some point, he gave a little huff of amusement at an inner thought. Hannibal would have a field day with the ingredients and the equipment. Don't worry, he kept that thought to himself.

Eventually, he decided to try to prepare a VEGETARIAN spaghetti. The sauce came together fairly easily, and while it simmered down, he began to cook the pasta.

Only. The pasta kept slipping out of his hands and running away from him? The first escapee noodle, Will just watched with a mix of bewilderment and resignation on his face. When the next group of noodles began to flee, Will sighed deeply and reached up to rub his thumb and index finger over his eyes.

"Very well," he muttered. He was speaking to himself, but they were so close together, other chefs might hear him. "Not the first time I've had to chase down my food."

Looking around, he grabbed a sheet of cheese cloth and began to shake it out. Looked like a good net to him. Time to wrangle some noodles!

III. Share a Meal:

All the cajoling, right up to the more direct attempts at manipulation by the 'bots, couldn't make Will try food from unknown personages.

"It is rude, not to at least sample some of these beautiful dishes" The helperbot insisted, for what felt like the 5th time.

Exhaling a deep breath, briefly looking as if he might be about to cave to the 'bots wheedling, Will pursed his lips, then his expression went flat.

"No."

And this time, he simply turned away from the 'bot, as it launched into another pitch, and headed ... well, truthfully he had no idea where he was headed, but it was definitely away from here.

IV - Wildcard: [OOC: Have an idea for a different prompt/scenario? Throw it at me! Sounds like fun!]

iii

[relished]

[the display of tents and pseudo-chefs is humorous after his dinner and Sam's very obvious network post meant to cast a heavy shadow in Hannibal's direction. it spread his intentions as an infection, but he hasn't received a punishment. Echo isn't involved, and Aurora is either too concerned with the current mission or turning a blind eye. possibly both. what Sam failed to do was include a photo, Hannibal's lack of presence on the network left most in the dark.

he's able to wander as he pleases, thanks to that. no one knows what Hannibal looks like aside from those who came to his dinner, and the planet is large enough that he goes unnoticed. not that he particularly cares, after his abrupt return home and then return to Etraya, as quick as a blink of his eye.

he doesn't expect to see the familiar outline of the man he'd just been with. the brown curls, his set expression as he turns the bot down. six months and a blip back to this planet would normally feel like nothing, but to Hannibal it's been too long. he watches first, seconds ticking away. he could be a hallucination, a trick. he's right there, just out of reach and just out of ear shot.

he moves intentionally. no caution or hesitancy, and he's slipping through people and stopping a few feet behind him. he won't chase, not now.]

Will.

[his name breaks into the air and is reminiscent of the teacup. he wants to measure his reaction, to see when, exactly, Will is from.]

ivan niklaus 💀 original

[reapoman]

( the basics: Ivan was once a wizard who turned to Necromancy to find a way to save his dying wife. In the process, he committed crimes against the natural order that were so egregious that Death itself conscripted him into its service as a grim reaper. full info here! )

I. 💀 POT-UN-LUCKY

[ When the helper bots first approach Ivan, he does that thing where he looks behind him to see who they’re talking to, only to realize they’re talking to him. He’s pretty baffled by that, since he’s used to blending in or being downright invisible in a lot of situations, but that doesn’t change the fact that he’s been Perceived. And he definitely drops his muffin when he’s ushered away to his cooking station.

Thanks, he hates it.

Well, it seems he has no choice but to participate, and he’s fully ready to do something quick and easy to get it over with but… his ingredients are stuck together? Vegetables are snapping onto the sides of pots like they’re both made of magnetized metal, and Ivan is doing his damnedest to pull them apart but it’s getting worse – he’s starting to collect things from neighboring stations, too. Someone else’s – perhaps even your – utensils or ingredients start flying over to join the katamari-style ball of cooking miscellany Ivan seems to be gathering. ]

Sorry. I just… I have literally no idea what’s going on.

[ Help him. ]

II. 💀 A LIGHT MEAL

[ It’s not like he’s going to turn down a free meal here, okay? Grim reapers don’t strictly need to eat, but it’s something Ivan likes to do still. It helps him feel a bit more human, keeps him grounded.

You know, usually.

He has no clue what it is that he ate to put him in such a state, but he’s started drifting into the air like a balloon. While he’s got a lot of tricks up his very mundane-looking sleeves, flying is sure not one of them, and it makes a bit of panic rise in the back of his throat when he starts floating. Catch him grabbing onto anything for purchase – a table (or he could just whiff it and grab the tablecloth instead), one of the tents, a light post, you.

The look he gives anyone who manages to catch his eye is caught somewhere between “why me” “this might as well happen” and “help.” ]

I don’t know how to get down.

[ Yeah, no kidding. While he’s got a hold of something, his feet are still trying to float upward, nearly turning him fully upside-down. His hair falls free and the tie of his suit sort of flaps there uselessly. ]

I’m open to ideas.

III. 💀 WILDCARD

[ Happy to do another prompt or reroll effects for different threads! Hit me with whatever, basically. If you want to chat beforehand, you can drop me a PM! ]

hello!

[twin_blade]

[ Food is a risky business in this world. Vax has managed to avoid problems with it so far just by being paranoid as hell, but he doesn't blame anyone who eventually gives in and eats something suspect.

When he sees a man holding on to a lamp while his body tries to float away without his permission, the Champion of Ravens has to stop and look up. Ideas? ]

Have you tried tying weights to your legs?

Hank Anderson | Detroit: Become Human

[bootyshortsforoldmen]

Arrival

Hank despises hospitals. The uniformity, the sterileness — it all makes him shudder.

At first he’s too groggy to say “fuck you,” so he lets the AI prattle on with her introduction — of course she’s AI — before he’s slipping out of bed. A little shaky on his feet, but whatever.

Now, Hank gets to voice his sentiment: “Fuckin’ AI. I’m outta here.”

Being in a hospital has him on edge, but at least there’s food once he stumbles out of the hospital room. His stomach growls, so he grabs a muffin. Holds it in his palm, staring at it in a daze as if it’s some pastry that beggars belief.

“Can’t even get coffee in a place like this, huh?” he mutters.

Potluck

Hank can cook — kind of. He’s mostly survived on takeout food for the past few years, but he knows his way around a microwave.

“Oh, you bet I’ve got a signature dish. It’s a fist up your —”

He’s talking to the robot, but his voice is raised so he may as well be talking to everyone nearby.

When Hank steps up to a counter, drumming his fingers along the edge, his mind blanks. But luckily the knife he grabs proceeds to immediately turn into a wriggling lobster.

“What the hell?”

Share a Meal

Hank is stuffing his face, bobbing his head at the robots who insist he must rate every meal.

For flavor, he jots down “yeah.” Presentation — “yes.” Stackability — “ok.”

When Hank gets to the last box, he has to ask: “What the fuck does rizz mean?”

Tummy Ache Survivor

In retrospect, Hank shouldn’t have eaten all that weird food. His stomach is rumbling something fierce, and not from hunger this time.

He places a hand on his stomach. Thins his eyes.

“Shouldn’t have eaten that sandwich in particular,” he says, and, oddly, his stomach starts to feel better when he degrades the food. “Why did you use so much fuckin’ lobster? Just ‘cause your knives and spoons were turning into lobsters doesn’t mean you had to use it all. That’s weird! Needs cheese and mayo, like a normal sandwich.”

Wildcard

(Feel free to PM me here or on Plurk Giangio if you’d like to discuss anything! Also, I’ll match style so please switch to brackets if you prefer.)

arrival! hi!!

[reconstruction]

[Connor spends more time at the hospital than he'd like. once the time of the month rolls around, he's usually seen waiting outside or in the lobby. he's anticipating strays to explore the lower levels, but more importantly, he's cataloging all of the new faces. so he acts as somewhat of a wallflower, blending in to the crowds (as much as he can, he still wears his uniform every so often despite Damian's blatant dislike of it, and today is one of those days).

what he doesn't expect is a ping to his stored memory as he scans. information floods him and he's standing there, shocked. recall. system running at optimal levels. software instability. error? y_n?

n.

this is not an error.

he beelines for Hank as he holds his muffin, and emotions - emotions, big ones, rise up inside of him: relief, worry, fear. fear. he shouldn't be here. but Connor is happy to see him all the same, even though he isn't quite sure what to do when he reaches him, except-]

Lieutenant, [there's urgency in his voice, mixed with excitement. he doesn't know where to start. so he cheats, scans his vitals] we should get you something better to eat.

[his mouth breaks into a smile,]

And maybe a drink.

Leshy | Inscryption

[sacrificesmustbeplayed]

((The game came out in 2021 but I'll still try to avoid major spoilers, but some aspects of his character could be considered spoilers on their own.))

Potluck/Share A Meal

[Leshy is taller than the average human and though he looks like a man from a distance or in silhouette, his skin is bark-like, his beard appears to be made of leaves, there are branches and mushrooms growing from his hair, and there is lichen and fungi growing on his body.

His fridge is on fire.

Leshy is aware of this but does nothing to stop it from burning as he carefully finishes making his... dish.

Even with the chaos inherent in the event and the ingredients, he still somehow made something that resembles a large pile of brown, unappetizing sludge on purpose, given that he makes an appreciative sound as he puts down the plate. In fact, if anything went wrong (aside from the fridge that is still very much on fire) it's that it's entirely possible that this dish has been made more edible than it would normally be.

The label of the dish calls it "The Prize".]

I do not make this for just any occasion.

Share a Meal

[bigpoofymammoth]

[As soon as he laid his eyes upon it, Manny couldn’t help but feel skeptical about this dish. Not that anyone could blame him given how it looks.]

What exactly did you put into this?

Sumeragi Subaru | X/1999

[unhappymedium]

[1: Arrival]

It isn't the first time Subaru found himself waking up in a hospital after an event, but he really didn't expect it to ever happen again after the final battle in Tokyo. With destruction raining on the city, the country, the world, it was the end of everything. He in his own way helped cause it - so what incredibly inappropriate irony it was to have him arrive to a place to save the universe.

"You have the wrong person." There's no questioning it. Someone, anyone, other than him should be here instead.

The shock of survival makes him gaze at the floor for long while, wondering if this is actually a form of afterlife he hadn't studied. But eventually Subaru blinks, stands, and gets dressed. The clothing is still torn but wearable, and he throws on his black coat before leaving the room.

-
[2: Potluck]

Subaru participates in the cooking competition in a surreal daze, blindly shuffling through the open kitchen to mix ingredients without fully registering what he was doing, so well wishes to those who want to try whatever abominable flavor profile rises from a mess of noodles, rice, fruit, cabbage, onions, screaming egg, and chocolate sauce.

In theory it was an okonomiyaki. Only in theory. He gently sticks the bowl of half-stirred slop into the flame-engulfed fridge and questions if this isn't all a hallucination in the final moments of life as his sleeves start to smoulder and burn.

-
[3: Tummy Ache Survivor]

Not even a little friendly exorcism is getting rid of these ghost chickens. They squawk and flap and nest around Subaru as he stands there with a tray of someone's flan. Strangely, having ghosts - actual or not - makes him feel better. He tries to touch one but fingers poke through the back of the chicken. There's an offended cluck, and another chicken flies up to roost on his head.

-
[4: Wildcard]
[Timeskip forward or assumed CR or other prompts, anything works for me]

Potluck

[redheadedstepdad]

[ Shanks is one of the few judges who seems to be here willingly. Free food is free food, even if it looks extremely suspicious. He's keeping his pen and grading cards in his pocket to keep his only hand free. ]

What's that?

[ The smell is... something. He wouldn't call it good, but it probably won't be the worst dish he's ever tried. ]

Sakura l Tsubasa: Reservoir Chronicle

[featherings]

[ooc: I am the rustiest and need to canon review but. I'm debating options and thought she might work?? Potentially? I'd probably take her from earlier on ala like. Piffle arc, for anyone familiar. If I do app her and go with this game and not something else/a different character idk.]

Arrival:

[...Well, waking up in a new place isn't that unusual for her. Sakura has been getting better about that, about her energy levels increasing more over time as she gets
back more feathers. But she is still recovering more, in the process of still remembering everything and quite entirely regaining as much energy as she had before without tiring as easily.

Still, she can't help but to wonder on the situation.]

My world...? Clow? Ah, but then, wait, what about all the other worlds we have visited back home? Are they...?

[Yuuko, Tomoyo and everyone else. Were their worlds in danger too? She wants to help their homes too but she isn't sure if that's how this is supposed to work. Kurogane's goal was to get back home. She can't let his be destroyed without him.

At the thought of the others, she immediately glances around expectantly. Syaoran, Fai, Kurogane and Mokona have to be somewhere around if she is. Right? Cue her rushing and scrambling, all but falling flat on her face as she trips in her haste to check the hallway to see if she can find them.]

Potluck:

E-ehhh?

[Sakura almost drops the egg she cracks in her attempt to maybe figure one of the recipes she remembers making with Fai from their time running the cafe together in that simulated city. But she isn't expecting the egg to scream? That is what makes her start, her eyes widening in surprise as she accidentally flails, instinctively scrambling to catch the egg to not let it fall and get everywhere.]

Why is it screaming?

[In her prior experience and memories, even if they might still be not complete, the eggs do not scream.....]

Share a Meal:

Wet? Rizz? I'm not sure I know what 'rizz' means to mark for that. And I guess most dishes shouldn't be wet? I mean, even a soup is thicker than water....

[Why would a dish be 'wet'? What is this supposed to even mean?]

Wildcard:

[idk? Any other options people want to go with??]

share a meal

[metrop_lois]

[Lois perks up when she hears Sakura commenting on her marks.]

Rizz is slang for charisma. They probably mean that your dish is good or has a lot of presence when compared to the others around it.

[Her brows perk up there.]

So what did you make?

Shelley Lang | OC

[dustyroad]

[Quick Info: Shelley is a hard on his luck private investigator who recently found himself as suspect in a case that hits too close to home. He recently had an NDE that now allows him to see ghosts, on top of acquiring a general vision problem, a chronic illness, and a weird girl who may or may not actually be his niece.

Info on Journal. Folks who met Lola on prior TDMs, this is her Uncle.]

Arrival.

['Dead again?'

That was Shelley's first thought when he woke up in the pristine room that sounded like the boundary between life and death and had the bitter, acrid, medicinal scent of hospitals in the air. The glasses he reached for did little to actually help his vision at this point, but it was good enough for Shelley to squint blearily at the kindly woman who greeted him. His thoughts strayed to Lola, with her peppy smile and cloud of cropped hair, who had greeted him last time he awoke in a hospital with a tangle of tubes and wires hooked to him.

It was just part of dealing with being betrayed by his own body, he supposed.]

Thanks for the info, but I've gotta get back.

[He said hurriedly after the woman told him the situation at hand. A contest to save his own universe sounded too grandiose-- he cared about matters on a smaller scale. Like Lola and the Twins trapped in a blizzard with him and a violent narcissist with poor impulse control.]

The girls need me,

[He added, gathering himself and making for the door.]

I don't accept the challenge-- I need to get back.

[And he left the room-- only to be greeted at the lobby by the inviting scent of coffee and baked goods.

His vision danced in the bright lights, and he planted a hand on the wall to help properly ground him in reality. He stared at the scene before him, brows furrowed, as he took a moment to make sense of what he was seeing.]

... What in the continental breakfast is this?

Potluck

Food? No, don't talk to me about food~~

[Shelley whined at the bots ushering him toward the stoves and pantries that were set up along the street. His stomach, forever upset since his last stint in the hospital, was already churning at the scents of all sorts of food cooking in the air.

He had no idea if he was hungry or wanted to be sick.]

Wait, you want me to cook?

[He balked-- and then, already so tired of this, shrugged.]

Fine. It'll be your regret.

Where's the bread at? It's gotta be...

[In the pantry. He opened it up-- and only saw kittens on every shelf. Shelley, shooketh, took off his glasses and wiped them off in a reflective gesture, then stared at the pantry in disbelief]

What???

Wildcard!

[make up your own prompt! Hmu at woodrift for questions. ]

Arrival

[aimsforknees]

[ John is here to gather up medical supplies for an at home stash. He's just arrived with an empty tote bag (which doesn't exactly match with his suit, but times are hard) and is surveying the spread in the lobby when someone else steps out.

John gives a raised eyebrow in response to the comment. ]

Continental breakfast, I would assume. Only, just the pastries.

Lois Lane | My Adventures with Superman

[metrop_lois]

POTLUCK;

[It really shows how many wild things Lois has been through recently that her main reaction to Aurora is, "Not this again." Hadn't everything just gotten settled? Wasn't there some commotion the group was headed to last? Or had she already made it back to her apartment that evening?

Either way Lois is standing here now, muffin in one hand and to-go cup of tea in the other as she peers down the thoroughfare at the absolute culinary chaos occurring. She cocks one brow way up.]

Uh. What is going on here.

[Does she get her question answered before she's thrust into cooking her signature dish? Probably not. In the heat of the moment her brain doesn't go to anything she'd consider a signature dish but the easiest one she could do with her eyes closed -- gyeran-mari. Rolled omelets were probably cheating given how many times she'd had them made for her and made them herself but Lois isn't above using things to her advantage, okay.

Until she finally gets in a booth, finds an apron and goes to start cracking those eggs. When the first one literally screams at her she immediately fumbles the egg shell, drops it in with the egg itself and retreats from the bowl with her hands raised.]

... On second thought how about some buldak.

TUMMY ACHE SURVIVOR;

[Lois usually has a cast iron stomach but one of those dishes she was so happy to taste test really turned on her. She readily scoops up a bunch of her own dish, that cheesy buldak. She hadn't taste tested it just for fairness sake but now she relishes in it, popping a big spoonfull in her mouth to mutter around it.]

Mmh, thank goodness.

[If anything will burn away the bad memories it's fire chicken.]

WILDCARD;

[Want to try another prompt with Lois? Be my guest! PMs are open for your plotting needs. <3]

Potluck

[bigpoofymammoth]

[When the mammoth heard something like a scream, he quickly turns his head over towards Lois's direction.]

Was that you or did your egg scream just now?

[By now, he'd seen and heard too many weird things happening in Etraya that he isn’t surprised if the latter was the case.]

Maria 🦋 Silent Hill 2

[heavensnight]

❥Arrival.
[Waking up in a hospital might be the very worst thing for Maria to wake up in. Immediately she panics and she wants out. She doesn't get far because Aurora stops her and it's pure shock that somebody is looking at her that stops her in her tracks. Even with the explanation being given, she feels there has to be some trick to all of this because this cannot be her task. It makes no sense.

As she stumbles out, not sure what to do because things look normal, she's stunned if somebody looks at her and she openly stares at them, wondering if they are looking at her or through her.

If they say something, she still looks surprised.] ...are you talking to me?

❥Potluck.
[She's never cooked. There's memories of cooking but she knows she has never cooked before. This excuse doesn't seem to matter and she tries to explain that no, seriously, this is such a bad idea? But her complaints seem pointless so fine. There is only one recipe that her mind gives her and so she starts working on it.

Or tries. Every time she picks up an ingredient, it grows heavier. To the point that the onion is much too heavy. Looking to someone near her, she huffs,] Wanna help a girl out? I wasn't made for heavy lifting.

❥Share a meal.
Oh, really, I couldn't eat another bite. I'm on a diet or something. [Her tone isn't selling her argument but she doesn't care. She hasn't even had one bite of the food here but nobody has to know that. Maria isn't entirely sure about eating anything here in the first place, let alone anything cooked here. She'd seen the disasters.

Instead, she's just putting hearts for all of the grades, humming. Well, except for wet. Seems like that's just in bad taste to put a heart for that. That just gets an X.]

― potluck

[ingestion]

( after being here sometime, heather had become wary of the food here and of anyone who might be offering free food. so her being here today was truly the result of her investigating things, writing them down and trying to figure out a pattern. so when maria spoke out to her, heather had been writing something down with a pen and a notebook.

while someone else might have scoffed at the idea of a onion being far too much for a woman to handle, heather knew better. at the very least, she wanted to know why this woman was struggling with it. additionally, there was a strange vibe about this person, almost familiar... )

Sure, I'll give it a try.

( she reached out to grab it, but instead found it impossible to move it. )

Are you sure this is a real onion?

armand | interview with the vampire

[namozi]

potluck.

[admittedly this is very little reason for armand to be here, but he has always found the relentless progress of technology fascinating. even in matters as useless to him as culinary ones. the whole being a vampire thing didn't exactly make food necessary or appealing. unlike louis he had no interest in forcing what tasted like paste down his throat.

so rather than avoid it he sits on the counter by the stovetop, watching the robots and their cameras, watching the other chefs from a distance, contemplating what he's been told and what he's only heard from those who pass.

largely he will not seem to be doing any cooking at all. perhaps he is just sitting there. perhaps he might be found putting various food items in the blender and hitting the highest setting. of course these are pulled from a pot at the stovetop, one that seems to change whatever is inside it each time he lifts the lid.

he rather enjoys watching this food gatchapon for a while, lifting and shutting the pot lid again and again, before he settles on blender experiments. an apple, a tomato, a handful of peanuts - all mixed, then examined with a critical eye, then dumped into the sink or trash before starting again.

a chicken leg makes the machine groan and die, and armand taps at the glass as if this is interesting instead of property damage.]

share a meal.

[yeah, the whole 'can't really eat food that isn't blood because it just tastes like unpleasant muck' thing? armand does consider disagreeing with the overly friendly yet fascinating robot attempting to pressure him into taste testing, but what else does he have to do? adjusting to the ever changing norms of fleeting eras is at least some practice in surviving the absurdity of this place. though he does rather hope food isn't always so central to socializing or, in his case, watching everyone else in hopes of adjusting and learning what he can.

case in point, if someone happens to be sitting close enough he may simply... you know, cheat? glance over, right the same answer for the food he has not touched on his plate. even if the answer is absurd, even if it's for matters he can likely decide on his own like 'presentation' or 'wet.']

[ooc; hi, so this character can be a lot and i have a, opt out page for that with some content warnings! i highly doubt any of the more brutal ones would come up here anyway but still.

i don't mind matching prose or brackets, both are fine, and i can be found at dichotomy if needed!]

share a meal

[twin_blade]

[ The half-elf wanders through the dining area, but doesn't sit or partake of any of the food offerings. Mostly, he likes to check things out when something is happening, just to see if he can gather any new information about this place.

As he moves between the tables, he does notice how one refined looking man avoids touching his plate and can't help but comment. ]

I don't trust the shit they serve us, either.

Little Cato【^✪ᆽ✪^】Final Space

[furtitude]

[Little Cato doesn't initially react well to being kidnapped, what with, y'know, having been kidnapped before. For three years. His reaction moves from pleading, to anger, to punching a wall that is much too hard to be punched, resulting in a bruised paw.]

[But after throwing an entire tantrum, ultimately, he decides to just deal with the problem in front of him.]

[At least he hasn't been shoved into some miserable cell this kidnapping. He decides he's just a temporarily kidnapped kidnappee. Embarrassing, but he's going to figure out how to fix this whole problem of universal disaster and get home. Or he won't, but he'll at least have given it a try.]

[In a way, this is kind of lucky, that at least one member of his crew is here, because someone can at least try to stop a "the universe is going to end" multiple hover-car pile up. His world already has one existential horror to deal with as is.]

[And he's nothing if not adaptable.]


A) potluck - I

[Little Cato's dish looks absolutely horrendous. He's from a world where machines do basically all the cooking. The only time he ever actually cooked was during a very long, long dark time alone, and he hadn't exactly had prime ingredients, just the few things he could grow hydroponically.]

[That he'd had to eat day after day after day.]

[Between the lack of experience, eating lots of bland and samey food through most of his life (all 14 or 74 years of it, depending on how you did the math when it came to time alteration bullshit), and the complete lack of a human palate, the food looks...dire.]

[Absolutely dire. It is a clashing mess of ingredients and different flavors. Sweet, salty, sour, umami, and bitter don't usually work together all at once.]

[He tastes it. Squints. Sticks out his tongue.]

[It's even dire to a Ventrexian palate, too.]

Welp. [He picks up the entire steaming pot and dumps it in the sink. Hopefully they have some kind of disposal, but if they don't it's someone else's problem. They kidnapped him, they can clean up his mess.] My universe had a good run.

[He has no idea if his world will be instantly doomed after one challenge, but he has to accept the possibility.]

[It's surprisingly easy to accept. He and his crew had gotten disabused of the notion that they could always truly save things after they couldn't save the Earth. And he's also just strangely resigned to the idea. Probably because now that Invictus is loose his universe will most likely die one way or another. There is a serenity in accepting that possibility, even while raging against the dying of the light.].

B) potluck - II

[Little Cato's cooking gets sidelined quickly from the distraction.]

[He sees something start falling out of the cupboard, holds his hands to his cheeks, and shrieks-]

[- in delight.]

Are these Earth cats?

[He knows that Earth cats have to look like Ventrexians or his adoptive human dad wouldn't call him "spider-cat" as a nickname and mention Earth cats sometimes in reference to his species.]

They're like mutant Ventrexian babies!

[He totally ignores any further attempts at cooking and drops down to the floor amidst a slowly increasing horde. The kittens react strongly to him, his smell and size cue-ing to them that he is somehow an older cat. One of them tries to play fight with his hand, another bats at his tail, which is flicking around happily. Others start to awkardly climb into his lap to cuddle.]

They're freaks!

[He says this with a measure of delight, though. They're cute in a very deeply deformed way. He starts petting them, but it's a bit more in the way someone might caress a baby's hair than how a human would scritch a cat. One starts grooming his arm.]

Ew. Weirdo.

[He doesn't push the cat away.]

c) tummy ache survivor

[Cato has been affected by the food in a very strange way: he's been filled with apparently boundless energy.]

[This is a problem.]

[...On account of the fact he usually always already has boundless energy.]

I don't know what it is about this place -

[It's said while he kicks off a wall and flips over a counter.]

But wow, it's got me pretty hype, Do you think it was the food? Maybe it was the food. Did someone put something in the food? Is it caffeine? I think I'm not supposed to have caffeine. My dad - he's human - always tells me not to have caffeine but then again I think he thinks it's poisonous because he also thinks I'm not supposed to have grapes and chocolate and I think that's just an Earth cat thing.

[He drops into a fighting stance, firing off a few punches at the air.]

Do you know how to fight? We should spar.

[He keeps darting forward and one of his swings accidentally nudges a glass of water on the table. Almost spilling it.]

[He stops. Then, without really thinking, he reaches out a paw and slowly slides it off the table. Fortunately, it doesn't break, but it does spill all over the floor and clatter away.]

[He squints.]

I don't know why I just did that.

[Then he goes right back to running around again.]

[Someone has the zoomies.]

d) wild card

Feel free to hit me up with any other prompt you want, a food rating from another attempt at the same horrible food, etc. You can contact me by PM or throckmorton

[ooc: I'll match prose or actionspam]

Potluck II

[bigpoofymammoth]

[Manny watches as the kittens multiplies out of the cupboard. It was a strange sight, though nowhere near as strange as utensils being replaced by shrimps. However, the mammoth couldn’t help but raise his eyebrows at Little Cato's words.]

What exactly do you mean by "mutant Ventrexian babies"?

eddie brock / venom movies

[decodex]

    001. arrive with a smile

( after waking up and ensuring that, yes, venom is right where he's supposed to be, eddie does his best to take in his surroundings before aurora shows up. venom wants to eat her holographic head, eddie assures him that this is probably a bad, bad idea, and the two of them manage to make it through a conversation with minimal threats, acts of violence, and/or bodily harm.

what aurora says isn't, like, particularly helpful, but it's better than nothing.

plus, they're apparently being set free soon after, which is rare. normally when eddie gets captured, he has to break free. the fact that the door is swinging open, all inviting, feels a bit like a trap... but curiosity wins out over skepticism, and they head for the lobby, drawn in by the smells of breakfast. )

So, what are you? ( sorry, random civilian. eddie's assuming you're in on all this somehow. ) CIA? FBI? LMNOP?

( weird set-up for a government agency, but whatever. he hands over a cup of tea, suspicious, but not suspicious enough to not offer a stranger a drink. )

Sugar?

    002. share a meal

( somehow, they managed to not get themselves roped into playing top chef, but now they're being thrown into the role of a food critic, which might be worse. seeing as how eddie's been living on a steady diet of fast food, microwave dinners, human heads, and hershey bars, he's probably not the best judge when it comes to real meals. )

Yeah, hey, does this tie into the whole saving Earth from imminent destruction thing? Because that seems, you know... kind of important. A little higher on the docket than sampling tuna casserole—

( the robot is jostling him towards the table, rather insistently at that, so it looks like he's not actually going to get a better feel for what the hell is going on here until he plays along. )

Okay, let's... get this over with. ( no offense to the poor chef who's just poured their heart and soul into this meal; eddie just really wants to get to the real problem, the multiverse, the destruction of his planet, all that. )

Judge, that's me. Chef, that's you. Dish is to be determined.

You, uh, wanna walk me through your... process?

  003. tummy ache survivor

( trying a bunch of different food helps, strangely enough. it's nice to have a real meal, or at least a collection of small bites from numerous meals that added up to something real-ish in the end. he's happy. he's content. he's ready to take a nap and investigate this place in earnest afterward.

but, no, this meal has other plans for him. this meal fills him with energy, it makes him feel like he's full of caffeine, or maybe cocaine. eddie and venom can do anything! they can climb up walls! they are stronger than even the strongest human!

so, all of that energy is getting poured into eddie karate chopping the air faster than humanly possible. he looks like a tickle me elmo running at five-times speed, slicing at the air erratically, kicking without warning, doing moves that his body should not be capable of doing. and he looks miserable all the while. anyone who gets near, eddie tries to warn: )

Hey! Just blowing off some steam! You probably don't want to come any closer! Tacos, am I right? I'm a real loose cano— ( meanwhile, venom wants nothing more than to beat someone up right now, so he wheels eddie around to face their challenger. eddie whispers, seemingly to himself: ) No, no, no! We are not doing this! I'm not going to 'finish him'— This is not Street Fighter! ...Wait, that's not even Street Fighter. That's not even the right game!

( and to the person he's violently karate chopping toward: )

Heh. Just the tacos talking.

[leastdramatic]

[Thankfully, Eddie/Venom’s would-be target is quite used to dodging attacks. Jason’s opponent having a seemingly one-sided conversation with himself is another matter though. Jason’s quick to sidestep another karate chop]

Yeah. Sure. Taco Tuesdays can be pretty rough.

[Judging by the sarcastic tone, maybe Jason doesn’t believe Eddie]

james sunderland 🟥 silent hill 2

[redsquares]

POTLUCK

[He still feels like he’s walking through a dream. Just because the pendulum has swung from nightmare to fever dream doesn’t make it any less surreal, after all. It’s a thought that echoes in his head repetitiously as he’s handed an apron to wear in preparation.

He holds it out — looks at it a little dubiously. Very tiredly.]

Is this a joke…?

[Well, fast forward a few minutes later, and James is definitely wearing said apron as he tries to create a “signature dish” that he didn’t know he ever had. This should be straightforward, at least; he can keep to himself while trying to whip up some kind of meal, staying out of everyone’s way. Surely no mishaps will happen in the interim.

Except, when he opens a cupboard to grab a few spices, he’s met with a retinue of mewling kittens.]

What the hell.

[He closes the cupboard. Maybe he’s seeing things. Opens the cupboard again. The little fluffy kittens start spilling out, and surprised, he lurches forward to catch them. If you’re nearby, he’s going to drag you into this ridiculousness by calling out—]

A little help here?!

SHARE A MEAL

Is this one yours?

[Says James, now strongarmed into rating the finished dishes. He doesn’t seem terribly put-off by anything, especially if the “cook” is nearby. He’d still like to be polite about it.

Either way, when he does decide to take a taste, he…

Well, he makes a face. Swallows, and clear his throat.]

It’s, uh— It’s. [It sure is Something.] It’s… unique.

TUMMY ACHE SURVIVOR

[Silent Hill didn’t kill him, but this tummy ache will.

He’s had too many questionable dishes for it to be good for any one human being, even James Sunderland. Find him seated somewhere, hunched forward, arms crossed and close to his stomach.

Pain. Stomach pain. Why this.]

Ugh…

[it’s fine he deserves it]

Potluck

[odinpusrex]

Lack you experience in wrangling beasts?

[The man who seems to answer James' cry for help is a stoic and melancholic sort, his voice is tinged with a Scandinavian accent of some sort, and but for as deep as his voice may be, it is also softly spoken. He eyes James and those kittens for a few moments, as if deciding whether or not he will leave James to his would-be kitten doom...

Then he puts his knife down—he had been cubing ham for the potato klubb he plans to make—so that he might turn his attention more fully to the situation. He pays no mind to how his knife has suddenly shifts in its place all on its own, choosing to approach James, though he stops when one of the kittens frees itself and runs directly into his ankle.

Glancing down at it, the kitten gives a surprised little hiss, but as it looks up at Barnabas it freezes—either from fear or uncertainty. It doesn't matter ultimately, because Barnabas reaches down and plucks the small little furry potato up, examining it with his maintained aloof expression.

Then his gaze returns to James and his predicament.]

They require a pen of some sort.

Brandon Carver | The Walking Dead

[fortitudosalutis]

Arrival

[ Carver awakes with a start, grabbing at a wound on his chest that suddenly, violently, isn’t there anymore. He digs his nails in, searching for pain, for blood, for an anchor to attach himself to in the midst of abject fucking confusion, but it doesn’t come. Instead, there’s a hospital bed, almost offensively clean, and a woman’s calm voice.

Some thrown furniture later, he’s out in the hall and left to his own devices. The moment he spots another person, he’ll shift instinctively into a combat stance. ]

What.

[ The whole place smells like Starbucks. He wonders if he’s having a psychotic break. ]

Potluck

[ The insanity is continuing, apparently. Carver stares dumbly at the robot, rigid and uncomfortable in the sudden abundance of light and noise and people, to say nothing of the food smells. There’s so much food—just like the old world. ]

Yeah, fuck this.

[ He’s going to find a knife, thanks. ]

Wildcard

[ OOC: Carver was in for a few months, but is clean-slated here. Have at it! Hit me up at mirrorfaded if you’re in the mood for something specific. ]

arrival

[cybertron_gravitron]

[Carver shifting into a combat stance, while possibly not the right decision, is an entirely understandable one. Giant robots are very good at setting off the fight-or-flight response solely by existing.

Even a round, friendly one doing nothing more than calmly sipping an odd glowing substance.]

I don't know what. You hungry? They've got food and drinks. Which is kind of the least they could do considering, y'know, all the kidnapping.

louis guiabern | metaphor: refantazio | MASSIVE SPOILERS AAAA I'M SORRY

[melancholystar]

[ooc: please note, I am taking him from the very end of the game. There will be spoilers so tread carefully.]

i. arrival
[The light is bright enough to wake him up from his slumber. Everything in unfamiliar, and it's white in here. So disgustingly bright. He doesn't react to anything at all, even as Aurora approaches him and their eyes meet. His eyes are almost as empty as hers, having lost to Will at the end of his journey. Was this the after life? If it was, it was surprisingly calm and peaceful. He hasn't felt peace like this since his childhood in the eldan sanctum.

He's about to close his eyes again, before Aurora informs him of his mission and he. Almost wants to laugh. It was laughable, really. Save Euchronia? The boy did that already, according to the people. But now he needed to prove that his world deserved to exist?

He scoffs, and pays no mind to Aurora as the door swings open, and he sits up from the bed. The smell of autumn surrounding his senses, but he doesn't care. The first thing he'd need to do is figure out how to leave this place. Or rule it. Either way, he didn't care, and he comes out with a very intimidating aura through those doors.]

What drivel. The world rejected my ideals, and now I must save it?

[And that's all he has to say.]

ii. 5. Teach me your dish.

[Louis Guiabern was a man that strived to enlist the best of the best. He didn't care about their background or their race, as long as they proved their worth. And whoever made this dish? Certainly proved their worth as a chef. It immediately captures his attention, and he calmly approaches the chef who made this dish. Actually... Smiling?? At them? But it's a light smile. Take it as you will, as he speaks with a surprisingly calm tone despite his stature and previous occupation.]

You're the chef?

[His name, back home, would be more than enough to make people cower in fear. However, it's different here, and it's a much more casual interaction with him. One that he hasn't had in quite a long time. It... Maybe, just maybe, could be a normal conversation.]

Your food is quite good. Show me your recipe.

[He's not asking rudely!]

[OOC: FEL HERE... VOICE TESTING... please be gentle.]

ii.

[cultist]

Are you that amazed over a salad?

[ sango laughs themselves at the response, their hands picking up some of the stray dishes next to them as they seem ready to clean up what they've made. before them, there's all sorts of fruits cut up in slices, and a few pieces of lettuce that they've pulled off around the outside of the ball not too much caring for those. ]

Let's see. There's strawberry, blueberry, pineapple, lettuce...

[ they pick up a slice of fresh kiwi, holding it between their thumb and index finger as they bring it to the man's mouth. ]

Seems I forgot the kiwi... ha, want a bite?

TILL | Alien Stage (prose & action ok)

[pethetic]

1 ► 𝙿𝙾𝚃𝙻𝚄𝙲𝙺 _

[Till’s already delirious from his arrival—he’d woken up in the sterile intake room after a traumatic day of death, including his own… and he’d died, performing on stage where, like his opponent, his life was on the line. and obviously, Till had lost, too burdened by witnessing the death of his friend in the same day, in the same manner.

that was disorienting enough—then to somehow end up being fussed at by a couple of robots helpfully prod Till towards the cooking area—to which he vehemently fights against, screeching and kicking at them, tearing between them with a struggle not unlike a feral stray cat scrambling from its captors.]

Get off of me!! I don’t even know how to cook!! What the hell are you—!! Stop!

[it seems he manages to safely get away, but his momentum doesn’t stop—which is, unfortunately, why if your character doesn’t have the appropriate reflexes, Till’s going to slam full-force right into them, so distracted as he was watching his back.]

2 ► 𝚂𝙷𝙰𝚁𝙴 𝙰 𝙼𝙴𝙰𝙻 _

[Till’s managed escape once, but he’s so jittery and shaken up, he’s just wide-eyed and shivering as he’s forcibly plopped into a seat, encouraged incessantly to sample the wears.

he feels like for sure he’s going to die again. what the hell is going on here?? what the fuck is this? how is he supposed to eat?! after all that!?

but…maybe if he does…these damn robots will get the fuck off his back. until the robots jovially encourage him to also fill out score-cards. looking grimly cross, Till turns with a tense jaw and a gnarly snarl, gripping the heads of one of the robots.]

I’m not eating all this. I’m not scoring anything.

[what the hell this? so he’s a judge, now? and not even of his own free will?? he’s overcoming the whole dying thing and is getting ready to do the murdering thing instead, if these things don’t get off his back.]

3 ► 𝚃𝚄𝙼𝙼𝚈 𝙰𝙲𝙷𝙴 𝚂𝚄𝚁𝚅𝙸𝚅𝙾𝚁 (?)_

[apparently, at some point, Till had at least…tried some of the food, through whatever scenario lead him there.

and that’s why as he thinks he’s finally made his escape, he leans heavily against the wall with one arm, bent at the elbow with his head dropped. his other hand folds across his stomach, and unceremoniously, he vomits about as aggressively as he’s done anything else since his arrival. whether it’s the food or his nerves wholly rejecting food is lost on him, but it’s not like he’s wondering right now.

great.]

3 - is it truly surviving it if it fought its way out of your guts and onto the floor?

[ivan]

[ well

there sure is someone vomiting right in the hallway he needs to go through.

it’s not really ivan’s issue besides this person being in the way and the fact that ivan is aware it’s awkward for a person not to intervene and try to help in this type of situation.

but… this is a wholly new and unfamiliar place. ivan has to start over with the people here like he did at anakt. to survive, it’s probably best to keep up the amicable personality he kept before. it would be helpful to learn about the people around him, too. ]

You okay? Need to go to the infirmary? [ not that he knows where it is. ]

Ango Sakaguchi | Bungo Stray Dogs

[notbymyside]

1

[Ango listens to Aurora's explanation, and he listens well. Waking up in a strange location he does not recognize is cause for great concern, given what had just been happening to him. And that explanation on top of it? Proving his world is worthy? Yeah, that sounds just like something a certain someone would say.

It still feels strange. After all, Ango is Just A Guy. He's in middle management, works late, and just lives his life. What could anyone see in him?

Needless to say, by the time he's out and wandering the halls, he has a lot on his mind. He's actually walking close to one of the walls, fingertips idly tracing along as he walks. He seems lost in thought, until he comes upon someone walking in the same halls.]

Oh, hello there. It's good to see there are others here.

[Smiling, he offers his hand out for a handshake. Even in a situation like this, it's still important to be polite.]



2

[What could a man who lives off of coffee and insomnia possibly cook?

Well, they DID say dish, not food. And he can make a fancy coffee at least. So he's in the process of brewing a pot of coffee when suddenly someone else is now stuck to his leg.]

...Hand me the cream from the fridge, will you?

[The most normalest man here will just run with the chaos that is happening around him.]


extra:

[If you have an idea you can just throw it in here, or ping me at husbando if you want to work something out.]

2

[unaliveyourself]

[This --

might as well happen, Dazai supposes. It almost makes a strange amount of sense, if being in this place is meant to be some manner of test, much as Dazai doesn't actually put much stock in the sales pitch.

And if they're being tested right now, well. If they're being tested for any qualities like maturity or being reasonable rather than a petty little brat, Dazai is about to fail this one, because he definitely just handed Ango the sour cream instead, having quietly peeled off the label while digging around in the fridge so it's not obvious.]

Here you go~

Ari Sloane | You, Again: A Novel (CW: alcohol)

[talkstoomuch]

⏵ arrival ⏴

Ari was the kind of person who honestly didn't know when to shut up, so she got as much information as she could as quickly as she could. To say that it was scary was putting it mildly. Ari? Try to save her entire universe?

No way. No way had they picked the right person.

But her universe was where here favorite people and her fiance were from, so damnit, she was gonna do her part as good as possible. She owed it to them who'd forgiven her and taken her back after she'd spent most of the past ten years screwing up. She also really didn't want to think about how badly she'd break if something, anything happened to Josh. They deserved a lifetime.

So she put on her best brave face and ventured out where she hoped (and was right about) finding other people. Ari approached the nearest one, she wasn't gonna be picky, and grinned a grin she hoped was confident and convincing. "Can you believe this shit? Of course we're gonna succeed, kinda have to considering, uh. Things. Right?"

⏵ potluck ⏴

So of course the first thing which happens convinces her they should've picked Josh. Cook a signature meal? That's what he was for. Ari wracked her brain, trying to remember the last thing she'd sampled her way through helping Josh cook at home and came up with matzah brei.

Eggs, matzah, vanilla, cream, kind of like French toast only (if all went well) a little more crunchy.

So of course when she cracked her first egg into the bowl and the egg actually fucking screamed at her, she screamed back and threw the egg, shell and all, into the bowl, her chest heaving for breath.

"--what the hell is this shit? Eggs. Don't. Scream. Unless these are some crazy-ass stunt eggs from Spencer and I thought they got rid of their practical joke shit decades ago to make more room for 'adult entertainment games.' Are your eggs screaming, let's trade?"

⏵ share a meal ⏴

If there was one thing Ari could do, it was eat. But this was bullshit. She had to sample everything? Jesus fucking Christ, she was gonna die of full.

She poked the person next to her with her pencil and muttered under her breath, "Am I the only one tempted to give everyone 5s for rizz and call it a day?"

⏵ tummy ache survivor ⏴

Oh no.

Oh shit.

Ari had forgotten what it was like to not be engaged to a chef and not have a BFF as a chef, because whatever it was she had eaten, it was not sitting right.

Actually, that was putting it mildly, whatever it was that was cooked wrong tasted of raw and of sadness and she had to get the flavor out of her mouth pronto.

She lurched forward, trying to not look as sick as she felt and started rooting around for a bottle of Jack.

"Whiskey. Whiskey. My kingdom for a Jack and Coke, heavy on the Jack" She turned wide brown eyes on the nearest person. "If you have any mercy in your soul, you'll tell me where the Jack is. And Tums. Actually, that combination sounds awful, I'll settle for the Jack. Please?"

arrival

[justprime]

"I've faced worse odds," says the nearby gorilla-armed robot.

Optimus hadn't, not really, but at little bit of optimism seemed like it would help. It could certainly be argued that he'd faced similar odds, anyways.

"I'm Optimus Primal. How are you holding up?"

Chu Wenshan | Have You Seen My Brother

[nobraincell]

1. Potluck

[Chu Wenshan is new, lost, confused, and probably didn't understand most of what that weird ghost lady said when he first woke up here. And now he's...well, he doesn't really know how to cook, but he picked up a carrot and it grew, so now he's reaching for a steak in hopes of making that grow, and....it's turned to soup in his hands.]

........Can you roast a soup? [Maybe he should find a bowl...]

2. share a meal

[Now why on earth would Chu Wenshan ever turn down a free meal? He quietly watches as a helper bot fills up a plate with one of everything, politely thanks it once it comes back, and proceeds to Very Seriously attempt to rate everything...except he's marking some of these with X or O, some with Chinese numerals, and "rizz" gets a little scribbled drawing of a flower?]

All of these foods have flavor...what a strange thing to rate. [Did he think that one was a yes/no question...]

3. tummy ache survivor

[Do you hear clucking? Like, a lot of clucking? There might in fact be a pile of digital chickens over there at one of the tables. Occasionally, as the chickens flutter around, you might catch a glimpse of a person underneath them...he's not moving, but he's sitting upright, so he's probably still alive??]

1

[kidnappered]

[He has not been stalking Chu Wenshan. Stalking implies a whole host of things that absolutely did not apply to the way Ouyang Duyu followed Chu Wenshan from a distance to watch the way he fumbled his way through this situation.

Finally though he had to step in. This was just way too embarrassing.]

I'd really like to know how you plan to put a soup on a fire without putting it out.

Tommy Shepherd | Marvel Comics (616) | OTA

[slowmotionbuscrash]

Roll a die - 16, 10, and 1

[ Tommy is a connoisseur of restaurants. He can cook, somewhat, but his cooking skills largely consist of a "boil this in the bag", "place on a tray and put it in the oven", and if he has to, "fry it until it's brown". He's great at following recipes; he just needs a small army of timers to keep him on track.

All of this mean nothing when presented with a huge array of completely raw, totally unprepared ingredients and zero recipes. It also doesn't help that his only motivation is to make the damn robots leave him the hell alone. When complaining, berating, and threatening the robots doesn't accomplish that - fine, fuck it, he'll cook. He's hungry anyway.

He's doing his best, he thinks, grabbing carrots, onion, celery, chicken and noodles. Those things go together. He's seen them together, he knows what "done" tastes like. He can do this. Green stuff. Herbs. Yeah. Needs at least one of those.

And here he hits the first brick wall, because he can't tell the difference between parsley and thyme or indeed any fresh herb. The delay is apparently too long. He doesn't know it, but that's why the tongs he's using to pick up ingredients turns into a king crab, which immediately tries to take a chunk out of his arm.

Tommy swears and wrenches the thing off him, chucking it at the nearest robot. ]

Here's your dinner? Can I GO? Ijustwantfuckinggarlic.

[ That one. That's dill. He can smell it. He's had dill in chicken soup from delis. Dill goes with chicken. Great. Fuck.

The robot follows him into his cooking area, depositing the crab on the counter. Tommy swears and starts searching the kitchen for a mallet to take care of the crustecean.

Five minutes later, the kitchen is a mess with nothing so much as chopped, because he's still playing whack-a-mole with the crabs that came pouring out of every drawer he's open. Whack-a-mole with a cast iron frying pan, because there's nothing in the kitchen resembling a meat tenderizer, potato masher, or knife. Not even a fancy little fork.

Naturally, that is precisely when the universe decided that kittens should rain from the cabinets to encourage him along in his endeavors. Ten minutes into the competition finds him sweaty, furious, and covered in any number of healing scratches from claws of both sea and land. Maybe a sous chef, to keep him on track?

A rope snakes around his entire leg, pulling fast when he tries to get out. Staying there when he tries to vibrate his leg free and screw this he is going to blow those robots up if he gets his hands on them. They're dead. They're so dead. When he sees the person on the other end of the rope, well, he snaps. He's at the end of his rope here. It's not personal. ]

I swear if you don't DO SOMETHING about this -

[ Tommy waves a hand at the general chaos. ]

I am going to hold you responsible for whatever I do!

Tummy Ache Survivor - 6

[ Tommy Shepherd is a lot of things. All of which are ground-dwelling and very fond of personal freedom. Flying, no matter what anyone claims, is not freeing. It is, in fact, terrifying when it's not under your own power or the power of something that you can see and know. Like a plane. Or wings.

Casually drifting up and away with no real control over where and how fast - no thank you. No thank you. Tommy tries to swim back down. Nothing. He only succeeds in getting lightheaded from being upside down.

He reaches his hand out towards a passerby and tries to be cool about it - he does this all the time. Who doesn't? ]

Yo! Help a guy out?

[ OOC: Wildcards are welcome or hit me up on seemarierun. ]

Tummy Ache Survivor

[restitui]

[ He's starting to think that he's gotten off easy with the just having the zoomies (which is funny since, in any universe, he's not the twin who you'd describe "with the zoomies"). He feels like an anxious bundle of nerves one second away from going into a full sprint which is.... honestly sometimes not that different from normal, but usually he doesn't get to the actual "and sprint" phase. ]

[ He feels overloaded, so maybe it's precisely this reason he doesn't see the other kid swimming towards him immediately until he hears the voice and he just... proverbially jumps out of his skin in panic as he turns around, ]

What?

[ It's half a yelp, half a word before he catches sight of the older teenager. ] Oh, god. Yeah.

Here, hold on.

[ He shifts to climb onto a nearby chair and reach a hand out in his direction. ]

Bruce Wayne | Batman Beyond

[knightowl]

arrival

[ The last thing Bruce remembers is Joker's smile.

It's always too many teeth, eyes wide and wild to match. Bruce saw it in his dreams and sometimes when he was awake. It's a smile that would never leave him, no matter how hard he tried to push it down and away.

The gas pulls his face tight, draws his lips up and exposes his gums in a grisly smile that matches the Joker's. He laughs and laughs and laughs at nothing until it feels like his heart might burst. He laughs at that too.

When he wakes up, it's not in the manor. He cannot hear Terry or Barbara or anyone and he wonders how he made it to a hospital. How did they have the means to treat the gas? The first question gets an answer. The second, he doesn't bother to ask. When Aurora leaves him, he takes his cane and makes his way out of the hospital. The food and drink are ignored.

Outside, he stops shy of stepping out completely into the town proper to take in where he's been dragged.

Bruce can see Wayne Tower in the distance, but it seems. Outdated? Old? Familiar and he makes his way toward it. Everything else is ignored until he gets there. ]

tummy ache survivor (03)

[ Bruce has to be picky about what he eats these days. Too much spice and he'll go to sleep and wake up with regrets. He makes the blandest choices to be safe and as he eats, he's filled with a warm feeling. It makes him turn to the person next to him and smile. If you know anything about Bruce, you'd be unsettled by it.

If you don't, you might be unsettled anyway. ]

I used to watch the Gray Ghost with my dad when I was a kid. Food was a lot better than this.

wildcard

I'm easy, hit me with your prompt.

Tummy ache survivor

[leastdramatic]

[There's something distinctively familiar about the old man and the mention of the Gray Ghost tugs at the feeling even more. The smile's really throwing Jason off though]

Yeah, I don't think this stuff got cooked in ideal conditions.

Kirk Langstrom | Justice League: Gods and Monsters

[godsandbats]

((OOC: Please see here for content warnings))

Arrival:

The last time Kirk was in a hospital was over 10 years ago when was a dying man. So to suddenly wake up in another hospital with no memory of how he got there puts him on edge. Aurora's explanation doesn't help with matters and he quickly realizes through his natural infrared vision that she's just a projection.

He stays long enough to hear her explanation but once he assess that there's not much he can do in the room, he steps out to the hallway and towards the exit. He also sees that it's daylight so he's also quick to put back on his red goggles.

Pot Luck:

Kirk wasn't sure what to expect but it certainly wasn't an absolutely ridiculous cooking competition. He has no interest in participating but the companion bots were very insistent and Kirk's assuming this has to do with winning Echo's so-called approval. So he's forced to play along for now.

Trying to make a simple noodle soup has yielded some strange results though as he could've sworn he put in ramen noodles before. But after lifting the pot lid, there's now... blood sausage in there?

"Someone's trying to do me a favor," He says dryly.

Wildcard:

((OOC: Got something else in mind? Hit me up! My contact info is in this journal's profile))

Potluck

[sonofzod]

[ One of these days, Hernan will learn to leave these types of things alone. The food was just as likely to turn him inside out than satisfy any sort of hunger.

But he's here anyway, inspecting each of the meals to see if there's something that might be more appealing than Etraya's standard fare. When he happens upon Kirk's station, he stops and smiles. He definitely knows that dry tone. ]

You're late, Kirk.

[arach_kid]

Arrival

[Being stuck on another world and having to save the universe was an old, familiar tune to everyone's favorite mall-crawling wall-crawler.]

[He wasn't sure he bought the idea that there was no alternative. He could totally believe that they believed that, but just 'cause everyone said something couldn't be done didn't mean it actually couldn't be done.]

[That was a problem for future Spider-Boy to handle, though. Current Spider-Boy needed to get a better idea of what was going on. He heads out into the lobby...and pauses.]

Okay, I've been in more situations like this than I really can be bothered to count, but getting craft services is a new one.

Potluck

[...well, this explained why there was a craft services table.]

[If this was just reality television with the prize being your universe not getting blown up he might be tempted to take a page out of Castle's book and shoot someone. He wouldn't, but the temptation was there.]

[The good news is, until he could figure out what was actually going on, he could play this role to the hilt.]

So, I'm gonna be making fettucine alfredo from scratch. Simple but delicious.

[Making the dough goes fine. He even manages to end up with non-screaming eggs. It's when it's actually time to run the dough through the pasta maker that things get a little hairy as the noodles start trying to mount an escape]

You gotta be kidding me. Don't let 'em get away!

Tummy ache survivor

[Spider-Boy, like a few others, is climbing the walls. Literally in his case. Gravity has always been more of a suggestion to him, and not one he takes seriously.]

Any of you fine folks know who dosed their food with caffeine pills?

Arrival

[godsandbats]

[Kirk has experience in saving whole cities and saving the whole world. It just comes with being a Justice League member. But suddenly being off-world and getting told about the multiverse is a whole other matter. Naturally, Kirk is still trying to get his bearings and more information before planning his next course of action]

You've been kidnapped before?

Myrrh | Fire Emblem: The Sacred Stones

[darklingwoods]

Arrival
[At least she has her dragonstone. She has nothing else in this strange, sterile place, not a waterskin, not a friend, but she has that.

She makes sure it's tucked safely away as she ventures out into the corridors. If she's here to save Magvel from destruction, anyone she meets could be a potential adversary, and she doesn't want anyone to know about it. Perhaps she ought to hide her wings as well, but... no, that she won't do. A human-looking girl would be a target. One that is a little more could be less so.

At the end of the hall she finds food. Myrrh picks up one of the small, mushroom-shaped cakes and looks at the metal urn that promises tea. She is hungry, and it smells good, but... can she trust it?

She wishes Saleh or Ephraim were here. But wishing is pointless. This responsibility has fallen onto her shoulders. That means she must do everything she can to keep herself alive and fight for the people of Magvel.]

Excuse me... [She holds up the muffin to the first person she sees.] Have you tried one of these, yet?

To A Dragon, Everything Is A Flambé

Um... I don't... I've never...

[The robot stares back at her with blank blue eyes. Myrrh looks down at the table and its array of ingredients--she knows that they all do turn into meals, and she has a surface-level understanding of how, but she's never been the person in the army who does the cooking.

After another moment of paralyzed indecision, she opens a box labeled spaghetti. It seems simple enough; put it in the water and boil it until it's soft, like laundry. For a few minutes, it seems to be going well; the noodles soften and collapse on themselves, into the pot, and then...

...Then they're coming out.]

Ahh! Stop! [She snatches up a pair of tongs and runs after it as it flops onto the floor, half-scuttling and half-oozing away.] Stop! I need you!

[She's so intent on the runaway pasta she might just barrel into a passerby.]

Tummy-ache

[Myrrh doesn't know what exactly is wrong. But something is. She doesn't know what it was from. The robot made her try one of everything. Actually, it didn't make her, but it was so pestering and persistent that it was easier just to take a nibble than to keep refusing it...

What was it? The gelatin with suspended vegetables and shellfish? The bread made with ranch dressing? The "snickerdoodle?"

She doesn't know. She doesn't know if knowing would help, either. She's curled into a ball in the corner, with both arms wrapped around her middle, trying to work out if her insides feel bad, or merely strange...]

...this was a mistake....

arrival;

[banworthy]

[ Vincent sits with his legs stretched out in the chair. He has his ankles crossed with a plate of muffins set on his lap. Tearing them in half, he appreciates the steam coming off them before biting the tops.

Opening his mouth, he makes "ah-ah-ah" noises to ease the heat in his mouth but overall enjoying himself.

Twisting at the voice, he glances over the shoulder to see someone holding a muffin out to him. His eyes drift to the wings and horns that she has. ]

No. [ He blatantly lies and holds his hand out. ] Are you offering that to me?