[ Drabble ORP ] [New Years AU] Ordinary Citizens

[Zoobey]

IT IS DECEMBER 31st, 2014.

Hunters do not exist. Neither does Fear, neither does Halloween. This is reality, and this is life, cruel, simple, and beautiful. Nothing is special

You are not special. And that is what you expect.

It is December 31st, 2014, and it will be one more year as your promise as always to be something you aren't quite yet.

OOC

Happy new years eve! In the tradition of what could have been ever year for Hunters, this is a drabble AU showcasing what could have been if your Hunter was not a Hunter but just someone quite ordinary. Think of them as if they lived in the irl world! A student, a police officer, a technician, a full time Tumblr blogger, welcome to the world of the ordinary.

The clock ticks soon, and your character experiences one more year being just themselves and nothing else.

Feel free to respond in drabble form to other people living in the same area as you. Once again these are basically civilian Hunters if they had lived their lives and never gotten recruited. Go ahead and post a [ Location ] [ TIME ] in the top in bold red of your post so people can decide if they are in the same area/ interacting/ etc etc. All rps happen exactly on new years eve, wherever it happened in the world, wherever they are. Feel free to use things like texts, phones, tumblrs, mmos, anything to write a little snippet of their new years experience.

And always, have a happy new year. Hey chin up, it isn't the end of the world.... yet

Post bonus: +2 rp points for posting over 400 words cumulatively per character

 

[Zoobey]

[ Washington Coast ] [ 11: 55 PM PST ]


"Will you quit that?"

He realizes he's been whistling O Christmas Tree for the last two hours. It's snowing now, and there's nobody on the road, maybe because it is dark, or maybe because everything is more white than black.

A sign passes them, and he leans into the drivers seat, squinting to get a better look. SEATTLE - 100 MILES. It's going to be a long drive down.

It's then that he realizes he's stopped whistling and the other passenger in the car has finally turned around to attempt to catch any remaining semblance of sleep. He starts whistling again.

Bloodshot eyes stare at him and they don't say anything but he knows they contain a sort of spite reserved only for those who deserved it. He chuckles despite himself, adjusts his rear view mirror, and flashes himself a smile.

"Don't flatter yourself." The passenger on the seat rolls down the window, just half an inch, the loud whoosh of snow, of highway and sleet passing them by. "I only agreed because nobody else was going and only a goddamn lunatic would drive in this ******** here you are sitting in my car. With," he added, flashing himself another smile in the mirror, only because he knew his sole passenger could see it, "a goddamn lunatic."

Silence.

He pursed his lips together, tightening his hands around the wheel, just about ready to start whistling, maybe We Wish You a Merry Christmas or something loudly, just to see much he would piss his passenger - friend - off. Enjoyment was only good with a crowd, and the best enjoyment with the closest of friends. Said accomplice seemed comfortably reclined on their seat, eyes closed, sleeping that strange, extremely still way they did when in those rare moments, they actually seemed relaxed.

They drove this way in silence for around four minutes before his phone buzzed. He smiled.

"Happy new years Cael."

A single eye cracked open on the other side of the passenger seat. "Don't call me that Ben."  

[lizbot]

[ Lake’s Crossing Center, Nevada ] [ 11: 55 PM PST ]

A tall thin figure sits cross legged on the floor, drawing diagrams on the floor with her finger, nails short and ragged, chewed at the edges. Blonde hair obscures a face that could be pretty, if not for the dry cracked lips and glassy, mad sheen of her eyes.

Without the focus of Deus, without being found by a terrible man and even worse entities, Clarice Sinclaire lost herself.  

[kuropeco]

[ Detroit, Michigan ] [ 10:33 PM ]
( Running John's Bookstore )


Chance


He sat at the front counter with his legs up on the counter top, a book in his lap. Idly flipping through the pages, Chance finally gave up on actually reading and tossed it to the floor, tilting back so that the front two legs of his chair were off of the ground. The fireworks going off outside were mildly distracting; clearly there were people who had decided to get started on the festivities earlier than usual.

Linking his fingers together at the back of his head, he stared up at the ceiling, debating whether it would be worth it to go out, or if he should just stay put.

(Maybe he could go out, get a drink, and then go to bed. Or something.)  

[endejester]

[New Zealand: Aukland] [**Sorting this out**]

--WARNING -- basically trigger warning. Read on with some caution. ---





















He was bone weary, long hours splitting his time between the Restaurants and learning Ta Moko left him very little time to himself. He thought it very probable that that used to matter. Maybe once there were people who would have missed him at social occasions and friendly gatherings.

His feet hurt; there was a throbbing ache in them reminiscent of having someone casually and repeatedly crushing them with a sledgehammer. There was an ache in his spine like a fist pulling it slightly to one side. His shoulders felt like there were ice picks driven into the joints. A few of his co-workers, could he call them friends? A few of them had told him to stop trying to do so much in a day, like somehow he had a choice to turn that off when he got going. He smelled of old food and grease and it turned his stomach.

Why DID he push himself so hard, he wondered? It wasn’t like he got rewarded for the effort. The minor satisfaction of knowing that he’d gotten a lot done didn’t really measure up to the aches and pains he incurred, or the fact that people who did half the work at best got rewarded for minimal effort and a lack of caring at all.

He ran a hand through his hair, the blue streaks had been, and at least for a short time a source of pleasure, now they seemed limp and colorless like the rest of the world. He felt, trapped, going through a series of actions over and over again, putting on a smile he didn’t mean and somehow, people seemed to believe it. Weeks, months, years of this taught him that his own mood didn’t matter. Just put on a happy face’ and treat people who treated you like s**t to a smile and a ‘good attitude’ so you could scrape by.

The world was a locked room, a grey room with one door and no windows, there was no up, there was no down, there was only that one door, and it was locked. He didn’t even need to try the handle to know it, he just knew. That was his mood, his future, and his present.

He kicked free of his shoes and stripped off his shirt and headed into the bathroom. He nudged the hot water on, stuffed the plug into place and sat down on the toilet with a soft sigh as he watched the water run He got out of his jeans and Folded them up, setting them on the edge of the sink as the hot water steamed the mirror.

No… he really couldn’t do this for another year.

If the year had been just another terrible repeat of the one before… maybe, maybe he could have clawed through. But someone at work had uncovered that he wasn’t interested in JUST ladies, that he had a vested interest in men as well. It hadn’t gone over well. The last two weeks had turned into the normal horrors of work plus far too many questions about ‘how it worked’ and couldn’t he change. He liked to think that maybe he could have lived with that, but then they’d started telling customers.

Now his uncle knew.

He ran a ginger hand over the bruised ribs and touched light fingers to his split lip.

Soon the rest of his family would know.

He couldn’t afford to leave.

He didn’t know anywhere else he could turn… there was nowhere else to turn.

He sank into the tub with a soft breath and picked up what he’d set at the edge of the tub when the questions had started, picking at the blade he pried it open and let it lock into place, he pressed his thumb lightly against the blade just to test its sharpness.

“Happy New Year…”  

[The Semblance of Unity]

[ Lawton Oklahoma ][ 4:40 PM ]

Horace was not expecting the keys. And so (sadly), they slid over the car and plopped next to his feet. "s**t!" He crouched to scoop them up, shoving his hair behind one ear as he did so. "Good going, halfpint." Pey was, as usual, a graceful whirl of energy; Horace was a bit slower, a little steadier. But she made him feel like being wild. Grunting, he folded himself into the car and clicked the seat back. A car for ants. As he leaned over to yank the door shut, he felt his jeans tear again and snorted. Another tear made no difference when the pants were riddled with them anyway.

He grinned at her as he started the car and backed out of the driveway. (Horace always used his signal lights, though - he was reckless, maybe, but not that reckless.) He fancied he heard the startled shriek of Peyton's sister, but it could've been his imagination. As he skirted through a yellow light, his left hand snaked down to squeeze her thigh, sliding one thumb along the edge of her stockings. "Where to?" A red light loomed and he flicked on the radio and the sound of Hotel California filled the car. Eyeing her, he tuned it to some godawful country music, knowing she'd hate it.  

[Baneful]

[ Glasgow, Scotland ] [ 11:55PM ]

He could have been out counting down the bells with his mates down the pub but he'd wanted a quiet night in this year, he was still hungover from the Christmas binge and someone needed to feed the dugs. Instead he watched the trite fiddle players and cheesy Jackie Burd show on the telly and waited for the picture to switch tae the big cannon on Edinburgh castle.

Reid had ******** off tae America and left him here on his tod, it was work s**t but it felt like a free holiday. If he'd been here they'd probably have gone oot on the toon tae look for some burds, see what the local talent was ******** like. His old girlfriend was sleeping wae some knobhead fae castlemilk noo, he didn't give a ******** dropped his bottle of Sprite on the floor just as the countdown got rolling and bent to pick it up.

His bull terrier brought it to him instead, wagging his stump of a tail eagerly. He gave the dogs shark face a rough pat.

"Good boy Butch."

 

[Yayoi]

[Chicago, IL - Pinkies Bar] [11:55pm]

The bar was packed past capacity. It smelt like booze, tobacco and weed. Anyone not used to this environment would almost choke if they lingered inside for too long. But these people were all here to party. Drink, smoke and listen to the bands play.

Loud music, screaming vocals. No one would be able to hear anything for hours. And there was no place Momo would have rather been. While he own band wasn't on the list of bands to play she didn't care all too much. After Dizzy had died in the fire they really didn't get together all that much. But she could still enjoy the scene and maybe even scope out some new band mate potentials.

Crammed into a table with a group of her rowdy friends, the blue haired punk threw back shots and drinks one right after the other. That was the point of New Years right? Get drunk, have fun and maybe if you were lucky you'd find a good ******** for the night.

Next year could wait just a few minutes more. She was having too much fun in this current year. Well, maybe she would be having more if Dizzy were still alive and the Screaming Witches were still together but oh the ******** well. She would drink another drink for him, or perhaps another five. But she wouldn't drown herself in his memory or the memory of that night. Although the atmosphere of this place was eerily similar. Momo could help but shudder off the déjà vu with every other shot.

She shoved her tongue down someone's throat, not caring who it was or whether or not the clock had ticked over by this time. To be honest she probably would of been in the back of someone's car by now screwing whoever's brains out if they all weren't so packed into the bar.

Standing room was at a premium now as more people continued to filter in off the frozen street. The majority already drunk as they squeezed in, basically they were just looking for a place to be at this 'momentous' occasion. Occasionally a fight would break out, someone spilt someone else's drink or stepped on their new pair of Pumas. A rather large and drunk man knocked into the table she was sitting at, rattling the full and empty glasses. A couple gets and he was shoved back into the rabble as voices lifted to sing a long with lyrics to the current song playing that these drunken bastards could remember.

Glancing at the neon lit clock on the wall, Momo squinted to read the time. Well, she was sure that one the ball dropped someone would figure it out and they would all be hooting and hollering a slurred and drunken 'Happy New Year,'.  

[The Semblance of Unity]

[ Lawton Oklahoma ][ 4:42 PM ]

Her look of ire was perfect, almost as perfect as her adorable smirk. He swallowed his laugh, mostly, and tried to look innocent and beguiling. It probably wasn't working. "Maybe I did," His hand flew from her thigh to her wrist, stopping her right before she turned the dial. Peyton's wrist felt so thin in his hands, like a stiff breeze could break them, but he knew better. A pity that - the removal. Horace loved resting his hand on her thigh when they managed to borrow a car, or on her shoulder, or anywhere that was her.

red solo cup, I lift you up
it's time to parrrrty, let's have a parrrty

"Nooope. Driver picks the station, Pey. Unless you wanna pay the 'kiss tax'." His voice started off in a deliberately annoying tone and he shot her a bemused look. He knew a kiss tax was pretty silly, but hey, any excuse, right? Letting go of her wrist, he grinned at her. "One kiss is acceptable payment, but cheek kisses do not count."  

[Bittiface]

[ ??? - Louisiana ] [ 11:00pm ]

Otto stood front and centre on stage in a bar in the city. His band mates from college had all finished their test runs. They were the finishing act before the new year would begin.

Normally, Otto was on drums and singing back up vocals. However, after all the time spent getting over his stage fright playing in the back; he was ready to take the plunge and try lead singer. The best part was... he was actually excited for it. Nervous as Hell, but excited.

The last couple years had been amazing. He left home to go to college. He was taking music with a minor in the arts. He was making friends. He was far away from his stuffy and abusive family home.

Life was good for Otto Graves.

"Evenin', all." He called into the mic, causing the rowdy college aged crowd to cheer. "We're the last set of the night before 2014 ends."

More cheering. Everyone there was big on rock music. Totally their kind of crowd. Otto grinned widely.

"We are Sunset Divider. Happy New Year. 'Nuff talk. Let's do this s**t." The drummer timed them in, and the boy started playing a popular song cover. The crowd cheered when they recognized the riff. Today was about crowd pleasing. Getting them into the party mood. They could do their own songs in between.

It didn't matter. Slowly but surely, Otto was living his dream. The spot light was hot, the music was loud. Otto was smiling.  

[Grey Dragon]

[ Detroit, Michigan ] [ 10:38 PM ]


Oliver pushed open the door to the bookstore, a hesitant expression, eyes wide. Ever since he started university, there had been not nearly as much time for games. Lonely late nights were replaced with studious late nights. And with his most recent internship at the Henry Ford health system, there was just too much to learn to hunt monsters online.

"Um, I-I didn't think anyone was open this late," he said to the bored looking staff. Then he paused. "Y-you are open, right? A-at least, you looked open, i-if you aren't I can go..."

The boy hovered near the doorway, nervously waiting for an answer. It really was a tossup, when were book stores ever open this late, let alone on new years eve? Not everyone had a lifestyle that was as celebration-free as Oliver did, the fireworks already going on were evidence enough of that.

kuuropii

 

[Saliru]

[ California ] [ 9:30 PM ]
(Private Dorm Room)

s**t, it was getting late.

She looked back at her papers and then her phone. They were waiting on her. She neatly tucked her papers back into their respective medical books and stacked them carefully on top of each other. She stretched out and checked a small nearby bird cage for proper food and water. The small cockatiel inside chirped at her, eliciting a small smile out of the raven-haired woman. "I'll be back in the morning Callie," she assured the creature before watering a nearby orchid.

Then she grabbed her coat and wrapped her big plush green scarf around her throat. She checked her makeup in the mirror by her door. Passable.

She grabbed her purse and headed out into the surprisingly clear night. The fireworks should look amazing tonight and already a few were flashing in the distance prematurely.

She arrived at the small party and knocked. The door opened and she was greeted by a dear friend she had made during her first year. "Hey Rin! Glad you could get your nose out of a book long enough to make it."

Rin flashed a wide bright smile in reply, "well you don't become a doctor without a few sleepless nights."

She was enveloped by the clamor of people, bright colorful lights, and booming music. All things that used to terrify her, but now she felt she belonged.