[OPEN] i'm walking into spiderwebs

[cacophonish]

Who: Jeff & Open
What: October catch-all!
When: Any time in October (lmk if you want things set on a specific day for like idk timeline purposes)
Where: Calgona, Sports Deck, Chatterbox, Windjammer, and various places!
Warnings: A splash of existential dread and potential references to past drug use and intoxication.

Notes: Just some slice of life here as Jeff tries to adopt a new, healthy routine amidst ALL THE DESTRUCTION

I. let's get physical
Okay, so: they're trapped. They can't go home. They're... snapshots or bad copies or fragments of their true, original, whole selves... right? That's what Jeff thinks he gathered from all the info smarter, cleverer people dumped on everyone's laps.

Unless-- until they can find someplace else to go, this is all they've got. There's no going back. Jeff's been plucked from his shitty, fucked up life, and whatever happens in that shitty, fucked up life isn't his problem anymore. Which means this is... kind of a second chance. The circumstances might suck, but it's still a precious thing, right?

He'll be damned if he's going to piss it all away.

As the month unfolds, those who've seen Jeff on (or in the aftermath of) one of his benders may notice he's been staying away from the dwindling liquor supply. In its place, the bard's taken up some new hobbies, namely: exercise! It's finally time to put some muscle on that skinny frame.

Or, well. Make an attempt.

So lately, Jeff's been spending a lot of time at Calgona, attempting to lift the (remaining) weights, or work at some of the machines. He moves like he knows what he's supposed to be doing, like, in theory, but his body's too noodly to do what he wants.

In fact, there his arms go, giving out on him as he tries to bench a very modest amount of weight.

"Shit-- shit! Spotter, please!"

Ugh. Help.

Alternately, you can find him at the sports deck, running the track and looking totally miserable about it, even though no one's making him do this but himself. This is the worst part about trying new things: sucking at them. Why can't he just, like, start out as an expert!

If he spots some company, he'll flash a grimace of a smile. He's trying, really. "This is--" GASP GASP. "--soooo boring." Ugh. Hang on. He's gotta stop running and take a breather. "I feel like a hamster in a wheel! How does anyone do this without going nuts from boredom?"

At least when he's at the pool, Jeff seems to be in his element. Swimming! That's easy. Like, he grew up in a beach city, so he's practically part fish. Here's hoping no one trashes the pool while Friday or the janitor ghosts or whatever are on strike.

II. juke box hero
Well, it's Jeff. He's a bard. Any day, at any given time, there's a good chance he's doing something musical. Lately, like just about every night, you can find him at Chatterbox for karaoke hour. He's really trying to expand his horizons here, picking unfamiliar songs from the future and just going with it.

Is it time for Jeff to discover Britney Spears? You know it.

Come up and sing with him! It's bound to be a magical experience.

No. Really. It's magical. He's going to be doing some magic. Nothing big, just little tricks while he sings. Some light, playful telekinesis, a bit of conjuring of fairy lights, little things like that. Those who can sense magic may notice a constant buzz of it when he sings, subtler spells being cast-- or attempted, anyway, as Jeff toys with some magic he hasn't had as much opportunity to feel out on the ship. (Clairvoyance and related magic, mostly.)

Feel free to ask him about it!

Other times, you can catch Jeff alternating between singing and jotting down notes (and lyrics) in just about any public space on the ship. If you're not busy, he may come up to you, practically bouncing with Golden Retriever energy.

"Hey! What's up? How's it going-- you busy? I'm trying to work on a new spell, but, uh..." Well, this is awkward. "I kinda need a guinea pig." He wrinkles his nose. "Sorry. That sounded bad, didn't it. I just mean-- if you don't mind-- I could use someone to test this spell on. Respectfully and responsibly."

III. feed my frankenstein
Since the buffet is the only place left with an endless supply of food, Jeff's obviously going to be stopping by there for his meals (along with everybody else???). All this new physical activity's really done a number on his appetite, okay, and he feels like a bottomless pit.

So this is the 'Jeff is going to invite himself to your table' prompt. Hope you weren't hoping to eat in silence, because here he comes with a plate piled high with grilled chicken salad and bread rolls.

Prepare for small talk and idle chitchat! Especially if you're a loner type. Jeff loves being friendly at loners.

Anyway, here's some examples of conversation starters.

"You ever wonder if the Captain's just really, really lost but too stubborn to ask for directions?"

Or:

"Do you think the ghosts are on strike? Or maybe the Captain decided to stop being a dick and sent them on vacation..."

Or:

"So... Who do you think's going to be the first one to, like, go all psycho cannibal if we completely run out of food here?"

Or:

"Man, I was gonna go for a swim today, but some asshole threw a bunch of deck chairs in the water." He folds his arms on the table and drops his head with a whine. "Why would someone do that?"

And wildcard, and so on. Choose your own conversational adventure.

IV. wildcard
[ hit me with whatever you want, i'm open to everything. you can reach me at weeyotch / weeyotch#8200 to hash out any specifics! ]

Comments

Buffet time

[theweakhavepurpose]

Of course he's eating, Deputy Pratt is always eating. He keeps eating and he never feels full, never feels satisfied, and still looks emaciated like he did under the care of Jacob Seed. He isn't sure what the problem is, there's plenty of food and it's not like he does anything to burn off the ten thousand calories of mashed potatoes he eats. But that's one of those existential crisis issues he's not prepared to deal with.

He has a few plates around him, garlic bread, french fries, eggplant parmesan, mac and cheese, not a piece of meat in sight.

Which is why the question about who might go psycho cannibal catches him completely off guard. He visibly recoils and stares, wide eyed, holding his fork with white knuckles. "Uhhhh."

Eloquent.

He forcibly sets the fork down, looks around them at the various other people sitting at their tables and unaware of the internal screaming Pratt is doing right now. He's fine, he's cool, he can handle this.

"Well. Guess that depends how long we're out of food for uhm, most people can only go about six days and even then your body starts eating itself and it fucking hurts." For how skinny he is he looks like he might know firsthand. "But uhm."

That isn't what he asked Deputy. Go on then. Answer the man. Who would be the first?

Pratt glares nervously over his shoulder at a hallucination that Jeff can't see or hear. And he knows isn't real, Jacob Seed is dead, but Pratt still can't fully ignore him, and glaring at him never works.

"Well. Probably me."

[cacophonish]

Oh. Shit. Did he just strike a nerve? Jeff winces a little, sympathetically, though it could just as easily be read as secondhand embarrassment for Pratt and all his nervous fumbling.

"Oh. Um. Sorry, man, it was... I was just making a dumb joke."

Though that answer's definitely a surprise. Jeff lifts his brows, looking at Pratt, then down at spread of food.

"Aren't you vegetarian?"

[theweakhavepurpose]

"Yeah. I mean I am now. You know.. for a reason." A reason he doesn't really want to expand upon but given the context of their conversation is probably sorta obvious.

"And I really want to eat those crab legs. They look so fucking good, and the not-fish seafood in Montana where I'm from suuuuucks. But like.. even that kinda skeeves me out." A huff. Man he just wants to eat bbq ribs again, this sucks. "Lame that the dining room isn't doing food anymore though. They did this real fancy vegetarian minestrone soup with these little noodles in it. It was great."

Been a week and he's already missing other foods.

let's get physical physical

[inhairently]

Steve probably shouldn't be anywhere in the vicinity of weights, if we're being honest. The wounds on his abdomen are a lot better than they were a month ago but they're still not great, which means lifting is an objectively terrible idea. He's being good, though. Smart. He hasn't touched any of the equipment yet even if he's been eyeing it with interest. For now he's just here to hang out.

Lucky for Jeff, too, because it means when he calls out for a spotter Steve is there in a flash to catch the weight and help lift it back up onto the frame.

"You're starting with too much," he says, staring down at Jeff with an unimpressed look. "You'll kill yourself doing that."

[cacophonish]

Did he just underestimate how heavy this would be, or did he completely overestimate how much he can lift? Either way, this is so embarrassing, and while Jeff's grateful for the assist, all he can do is meet that unimpressed look and pull an exaggerated one of his own.

That's how you look right now, Steve!

Jeff sits up, his arms feeling like they're both rubbery and on fire at the same time.

"Yeah, well, if I kill myself, I'll just come back," he points out lightly, before making an... attempt at flexing. "Maybe I'll actually come back with some muscle, who knows."

Fat chance.

[inhairently]

"If you come back at all," Steve says flatly.

The ship is kinda failing, after all. Not like they can depend on all the usual functions to just like... you know, keep functioning. Who's to say it doesn't start with no more restaurants and end with no more resurrections?

"Start with the smaller weights," he says, gesturing towards the rack of smaller dumbbells against the far wall. "Work your way up. And remember it takes time."

II Karaoke

[konpeito_aji]

"Okay," Nobunaga nods in response to being a guinea pig. It's a dubious honor Jeff, Nobunaga would normally completely freak out at people doing magic on him, but Jeff is the one person who he's mostly come around to on the idea of 'Magic isn't out to get me,' so he can tolerate it. And he's a little curious. Somehow. "Do I need to do anything?"

[cacophonish]

Jeff breaks into a bright smile as Nobunaga easily agrees to being his guinea pig. It's so exciting when he meets people who are just willing to go with it where magic's concerned. It either shows terrible recklessness or trust-- or both!-- and so now he's gotta make sure not to totally screw up and make the guy regret it or anything.

"All right! And no, nah, all you have to do is sit back and listen." A beat. "Wait. I should probably brief you first, right?" Jeff claps his hands together. "How do you feel about... emotional magic? Like... happy, sad-- however you want to feel." He holds up a hand. "We don't have to if you don't want. I know it can make people kind of... squeamish?"

[ ooc: and just for full disclosure, Jeff's talking about the Emotional Manipulation / Intoxication spell on his info page, but won't do it without (ic and ooc) permission. He'll offer to practice a Clairvoyance spell if the answer's no! ]

[konpeito_aji]

"Open," Nobunaga says cautiously. He'd so prefer it to Clairvoyance he's a weirdo like that. "And... honestly very curious. I'm familiar with the base principle, I think. You said it's like regular music, but enhanced, right?" Nobunaga is probably underestimating his own emotional response or capacity. However, the idea that his heart had been hardened so much from war and hatred, leading him to embrace the idea of losing his soul to becoming a Demon King, the Demon King of 6th Heaven - Oda underestimates his own emotions. Music has always been very emotional for him, so he's curious about the possibilities of it becoming even more so.

iii. hungry hungry hippos

[broshaw]

The buffet has plenty of variety, and Sharky's piled a bunch of random shit on his plates. He's trying to sample everything, see what's gonna be good for the long term and what should be left to the rest of the passengers.

It's really weird, though, having everywhere else shut down. Has that ever happened before? He's obviously got no fuckin' clue.

Jeff plops himself down at Sharky's table and barely earns a second glance as he starts making a big stink about the deck chairs in the pool. Not until he's done stacking all of his sides on top of his burger. He's calling it the all-you-can-eat combo.

"Yeah, real dick move, right?" He rolls his eyes and takes a massive bite, then just... talks through the mouthful. "Too bad the ghosts ain't doin' anything about it. What are ya gonna do, though? Hunt the dude who did it down and force him to clean up his mess?"

[cacophonish]

Jeff watches Sharky somehow get his mouth all up on that massive burger, and, okay, he's kind of impressed! Suddenly, his salad seems so lame and inconsequential in comparison. He shovels an almost sullen forkful of lettuce and chicken into his mouth.

"Oh, I doubt he'd listen to someone like me." He tilts his head curiously. "How would you do it? Force a guy like that to clean up, I mean. If, you know, you were in my shoes."

[broshaw]

That's what Jeff gets for trying to be healthy for even two seconds. Fuck that, it's burgers and booze all the way!

"Uhhhhhh... I guuuuess I'm supposed ta ask real nicely." That feels like a reasonable response to someone carelessly ruining the pool experience for the rest of them. "I don't got fancy magics like you do. Just a big, beefcake bod."

Absolutely flexes one arm to show off, because that's what he has! 6 feet and 200-some pounds of mass, but not a single magic power to go with.

"So I guess I could punch him a couple'a times, until he gave up... But like, I don't really use the pool, so why the fuck would I bother?" He picks up a fry, points it at Jeff, then chomps down on it. "Now, if he'd fucked with the hot tub..."

Feed my Frankenstein-adjacent

[midnightroads]

There's a moment where Bash spots Jeff from across the room with his plate and he stops. And he stares.

Grilled chicken salad. Grilled chicken salad? Grilled chicken salad?

No, that's. Huh. That doesn't make sense. Bash approaches, looking confused and curious. "Hey, darling..."

[cacophonish]

"Hey, babe." Jeff takes a moment to just, you know, take Bash in. He always appreciates the view. But... then he catches that confused expression, and his own brows furrow with concern. "What's up?"

[midnightroads]

"You tell me, babe. What's up with you?" Right, something smells funny here, and it's not the tuna tetrazzini over on the buffet line, but he's not going to call it out, in case there's Something Wrong. He's not...he isn't s...

Look, he knows Jeff.

the buffet~

[busball]

Klaus is unapologetically seated at the table, holding a waffle in his hands with ice cream dripping down the sides and his hands at the same time. There's a runaway bit of ice cream going down his arm, but he's paused as he looks at whoever it is that's just sat down next to him. Sure he's seen him at the disco thing, he thinks...but he doesn't know him. Oh well. Company is fine!

"I've been kind of wondering that myself. I doubt he's the type to ask for directions. Just thinks he knows everything." He pauses to lick ice cream off his arm before going back to trying to eat his waffle-ice cream concoction.

"But who knows, right?"

[cacophonish]

Jeff takes a moment to watch as that ice cream drips down... and down...

Man, suddenly he wants ice cream.

Anyway! Jeff sort of knows Klaus. Not by name or anything, but by sight, in passing. They hit some of the same haunts, and he seems like a cool guy, so a friendly conversation is long overdue.

Only now he can't stop staring at the trail of ice cream going down the guy's arm-- oh there it goes. No need to stare anymore! Jeff snaps out of it.

"Yeah, major god complex, right? He really just needs to park at a cosmic gas station and ask for directions." Jeff pokes at his (suddenly very depressing salad) with a fork. "I wonder what's going on with him now. I mean, with all the--" He waves his fork at the ceiling, and the general... ship as a concept. "--ghost strike or whatever. What if they pulled a mutiny?"

Juke box hero

[neverleave]

Natsuno is at Photos at Sea, browsing the recent additions. Every time he's involved in something particularly violent or embarrassing, new pictures pop up complete with tacky frames, and this month is no different.

He's removing a photo of himself (covered in blood, stumbling out of a morgue cabinet) when Jeff approaches him. Ah, the whiner from laser tag. Natsuno never got his name.

"...depends. Is it going to kill me or cut my limbs off?"

[cacophonish]

Okay, well, now Jeff has to see that picture he's trying to hide. Don't mind him as he cranes his neck to try and get a peek. He's just curious! If Natsuno'd left it alone, he probably wouldn't even have noticed it...

When he asks his question, though, Jeff looks properly horrified. "No! I couldn't-- I mean, I wouldn't, even if I could. That's fucked up, man."

♫ juke box hero

[theotherright]

Arthur made his own bed, really, because he approached Jeff first: he knows the sound of someone composing and he was fascinated to hear it here. And so he has nobody to blame but himself if he now gets roped into--

"A spell? I, er..."

Arthur would almost certainly have seen Jeff make fancy lights and whatnot before now, except that, well, you know. So it's been easy to forget that he is, in fact, very much a wizard of some sort.

"Well, I, what-- what sort of spell?"

Move quickly, Jeff! If you catch him off guard you can rope him into pretty much anything!

[cacophonish]

That's right, Arthur. Now you've learned your lesson: approach Jeff at your peril! Magic, singing, dancing, and any number of tomfoolery is bound to follow.

"It's nothing too crazy--" Well, okay, 'crazy' is totally relative. "--I'm just trying to tweak this spell I used to do back home. I used to get people all riled up-- it was totally wild-- but I'm kind of looking to do... the opposite?" He smiles reassuringly-- not that Arthur can see that, but okay, he'll try to convey that with his voice.

"Think of it like magical stress relief."

[ c&ping because lazy: just for full disclosure, Jeff's talking about the Emotional Manipulation / Intoxication spell on his info page, but won't do it without (ic and ooc) permission. He'll offer to practice a Clairvoyance spell if the answer's no! ]

calgona

[pointofhonoria]

The woman that comes over to help lift the weight back up onto the frame is average height, but built pretty damn solidly. She covers so much skin even whilst working out that you can't get a truly accurate read on how strong she is, but you can certainly tell that much.

"Easy there." She helps get the thing settled and just looks down at Jeff for a moment with a brow raised. "Probably should've come in with a spotter, if you're dropping weights like that."

[cacophonish]

Jeff lets out a relieved breath as the woman swoops in with the assist, even if he's... kind of embarrassed to need the help at all. Lifting weights is harder than he thought it'd be!

"Thanks..." He flashes a chagrined smile up at her. It looks a little pained, but that's only because he totally made an idiot of himself. "This is pretty much my first time, so I didn't, uh..." He winces. "There's a lot of rules and stuff I don't know about. It's way more complicated than I thought!"

Sports Deck

[makesomedeals]

Max has met Klaus and he's about to make that everyone else's problem, especially Jeff. The man vanishes and then comes back and now there's three drunken idiots. Max will not stand for that.

He tries all the bars first stalking through them before he gives up and walks through the whole of the ship to the sports deck and....

"What are you doing?" His voice completely confused, all the fury subsiding for a moment as he watches Jeff run laps. Jeff. This is Jeff. Running laps.

Max looks all around like this is suddenly some sort of trap. "Is there something wrong with the water again?"

[cacophonish]

Jeff bounds over to Max with a cheery wave, though... hang on. He needs a moment to catch his breath. God, his cardio sucks.

Just--

A little longer--

Breeeaaaathe....

Okay.

"I'm just-- you know, exercising?" He blinks innocently. (God, is this guy seriously such a mess that exercising and eating a normal fucking meal are huge red flags??) "What's up?"