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Entry tags:
- !event,
- archer: ray gillette,
- archer: sterling archer,
- attack on titan: erwin smith,
- attack on titan: levi ackerman,
- bbc dracula: agatha van helsing,
- dc comics: bruce wayne,
- dceu: diana prince,
- fate/grand order: kiara sessyoin,
- fate/grand order: leonardo da vinci,
- ffxiv: takame kesi,
- good omens: aziraphale,
- good omens: crowley,
- great library: christopher wolfe,
- jjba: okuyasu nijimura,
- kipo: kipo oak,
- marvel comics: miguel o'hara,
- original character: daylight vis lornlit,
- original character: vasiliy y ardankin,
- persona 4: shinjiro aragaki,
- supernatural: dean winchester,
- tangled: cassandra,
- tangled: rapunzel,
- tasm: peter parker,
- the gifted: lorna dane,
- the last of us: ellie,
- the untamed: huaisang nie,
- undertale: papyrus,
- undertale: sans,
- world of warcraft: anduin wrynn,
- world of warcraft: wrathion
DECEMBER 2020 EVENT - PART 1
CHAPTER ONE, PART 1: A HOLLY JOLLY HOLIDAY
Do you hear what I hear?
DECEMBER 5th | A MYSTERIOUS VILLAGE | THE MAYOR HAS INVITED YOU...
DECEMBER 5th
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Don’t you hate to be the last to know? Out of the windows of your brand new homes, you spot families trotting along in their happy, nuclear units. Stores and restaurants have closed early—on main street, where jingle bells hang from every door, the only souls to be seen are heading toward the town hall, where wreaths hang around the stone lions’ necks. A stage, awash in string lighting, has been erected with three chairs sitting empty behind a podium. Policemen with their smiles and baby-blues stand guard before it; they too are not allowed beyond the velvet ropes. Twenty feet tall—near to reaching the tip-top of the clock tower—a mass is hidden by black tarps. This is the most guarded of all, ringed by no less than twelve junior policemen standing vigil around the clock. At sundown, you start to see what’s to come. As the crowd swells, bundled in their coats and scarves, the ladies with silk scarves drawn around their perfectly coiffed hairstyles, three figures take to the stage: |
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Chief of Police, Dale Harding, who must constantly slip away and bend his ear to listen to one of his boys, giving orders with long sighs, firm words, and grumbles as he takes his seat again. Occasionally one sees a flash of silver moving from his lapel up to his lips, but surely that must only be his policeman’s badge that he kisses, because he loves his town so very, very much! The Happy Homes Association—or at least, their junior representative. Her bright and shining pin of office sits hidden behind the tremendous fruit basket poised upon her lap, where green and scarlet cellophane cannot quite hide the fruitcake inside the way it does her name. How does she keep her teeth so white and her lipstick so clean and red? Subscribe to their newsletter and read Cathy’s Cosmetic Can-Dos! column to find out! |
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Mayor Phillip Clarke—well, Phil to his friends. He takes his place at the podium, his top hat inky black, leather gloves oiled and bright, and draws all the town’s breathless attention. He taps the microphone. Once—the crowd inhales—twice—their eyes shine as they look up—three times— “Gooooood evening, Santa Rosita!” The crowd goes wild as Clarke bellows. Eventually, he raises both arms and gestures for them to quiet down. “I want to thank each and every one of you for coming out, especially on a school night!” Like the admonishing parent, he wags a knowing finger at several teens in the crowd. “Believe you me, on a night like this, I know how tempting it is to stay home and curl up on the couch with a good book. And,” he adds with a wink to a woman in the front of the crowd, “maybe some of Margie's famous hot chocolate.” Laughter ripples through the crowd. Again, Clarke patiently waits until they’re finished before continuing, “But that's exactly what makes our little town so special. No matter the time, every day of the week there's always someone out there who will sacrifice something for the better of the community. Be it the energy to get this terrific tree set up—” he gestures to the tree, “—the patience to string twenty yards of lights up—which, I might add, have been generously donated by our pals at Honeybees—or even just time.” Clarke’s tone turns solemn, but his face remains fixed in a winning smile. “Santa Rosita isn't just a town. It's a family. Each and every one of you out here tonight is a valued member. Even all you new faces out there!” He points to several newcomers in the crowd in what might almost be an accusatory manner if not for the smile on his face. “Don't think I can't see you! Tonight, you have become part of that family. Santa Rosita is your home now. It's through our traditions that we endure, and it's my sincerest wish that you, all of you, will join together with us and help us keep them alive for years to come.” The crowd applauds, everyone turning to face the new families. As Harding takes a swig from a flask he pulls out of his pocket and the HHA representative continues to beam at the audience with her too-white smile, Clarke fully turns to the tree and pumps his fist in the air, riling the crowd back up. “And now, without further ado, let's RING. IN. THE HOLIDAYS!” |
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As his words come to a close, at last the tarp is pulled away—revealing twenty feet of pure, polished, brilliant... ...aluminium christmas tree. Quick as the busy bees they are, the Happy Homes Association is there to announce that you can buy both table-sized and home-use duplicates for your own homes! The cost is $8 for the little ones and $18.50 for the big trees—get your wallets ready! As the crowd stampedes toward their own tiny and/or six-foot silver replicas, the three figures on the stage are hurried away. The HHA representative presents their gift basket to the Mayor. He kisses her on both cheeks, rubbing his belly in anticipation of the deliciousness to come, and hurries on. Chief Harding takes the rear, casting back a sour look, and before you have a chance to see if the three could answer any questions, the stage is empty again. ...well, get in line! You want those trees too, don’t you? |
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A MYSTERIOUS VILLAGE
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The days are getting colder and the entire town seems to be getting into the holiday spirit, between the tree lighting ceremony and the decorations your neighbors are putting up. But something seems to want you to get into the Christmas spirit as well—you haven’t done anything out of the ordinary, but when you open the door, you’re met by a burst of frigid air carrying the scents of gingerbread and peppermint on it. Stepping through the door, you are not in Santa Rosita any more. Well, technically, you are; you’re just down by Rose Garden Park, before the Old Growth starts. But it’s not where you thought you were going, and it doesn’t resemble the normal streets of suburbia now. You’ve stepped into a charming Christmas village, packed with all sorts of fun winter activities and sights to see! The ground is covered in pure white snow that never seems to melt into slush, and the sounds of high, sweet jingle bells fill the air as a team of reindeer haul a sleigh past. Maybe that’s Santa’s sleigh they’re pulling? |
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As you walk into the village, a red pole demands your attention, placed in such a way that no one can miss it. A letter is attached to it: The people were smiling; there was nary a frown! They entered my village, all brimming with cheer And knew that quite soon, old St. Nick would be here There's skating and snowmen and light shows galore There's even a place to make wreaths for your door! But somewhere inside there's a mailbox to find And Santa may bring you what's most on your mind… As the letter suggests, the village is full of hustle and bustle. Santa’s elves—Robbies decked out in red and green costumes with matching tights and jingle bell boots—are everywhere, making sure that there’s always plenty of holiday treats available for visitors to eat and drink. The nearby pond is iced over and the elf manning the ice skate exchange station seems to be able to guess your perfect size with a glance, while reindeer racing courses have been set up encircling the village. All of the buildings and many of the trees have been lined with lights, warm and bright, and there are stations set up where visitors can make garlands or wreaths to take back with them to the real world. The real world? Yes, of course—that boring place with work and school and vacuuming! Though the door you initially walked through may have turned into a station for making gingerbread houses, you can hoof it back to your home in Shadyside at any time. The public library is just that way, past the baseball diamond! Any time you open a door, however, you run a risk of finding that it leads back to the village, where the elves are waiting to ensure you enjoy your visit. You can try to close the door and open it again, but who knows if your luck has changed? The organizers of the village seem to be most insistent that you come and enjoy yourself—flyers are all around town, stuffed in your mailbox, and pinned on bulletin boards. Though some signs on lampposts seem as though they’ve been torn down in a huff, you still can spot them on Main Street: “Visit Santa Rosita’s Very Own Christmas Village!” And visit it you will. |
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While the elves are happy to welcome visitors to their village, they also have to work. Christmas toys don’t build themselves, you know! The elves will point out Santa’s Workshop to you, where you can buy freshly made candy canes, charming ornaments for your new aluminum Christmas trees (you did buy one from the Happy Homes Association, didn’t you?), and other sundries and stocking stuffers. There’s even a German-style bar in the back serving hot chocolate and mulled wine—non-alcoholic, of course; this is a family event. Just outside of the workshop’s entrance is a mailbox, its post swirled red and white and wrapped in garlands. A small desk sits next to the mailbox with a stack of stationery, envelopes pre-addressed to Santa Claus at the North Pole, and pens on top. At the top of the stationery, beside cutesy illustrations of hippos and children missing their front teeth, are the words, “What I want most for Christmas is…” Why not write Santa a letter? What have you got to lose? |
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THE MAYOR HAS INVITED YOU...
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...to the annual Christmas gala, beginning at 4:00 pm sharp at Santa Rosita’s stately town hall!
The invitation appears in your mailbox with just enough time for you to gather all your family and go shopping, because you certainly want to look your best. You simply must. The who’s who of the town will be there, all wearing their finest velvet dresses and shined black shoes. Be warned that the dress code will be strictly enforced by the Happy Home Association—only red and green allowed, or else it simply isn’t festive. Men in bright red or green suits - women sporting taffeta skirts in complementing shades - pinned corsages and matching handbags - no detail left untouched! You wouldn’t want to be caught standing out from the crowd, would you? In the Mayor’s presence? That might be a bad idea. |
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But the holidays do get the better of us sometimes, don’t they? The HHA understands, and if on the day of the party you have found yourself without a red or green garment, they have some loaners to wear. If you’ll simply follow Mrs. Jones down to the coat room, she can show you some options.
Tables are laid out with food and drink aplenty. Even the sandwich loaf has made its effort to match the decor, as red poinsettias and holly berries dot the windows (careful children—they’re poisonous) and rich green pines occupy every corner. Move outside of the room and you’ll find nothing more than locked and darkened offices, with the occasional policemen and night guards shaking their fingers at you to go back and enjoy the party. This is a night to be merry and drink some mocktails, not to go through the filing! Up by the fine wood paneling and brilliant metal tree stands the mayor himself. Looking dashing as Santa Claus, a cluster of parents flock nearby beaming as their child gets their photo taken with Mayor Clarke! That’s certainly going in the Christmas newsletter! Each of them has a little present—perfectly wrapped, just see Grandma’s Gift Wrapping Guide in this month’s HHA newsletter—to give to the Mayor for all his hard work this year. You didn’t think that stack of presents by Santa’s chair was for him to pass out, did you? |
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Between music sets (graciously played by the Frederick Loren High School marching band), the Mayor stands—the hall falls silent, all the little cups and plates still in jolly hands. He has a speech to give you all, you fine citizens, faces old and new: “Ho-ho-hi there, Santa Rosita! And how are we enjoying ourselves tonight? I see some of our new families were able to make it out tonight—is that Richard O’Reilly and the missus?” Using a hand to shade his eyes, Clarke squints into the throng of townspeople. “And Jim Astin with Lucy and little Susie! Wow. Isn’t that something?” In the back of the room, Chief Harding pours himself a glass of punch, takes a sip, then reaches into his suit jacket for his flask. |
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“Now, in my house,” Clarke continues, “we have a rule not to open any presents until Christmas Day, but with all the ones I've gotten tonight, it's just too darn tempting.” Reaching down, he takes a box from the pile of gifts at his feet. “I think this one's a tackle box, and I'm pretty sure this—” he reaches down for another smaller box, “—is that electric razor I’ve had my eye on.” He shakes the box, chuckling, as the rest of the crowd joins him. “But let's get serious for a moment.” Clarke’s expression turns thoughtful. “Although getting a truckload of Christmas presents is swell, do you want to know what the greatest gift you've given me is?” He pauses performatively, waiting for an answer from the crowd that never comes. “The greatest gift you've all given me... is letting me serve you.” In the back, Harding ditches the punch cup and just drinks straight from the flask. “I'm honored to be here with you all tonight,” Clarke continues proudly, “just I am honored to be able to wake up every morning, look in the mirror and tell myself that I... am your mayor. Which is why I want to give something back to you. How many of you have already visited Santa's little village?” There’s a round of cheering in the front of the audience from the many children in attendance with their parents. Clarke opens his arms wide. “My idea! I decided that if I can't bring Santa Rosita to the North Pole, I'm going to bring the North Pole to Santa Rosita. Enjoy yourselves! Saint Nick's got a lot of work to do before Christmas. So be good, don’t pout, and for goodness sake—have fun!” The clapping threatens to take down the garlands hung from chandeliers. ”A fine orator!” “Reminds me of the war, when we heard Churchill over the radio. Why, Clarke gives him a run for his money, ha ha ha!” A delightful HHA elf comes to replenish the pickle tree on the appetizer table, and the covers of Bing Crosby carry you away into the night. Remember to stay until 9:00 pm, when the Santa Rosita Children’s Choir will start caroling! |
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OOC INFO
Welcome to the first part of the event! You can use this entry to top-level for the event, but feel free to use the log and network communities as well.
A few things to keep in mind: Firstly, there is no return portal back into town once your character is teleported into the Christmas village. They will have to walk back on foot or get lucky and catch a ride from a helpful citizen.
Secondly, please be mindful of how your character interacts with the setting. While characters are welcome to explore the town and ask questions, Santa Rosita is still a happy little suburb in the 1960s, where appearances matter and acting too out of line from commonly accepted societal norms can come with their own unique consequences. We do not intend to punish players for their curiosity, but be aware that the townsfolk may not be so understanding of wanton disrespect for their ways!
And thirdly, the NPCs will not be available for interactions. At the party, Harding will leave early and Clarke will leave to handle other business. Santa does have a schedule to keep, after all.
Any questions can go in our FAQ thread below. Try to check and see if your question has already been answered on the plotting thread first here.
Remember--Part 2 of this event is coming December 15th!
A few things to keep in mind: Firstly, there is no return portal back into town once your character is teleported into the Christmas village. They will have to walk back on foot or get lucky and catch a ride from a helpful citizen.
Secondly, please be mindful of how your character interacts with the setting. While characters are welcome to explore the town and ask questions, Santa Rosita is still a happy little suburb in the 1960s, where appearances matter and acting too out of line from commonly accepted societal norms can come with their own unique consequences. We do not intend to punish players for their curiosity, but be aware that the townsfolk may not be so understanding of wanton disrespect for their ways!
And thirdly, the NPCs will not be available for interactions. At the party, Harding will leave early and Clarke will leave to handle other business. Santa does have a schedule to keep, after all.
Any questions can go in our FAQ thread below. Try to check and see if your question has already been answered on the plotting thread first here.
Remember--Part 2 of this event is coming December 15th!
obligatory shopping montage (for ray)
There's a gala to prepare for, after all.
He suggests to meet around three in the afternoon at the department store, a good a place as any to start, and turns up there... roughly on time. Only a few minutes late; he still hasn't gotten the hang of not being able to drive at horrendous speeds. He's dressed a little more Katharine Hepburn today, and gives Ray a little wave when he spots him.]
Hey, sorry, turns out parking's a nightmare this time of day. Something about the kids getting out of school, I've no clue.
[Other things he's never had to worry about: finding parking. Being human is terrible.]
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So, in some ways, this place almost feels like an improvement to his old life so far, though of course in others it will almost certainly prove to be a nightmare. (Then again, his regular life isn't not often a nightmare as well, so...?)
Ray holds his hand up in a static wave when he see Crowley walking up, smiling and shaking his head. ]
Oh please, it's fine. So long as we miss the worst of the Christmas crowds I could stay here all day. Or at least until my legs give out. [ Which is less funny once he says it out loud, but... whatever. ] But are they serious with this 'only red and green' shit? Like what is that?
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[There's so much drama in him for a moment, he even drops his shoulders as if being weighed down by how terrible the prospect of Christmas shopping is, but he's miraculously bounced back by the time he's at Ray's side. Being in a good mood always tends to make him more of a drama queen.]
That is prood these people are properly mad, or are actually here to torture us and have gotten creative about it. I reckon it's a crime to make me wear colours.
[This whole thing is obviously a slight against them, specifically.]
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Besides, he has to save up all his bitterness for Valentine's Day. ]
Oh I'm all for color, don't get me wrong, but who's ever seen a red or green suit that didn't look like somethin' out of a Goddamn musical? No offense to musicals, of course... [ He shakes his head. ] I should've been a drag queen-- at least you'll actually have some attractive options.
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Nothing saying you couldn't show up in a dress. [A little teasingly, since he knows full well that most humans get rather hung up on their gendered clothing.] There's always Bowie, he wore a few red suits and made 'em look good. Might only work if you've got the same alien twink vibes as he did, though.
[Unfortunately, Ray does not have alien twink vibes.]
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Very funny. Like I got the figure for it. [ Ray may be partial to pushing gender boundaries in clothing where he can, but he knows he can't pull off a dress. ] So instead I get to look like an oversized Elf on the Shelf.
[ He sighs, long suffering, hand gesturing out restlessly with resignation. It'll be fine, probably, something in a forest- or olive-green shade (or maybe even a burgundy) could look sharp enough, but that doesn't mean the limitation is any less irritating. ]
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[He gives him a pat on the arm anyway in slightly condescending reassurance, because he's something of a bastard.
He briefly considers taking Ray's arm, feeling playful, but with the cane he doesn't want to potentially put him off balance, so he just gestures him towards the department store entrance so they can head that way.]
Bet you could pull off a darker shade, wouldn't look too much like an elf threw up on you.
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Well I hope so. Normally around this time of year I'd probably go for something in a brown or maybe a navy, if I wanted more than your standard black, but... [ A sigh. ] We'll just see what they even have.
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Aren't you bold, wearing navy. [He's only teasing, since it'd be pretty hypocritical for someone who only wears black to talk shit about anyone else's neutral color choices. Although he has been branching out slightly here, because he can't afford a complete wardrobe overhaul and has to make do with the decent pieces he got saddled with.] Want to start with menswear? I've not decided yet which way I'll go, really. Been a while since I've bought a new suit, could be fun.
[Usually he just makes them himself.]
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[ Laughable, truly, although Ray is in fact rather fond of neutrals. Don't judge him, especially when he can't afford to overhaul (or supplement) his wardrobe yet either. ]
You think you might show up in a suit? [ He raises an eyebrow. ] What will your husband think?
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[This is privately amusing to him, considering Aziraphale's propensity towards both cream and linen, regardless of season.
Which, speak of the devil.]
My husband doesn't get to have an opinion about my clothes. Not that he'd give a shit, he's just as used to me being a bloke.
[They had, briefly, tried to play at not knowing each other, but it had become obvious fairly quickly that no one was going to buy it.]
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[ Though maybe it wouldn't be too cold during a California winter, Ray supposes. Not that he plans on finding out.
Smirking vaguely, Ray raises an eyebrow, debating making a comment but not entirely sure what comment. Everything that immediately comes to mind still sounds too bitterly jealous, and maybe he is just a bit, but of the concept and not the person, obviously. Is he just not twinky enough to be eligible for a government(?)-assigned husband of his own? Is that it?? ]
Okay then, what would the neighbors think?
[ His tone is dry, though, obviously sarcastic as he rolls his eyes. ]
But you'll have more options if you stick with dresses-- or, maybe somethin' in a nice pantsuit? Do they make those yet?
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Oh, please, what sort of — [Demon. But he has to swerve at the last second when he realizes he isn't talking to someone who knows what he is.] — queer would I be if I didn't cause a little uproar with the neighbours?
[In all honesty, he tends to skirt under the radar when it comes to that sort of business, because it's easy to do when he can divert people's attention and make them believe anything he wants them to, but he is used to causing problems on purpose, so this isn't too far off. And he's not worried about it, really, despite the sixties attitudes overall, everyone has been... surprisingly chill.]
And I think pantsuit were more the eighties, with those awful shoulder pads. Not worried about me showing you up if we both wear suits, are you?
[He's so rude.]
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That's between you and your own inner demons to work out.
[ He says it merrily, breezy, already looking at the various multi-colored offerings, but brushing off the remark with a dismissive flap of his wrist. ]
And please, who'm I trying to impress? It'll be enough of a miracle if I can just find a stiff drink tonight.
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But he also makes the decision to steer away from suits for now. It's been a long time since there's been anyone in his life he could call a friend — Leonardo might've been the last, several centuries ago — but he likes Ray, and they get along, and isn't going to fuck it up by bringing unnecessary jealousy into the mix.]
You never know, maybe a few more handsome gay blokes were kidnapped and you've just not run into them yet.
[He wanders off slightly to where the ties turn to bowties, not far enough that he's out of ear shot, he's just scrutinizing the patterns, wondering if he ought to buy some for Aziraphale.]
What's your type? I can always point someone your way.
[His grin suggests he's teasing, but in a friendly way, rather than an unkind one.]
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[ For a moment he's prepared to be dismissive again, but then Ray lets him actually consider the question. Crowley could be right, after all, and any other gay man stuck in this town is bound to feel as lonely and frustrated as Ray himself does (assuming that man didn't also luck out into getting paired with a husband, that is).
What is Ray's type? In practice it's usually just a man who says "yes," but in theory... ]
I like a man who knows what he's doin'. He's got authority, confidence, is obviously rugged as all get out... [ Hm. ] Outdoorsy, well-traveled...
[ Ray keeps thinking of more points to add, but for now stops himself there before it starts getting too specific, or worse, too explicit. God, he's so horny these days...
He examines a line of smooth silk ties a bit wistfully, knowing he can't afford anything that nice yet but still enjoying the way it feels against his fingers. ]
Ideally single, though that's not a deal breaker.
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Well, now I know why you've not hit on me. No one's ever accused me of being outdoorsy.
[He got rugged in the way that meant Barbarian when he first popped into Rome, having come fresh from Gaul, but that's neither here nor there. Also clearly that's the only thing stopping Ray from hitting on him, and not literally everything else about who Crowley is as a person.
Mostly, he's just being a shit.]
If Paul Bunyan shows up, though, I'll give him your number.
[Why is anyone friends with him.]
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[ To be fair though, those things pack quite a kick; Ray certainly doesn't imagine even he could shoot one right now, not with one arm, at least not easily and without a shit ton of practice first.
Also, it really is mostly the twink thing. Ray may not be chomping at the bit to admit it, but being a shithead or not-so-great person is far from a dealbreaker for him. Like at all. ]
Wasn't he like 100 feet tall? [ He'd roll his eyes (is he a joke to you, Crowley?) except honestly? Uh. Sploosh. ] I mean...
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[Never fired a shotgun, admittedly, and also that was when he hadn't been turned human. He's not anywhere near as strong or hardy as he should be, which is frustrating for a lot of reasons.]
Do I look like I know that much about American... things? [All he knows is "Paul Bunyan lumberjack" the rest is a mystery.] Anyway, don't be a coward.
[Fuck the 100 foot tall man, Ray. It'll probably be fine.]
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Sure you're not.
[ Like he's one to talk, but that's never stopped him before.
He continues casually, half playing along, although also mostly kind of serious when he says: ]
And look, I can already barely walk now as it is, so what the Hell do I got to lose anymore? [ Bring it on. ] What do you think?
[ Ray pulls at a deep red tie with silvery paisley details, not the most gorgeous thing ever or the most hideous, but certainly the right color and price point. ]
With like a dark green?
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If you're gonna go, might as well go on a giant dick.
[This is not now Crowley would like to die, but hey, each to their own.
He arches an eyebrow at the tie; he'd rather spend an hour in a room with Hastur than wear it, but it might not look terrible on Ray.]
Could work with a dark green, with a black shirt? White would make it pop too much.