Happy Exchange of Literature and Pamphlet (H.E.L.P.)

[peninhand]

Who: Everyone!
When: March 27th
Where: 107 Loomis Drive
What: The long-awaited Literature Club meeting! It is an open mingle post for everyone in the game to come and meet with each other in a safe place. Post your poem and play out the characters meeting & reading each others's poems in prompt I and/or II! This meet is a collaborative effort between Monika, Sayori and Pam. Monika's player wrote the Poem prompt, Pam's player wrote the first prompt and Sayori's player wrote the second prompt.
Warnings: Please tag your threads with any relevant content warnings if needed!


Your Poem (Prompt by Monika)
You've come! And you're not alone. It would seem quite a number of the poor souls trapped in this city have come to this meeting. That's a great occasion to meet new people, catch up with acquaintances and spend time with friends. Not only that, but Sayori and Pam have prepared lots of good things to eat and to relax. Amidst the horrors of this city, today is a day to relax and have fun.

But before that, do you remember what was the one requirement for you to come to this meeting? A poem! A little piece of your heart written on a paper, for you to show to anyone you meet today! Whether you've spent less than a minute scribbling something on a piece of paper, or half a day making the most beautiful poem ever, that's the perfect way to break ice!

And don't worry about your poem being "bad." That's not the point, is it? It's only a means for you to open a little bit of yourself you otherwise wouldn't... Even if you've done your best for no one to understand the meaning behind your poem!

(( Feel free to use this form to post your poem! This isn't a prompt in itself, just general guidelines for the poem. If you want to give your poem a little bit of extra personality, here's a list of web safe fonts! Just replace "FONT" with the font of your choice in the form below: ))

<i><span style="font-family:FONT;">YOUR POEM HERE</span></i>


I. Snacks and Cocktails (Prompt by Pam)
Pam has been planning a cocktail party to celebrate her tiki bar and meet new people for weeks. Combining it with Monika's meeting is just an easy no-brainer. All the normal folk of Santa Rosita will have received an invitation either mailed or hand delivered by Pam (A pretty blue card stock with an island, palm trees and a drink in a coconut) letting them know about the get together and the poetry/lit club. Pam just...may have forgotten to inform her family until the day of. Oh well. Hopefully they'll sort it out and be ok with it. This is about being neighborly and about all the guests, anyway!

When guests arrive, the house is ready and living room seating is set up in a nice circle. The dining table is spread with a huge bowl of homemade chex mix, a few varieties of finger sandwiches, and deviled eggs on a two-tier egg display. There's a pitcher of lemonade and one of iced tea and cups for drink and plates for snacks.

Young children are offered the sunken family room and a collection of board games, or the back yard to play in. At the end of the evening, there will also be trays of cookies to replace the snacks in the dining room. For now they sit in the kitchen, covered by a tea towel. Don't steal any, ok?

The tropical music of Les Baxter and his orchestra plays softly and there is a small tiki themed liquor bar between the living and dining room. If any of the adults are interested in a cocktail, they can have it served in a high ball glass with cute atomic-era art on the sides. Feel free to get a drink and mingle while you wait for the poetry and sharing to start or once every one has had their turn.


II. Cupcakes and Literature (Prompt by Sayori)
Sayori's efforts are obvious. If Pam's invitations weren't enough, you may have also seen signs posted around town where appropriate, especially at the library and the high school, where Sayori can be found most frequently.

She's also acquired a wide range of snacks to contribute to the party/meeting — accompanying Pam's spread is a clearly store-bought assortment of chips, candy, and drinks. But then there are also some...frankly pretty ugly cupcakes in both vanilla and chocolate variety, all frosted. They've been clumsily decorated with the opposing frosting color (white for the chocolate cupcakes, brown for the vanilla,) with images of what are probably books and quill pens. There are also a few with palm trees, in honor of Pam's tiki bar.

The cupcakes come with a disclaimer sign tucked under their tray in Sayori's handwriting: Don't worry, I made these myself, so they're safe! Maybe someone has learned her lesson about the food from the townsfolk. Should you venture to try one, they're serviceable; it's obvious they were made from a boxed cake mix and premade frosting. But she did her best!

You've been instructed to write and bring a poem, of course, but that's not the only thing to talk about at the meeting. You may be prompted to talk about your favorite piece of literature, as well; what's it called? What's it about? Why do you like it? Share as much or as little as you'd like — everyone appreciates literature in their own way! Who knows, maybe you'll find something new to add to your reading list!

Comments

Kipo | OTA

[purplejaguareye]

"Wow, so many people here! What's the occasion?"

Kipo didn't know about the literature meeting/party in her house, so she quickly tries to tidy up her room and go mingle. Luckily, she's not mad, just mostly curious since she doesn't get to interact with this many people outside of school.

Eventually she finds out it's a Literature Club, and that's pretty exciting!

"Oh, I love literature! Read any good science books lately?"

Feel free to laugh at the NERD.

[sploosh]

"Yeeeeah. Sorry about that, kiddo. I knew I forgot something."

And that something was telling her family. Not that communication is a big thing in the Wayne house. Still, Pam feels bad for leaving her not-daughter out of the loop.

"There are kids' games and snacks, too. Yer old enough to decide which kind of party you wanna be at."

[hxppythxughts]

Apparently unaware that this had been Kipo's house, Sayori looks pretty excited to see her again! She grins and waves as Kipo approaches, but her expression morphs to curiosity at Kipo's question. She parrots back, "Science?"

She sets her index finger on her chin thoughtfully. "I haven't! I never really thought about science books being literature, but they kind of are, aren't they?"

Okuyasu Nijimura | OTA

[righthandstand]

Poem

[It's a change to meet people. He promised Miss Monika that he'd go to her get-together and bring a poem. Once he enters and sits down, he regrets not combing through his collection and bringing a less personal piece. He tears off the bottom of his sheet and hastily scribbles a haiku.]

Blanket of sunbeams
Bedding made of soil and leaves
Afternoon cat nap

[Now he just has to hide his original piece somewhere safe.

Okuyasu brought a friend today! It's Stray Cat in its potted plant, pawing at the cat toy that Okuyasu bought. It hisses at anyway approaching it suddenly, but a substantial token of respect can appease the cat plant. It also makes for a good guardian against the slip of paper jammed into the soil.]

Snacks and Cocktails

[Okuyasu isn't exactly a kid, but he wouldn't consider himself an adult either. So until someone tells him to go play board games, he's lining his plate with one of every snack offered, filling up his cup with more iced tea, and hanging around the couches.]

Someone tell me the recipe for this! [He bites into a deviled egg.] Do you do this layout for every party?

[purplejaguareye]

Hi Okuyasu!

[Kipo's helping herself to some of the snacks as well. If there's gonna be a bunch of strange people in her house, there should at least be free food.]

Welcome to my house!

Poem

[peninhand]

[ Monika makes her way to Okuyasu when she sees him. Yay, he made it! She was afraid he would find literature boring and decide not to come at the last minute. ]

Hey there! Welcome to the Literature Club. [She smiled brightly.] I'm glad you found the time to come!

[ That was when she spotted Stray Cat. A chill ran down her spine, what was that horror? It was as if she was subconsciously remembering another life where she had dreaded this thing. Still, she maintained her smile. ]

Hrm, is that a plant...?

Nie Huaisang | The Untamed | OTA

[fanoperator]

Poetry

There are certain aspects of life in which Nie Huaisang has no chill. Poetry is one of them. He is not here for the poetry. He cannot imagine that the poetry of kidnapping victims in this remote small town where no one has even heard of Li Bai is worth hearing. It pains him to even think of sharing his poetry with people who cannot understand or appreciate it. (For this reason he also does not often share his poetry back home, either.)

He is here for the cocktails, the food, and because he cannot bear to disappoint his friends (in this case, his ‘friends’ are Pam and Carmilla, both granted into the category on account of their humor and love of booze). The entry stipulates a poem, so he composes one for the occasion (cw: implied animal death, blood). And then paints it, because he also cannot endure the bare words (in these inadequate letters, stripped to mere sounds and syllables without nuance) on the blank page.

It is, at least, a tiny comfort that this place supplies the whitest paper he has ever seen.

He carries his artistry rolled up into a scroll and clutched to his chest.


Cocktails

Huaisang is here for the drinks and only because he was promised that there would be drinks. As much as he loves a party, he doesn’t trust this place and the parties thereof. But a party thrown by his friends, featuring alcohol? Okay. He’ll turn up.

He heads straight for the liquor bar, smile edged with a little desperation until he has a glass in his hand and liquor warming his belly. The tiki drink is like nothing he’s had before, and he sips at it gladly, cheer increasing quickly with the sweet, fruity drinks.

Lingering by the snacks in his cute party dress, he happily helps himself to deviled eggs and finger sandwiches which are so much better than the foods provided by any of the locals.

Poetry

[peninhand]

Upon spotting him, Monika discreetly made her way towards Huaisang. She didn't want him to think she was purposefully trying to start a discussion with him. If he did, who knew what he would start imagining this time? She still remembered how poorly their last encountered had gone... Well, not that poorly, really. It'd been great, until the very end.

Regardless, when she was finally close enough, Monika pretended to be re-reading her own poem. Looking up, she smiled upon seeing him-- Yep, she's just spotted him by total coincidence.

"Oh, hello! It's so nice meeting you again!" Hopefully this time she wouldn't scare him off. This was perhaps a bit manipulative, but she didn't want to take any chances. "I hope you're having fun so far."

[sploosh]

Pam is more than happy to help her new friend, Huaisang, get buzzed. Maybe even tanked depending on how the evening goes. She may pour her drinks a little alcohol heavy, but they still taste tropical and fruity.

"Nice seeing you. I was hopin lots of people I've met would come t'this. I figure we all need a chance t'relax."

She sips her own aqua-blue drink and leans on the little bar. It really turned out nice, all things considered.

"I love your dress! Real shiny!"

[vampirella]

Carmilla has been haunting the party like a particularly petulant ghost, going over the poems that have been laid out for perusal and being very judgmental about it. Once she's read everything and made calculated evaluations of everyone brave enough to share their writing, she makes her way back to a face she knows and at least kind of likes.

Which happens to be Huaisang. "Why am I not surprised," she muses mildly, knocking the cute umbrella about in his drink around. "How is Tiki Time treating you?" Carmilla herself has opted for wine, a nice white. Because she refuses to be the vampire cliche throwing back a red.

[hxppythxughts]

Sayori can also be found by the snacks, like the little snack goblin she is. That's where she encounters Huaisang after performing her poem, the folded-up paper now in the pocket of her too-casual yellow dress and her hands occupied by a plateful of goodies. Is she really going to eat all of that? Yes.

The shimmer of his dress catches her attention out of the corner of her eye, and she gasps as she turns to look at him properly. Without thought but with genuine enthusiasm, she exclaims, "Whoooa! Your dress is so pretty! It's such a nice color!"

So sophisticated! She could never pull off a color like that.

Monika || Doki Doki Literature Club || OTA

[peninhand]

I/ Cupcakes and Literature
Of course, the President of the Literature Club was here. How could she not be? She had a paper in hand, with her own poem written on it. It felt nostalgic, in a strange way... She had wanted to put the Literature Club behind her. She had done terrible things for the sake of escaping it. Why, the place brought bad memories with it. And yet...?

Somehow, she'd missed it. For every bad memory, there was also a good one. She remembered her friends, how happy and carefree they'd been before her epiphany. She remembered how excited she had been the day she'd left the Debate Club and had approached Sayori about the idea of a Literature Club. How happy she'd been when Yuri and Natsuki had joined, when they had joined. How fun it had been every evening to come up with fun assignments and ideas for the club.

Maybe here she could do it but without... Everything else that had happened? Well, now was not the time to delve on that. She approached the closest person. She would share her poem, but just doing so without introductions would be rude.

"Hello! Thank you for being here." She beamed at them. "I hope you're having fun so far! It's not much, but we've put a lot of work into it."

II/ Just Poetry
But what about those who don't want to go for small talk? Who are just here for what matters: poetry! This prompt is for them. Indeed, Monika will very happily hand over her paper to anyone passing by who is looking to share a poem. Hers is a freeform poem, a bit on the lengthy side.

The Blind Monster

There are stories told of a monster,
Who attacked its loved ones,
Destroying everything in its path,
And leaving naught but misery behind.

Nobody knew why the monster was blind,
Its eyes worked right, its nerves alright,
Yet it could only see a light nobody else could,
All-encompassing, beautiful and warm.

The brighter the light,
The blinder the monster,
And then it ended,
When the light killed it:

It cried
             Alone
                          In the darkness
                                                   Awaiting the end

There are stories told of the monster,
Who had attacked its loved ones,
Surviving the light by miracle,
And being given a second chance.

For the first time it could see clearly,
Nobody knew why it no longer was longer blind,
Its eyes were the same as they had ever been,
But the all-encompassing light was gone.

It saw a mirror,
Approached it,
Looked up,
And then it saw:

Tears
           Running
                          On the face
                                                Of a human

The monster asked why,
The monster begged,
And its reflection replied:

                                 “Because you are
                                                              A Monster”

I

[purplejaguareye]

"Well, I kinda live here... but thanks! It's a pretty nice set up!"

Kipo remembers Monika from telling her not to burn down the lab. It's good to see that she's doing okay!

"So what kinda literature do you read here?"

( prompt: just poetry. )

[sunborne]

You put a lot of thought into your poem.

[ it's the first thing that got daylight's attention when the reading is finished and he can approach monika about it. he sips from his glass, sticking to water for the time being. no offense to the others who made the party food, really, but he doesn't know what's in the party food or in the drinks. the last thing he wants to do is bring down the party by making a mess of... everything.

besides he's more interested in unwinding and hanging out with the others, curious to hear what they had to say after being given a blank page and permission to do whatever. poems like monika? definitely the type that he was keeping an ear out for. ]

Is it alright if I asked a question? At the end of the poem, is the statement meant to be interpreted by the reader themselves, or do you have a set mood in mind for the final lines?

Kiara Sessyoin | ota

[thotsandprayers]

[Poetry]

[Kiara did say she'd give it a shot, so here she is. She can't say she's particularly comfortable at the moment, nothing to do with prior events though, she's just never written anything like this with the intention of sharing it.

So she's a little uncharacteristically nervous, keeping her poem close to her, like she's trying to keep someone from copying off her exam. Of course she does realize that it's a bit silly to be nervous about this and not a ton of other things she's done, but she can't really help being like that.]

You'll have to forgive me, this is my first time doing something like this, so I'm a bit...anxious. I'm much more of a reader than writer. Still, as they say, here goes nothing.

[And so, she starts to read...]

I am adrift on the sea.

Tossed about by tempests within and without.

Wondering if I will be consigned to the depths or will once more reach the shore.

Or perhaps I will be turned to sea foam, only momentarily touching the sands before being swept away once more.

[peninhand]

[ Monika did notice the nervousness, it was common amongst new writers. But that was usually a good sign. It meant they cared for the quality of their work and didn't just do something without even putting a little piece of their heart in it. ]

Don't put yourself down! I think it's pretty good.

[ And she meant it. She beamed and nodded at her. ]

It reminds me a bit of my own style, my early writings. [Specifically what she'd written shortly after her epiphany. Trying to reach for the shore... Yet being consigned to the depths. Yep, that struck a chord.] There's a little bit of your heart in it. That's more important than any "writing" skills.

[righthandstand]

Hans Christian Anderson?

[Okuyasu's first thought at the poem is that one fairy tale from Europe he read in a children's collection. The one with the mermaid.]

It's the idea of disappearing, right? If you sink, you're still you, but if you turn into foam, it's like you don't exist anymore.

( prompt: poem! )

[sunborne]

That was really good!

[ of course daylight has something good to say about his friend, a big grin on his face as he claps for her, but he really means it! honest! ]

-It reminds me of a story that an auntie of mine once read to me. It was really... [ hmmm... what's the word his auntie had to tell him when he was crying? in her flustered attempt to calm him when he cried over the poor mermaid? ] Melancholic. Yeah, that's the word.

Melancholic but in a good way. Makes me think about those people from before on voyages, trying to get home after a long journey.

[apodictic]

[ he's not the best at giving reviews, but he has settled on something that he finds is good enough and not at all awkward to say what he thinks about it: ]

... it's very pretty. But it sounds like you are not grounded at all anywhere.

[ alright, well, his social skills need work.

but her poetry reminds him of something. angelo remembers the line well, if only because of the person who said it - ] It reminds me of this quote a famous man in my world used to say: on Earth our souls are weighed down by gravity.

[sploosh]

This whole thing is exactly the kind of house party Pam has always wanted. Sure, she probably wouldn't have the poetry part on her own, but it's kind of nice. She wants to find out what everyone's experiences with the town have been, but she also just wants people to enjoy her house and her tiki bar. She even found a nice tropical dress to wear for this.

Pam has been trying to come up with a poem since they first started planning this thing. She hasn't written one since high school and her skill with them has not improved. She is desperately hoping no one notices if she doesn't recite one. It's her house so, maybe she's exempt?

For safety's sake, Pam keeps close to the bar to look too busy to recite poetry. She claps for the readings of others. Between poems, Pam pours cocktails and sneaks cupcakes. She always seems to have one on her plate, even when she's actively eating one. Pam doesn't want to feel like she's eating all of the cupcakes, but....

If you want a drink or to be chatted at endlessly, Pam is here for you. Bring her snacks.

carmilla karnstein. open.

[vampirella]

( so, Carmilla has a dirty little secret — she loves literature in any possible form. novellas, poetry, particularly profound lyrics, doesn't matter. she's delighted by the art form and is more intrigued by what humans write over what they say out loud, 99% of the time. she doubts that there will be anything particularly impressive in this gaggle of uncultured children, but, she's still willing to indulge in unimpressive amateur poetry just for a change of pace. especially since free alcohol is involved.

she arrives in a swath of black and perfect curls and even more perfect wine red lipstick. she does not bring a poem. so far no one has braved asking why, but if they did, she'd say she came for the laughs and the cocktails, and nothing more. and true to her word, shortly after arrival she'll have a drink curled in poison tipped claws.

despite her horrible attitude, though, she's not a bad audience. she listens reflectively at every recital, and occasionally snaps once if she likes a line. she doesn't offer any applause or appreciation after works are completed, though — unless it's Huaisang, because Carmilla is surprisingly loyal when given the opportunity to be. after she wanders to read works on her own time, saying nothing but it's obvious when she isn't impressed, a wry twist of a smirk on pretty features. look, she's taking Thumper's mothers advice, does that not count for anything??? )

[peninhand]

[ Monika could tell when someone wasn't enjoying themselves. More than that, she could tell when someone had come for the drinks and not for the actual purpose of the meeting.

And she knew the woman. They'd met during their time working at the library and more recently they had had an... Interesting discussion over the network. ]

... I'm glad you found the time to come.

[ Half-lie. She didn't really have any desire to see her, but if she was really depressed as she'd claimed over the network, well. Having managed to find the strength to come was a really big step, wasn't it? ]

So er, ahaha, where's your poem?

vasiliy yegorovich ardankin / original — historical/revenant

[m1895]

I. JUST YESTERDAY, YOUR PRINTING PRESS WAS SMASHED / NOW THEY'RE ASKING YOUR HOME ADDRESS
OTA / PRIOR TO THE MEETING — ARDANKIN RESIDENCE.

[ It's all so blatantly American, this assumption of safety, the absence of wreckers or secret police. When the flyer for an openly advertised private exchange of literature appears in the letterbox of the Ardankin residence, Vasiliy burns it over the kitchen sink and hopes to God none of the locals noticed that a society of any kind took an interest in him. And were he to buy into the backwards mysticism the Orthodox church fed his grandparents' generation, he would follow that up by praying that none of them think he's friends with the ringleader or a person with qualities that appeal to such a group.

Instead he just reaches for the open pack of cigarettes on the counter and shakily lights one, leaning back against the faux-granite edge and taking a long drag in the hopes of steadying himself enough to think straight.

If the mailman did see it, or a nosy neighbor, or anyone who might tell Harding or the mayor, they're going to be searching the house in the next few days, probably in the night. Unless Natalie or Claude have brought any mail in and neglected to mention it, there shouldn't be anything to raise suspicion indoors. But outdoors—for all he knows, something could have fallen into the dense hedges of boxwood that line the front of the house.

He can't just go searching through the bushes in broad daylight, though. That's suspicious. Vasiliy pushes himself up off of the counter and makes his way to the garage, grabbing the most likely tool for this time of year—a handheld weeder painted a cheery apple green for some reason—and circling around the house to begin his hunt for errant adverts under the guise of weeding. He's only just dropped onto his knees when someone other than the mailman starts up the cement walkway leading to the front door, pamphlets in hand.

Bits of moist soil fall from his knees as he stands up and speaks louder than he strictly needs to. ]

I have no interest in this meeting! None. I am not conspirator and I do not want any association with this! Do not come back here, you understand?

II. WHILE YOU WRITE, THEY'RE ON YOUR TRACK!
OTA / PRIOR TO THE MEETING — BLUE MOON DINER.

[ Truly, these people have no comprehension of how much danger they're in—nor how much danger they're putting others in, advertising this thing all over the town. He remembers the names and faces associated with this thing easily enough, the situation breathing life back into well-trod pathways in his mind, awakening the basic set of skills that kept him alive until the end of the nineteen-thirties: Comrade Soandso, cousin of this individual, residing in the same kommunalka as non-Party members X and Z, formerly a worker at this factory or, God forbid, that kolkhoz, noted for anti-Soviet sentiment and wreckers in its masses, and so on and so forth, a glittering web of connections he must remember to avoid like a child learning which plants and berries will surely kill him, a soldier mapping minefields in hostile territory.

He's on his way out of the Blue Moon Diner when he catches another person unfurling a flyer for the same damn meeting beside the corkboard on the wall. Vasiliy keeps his voice low. ]

Are you stupid? Do you want us all dead?

II

[peninhand]

[ Monika hadn't been particularly active in advertising the upcoming meeting. She's been far more focused on actually organizing the meeting and making sure everything would go well. She'd left the duty of advertising the meeting to Sayori, and on her end she only placed or gave out flyers when it felt appropriate. Now had been one such time. And she'd been pretty happy about it, until she heard a man call her stupid. ]

....?

[ Judging by the words, he clearly wasn't a native. Yet, something mystified Monika. Namely, the connection between the flyer she'd just put up and a risk to everyone's life. ]

I beg your pardon?

daylight vis lornlit. | ota!

[sunborne]

mingling. (open to all.)
[ daylight learned about the event by wholesale accident - a pamphlet literally whacked him across the face when he was doing his rounds as a courier. did it nearly cause him to get into an accident with a fellow biking guy? sure. did it intrigue the heck out of him? absolutely.

he swings by on the day and does his best to be a good guest: he talks to people. he offers to get drinks and snacks for others. he listens to others' poems and cheers them on with loud clapping and the occasional 'whoo!' if it's appropriate. he can tell a lot of heart went into this event and he wants to show his support for the others who get this rolling.

right now, he's chilling with someone, holding a glass of water and taking cautious sips like he'll throw up if not care. (it might happen. he doesn't know how whacky his body got again and- you know what? he doesn't want to focus on that.

not when there are better things to talk about.) ]

Soooooooo? [ he grins at the person he's chatting with, waggling his eyebrows - he forgot how fun and expressive human faces can be! - and nudges their side. ] What are your thoughts on this so far? I think it's a rousing success. Wouldn't mind having a sequel of this if there are already talks for it.

[ it's so nice to have something normal, holy shit. ]

the ballad of the soldiers' kisses. (open to all.)
[ daylight can be seen writing furiously on a piece of paper before it's his turn to share his poem. when he finally goes up, he seems to still be debating about what to do.

well- he makes up his mind soon enough because he grins at the crowd as he stuffs the poem in his hand and said he hopes it's alright if he did something different-

his piece is not one he originally made. rather, the poem - less of a poem and more of a song, oddly enough - is something he says is passed down in the small town he grew up in, shared to make sure it never dies. it's a jaunty ballad without instruments, a surprisingly bittersweet tale that tells the tale of these flowers from his world: amora viomnia, also known as soldiers' kisses. famous for being resilient and sturdy despite their delicate appearance, a burst of brilliant blue that apparently 'rivals seas and skies, the envy of all eyes.'

the flowers got their name from the legend that explains their origins. how they were made by tears wept by loved ones as their husband and sons went to a losing war they knew they would not return from. tears of sorrow and hope brought forth by already-dying-souls 'kissing their homes one last time.' the earth, touched by the love the family and partners showed, made their love and loyalty eternal with the 'bloom of endless blues', the tears springing for a reminder of the ones who could never come home and how they were loved, so loved, by all.

if someone talks to daylight after his piece and brings up the fact it's not his work, he has an answer the ready: ]

Had to improvise! [ he laughed, rubbing the back of his head as he blushed. ] The one I had readied was, like, super bad and I had to come up with someone on the spot. I love that peice, you know? One of my first memories of home.

i was your son, unfortunately. (open to up to two people only.)
[ one or two people, however, may have noticed the paper he stuffed in his pocket. or tried to. he misses his mark and when he leaves, the paper tumbles out of the folds of his jacket, allowing it to be picked up by anyone who saw it.

taking the paper and unfolding the paper will reveal the 'super bad' poem he opted to not go with, revealing the following contents to be something a bit more personal.

the first time someone gives it back to him, daylight will look surprised and embarrassed as he takes i, trying (and failing again) to stuff the note in the back pocket of his jeans. whoops. ]

Thanks. Um- Can we keep this a thing between you and me? I decided to skip on it for a reason.

[ the second time someone gives it back to him, he'll now look flustered and angry- but it's directed at himself. he gives a quick 'thanks' to the person who gives it back to him, clearly still stewing over how dumb he is for dropping the paper twice, and a look comes and goes on his face- ]

Fuck it-

[ -and he promptly stuffs the paper in his mouth after he balls it up enough for him to pop it in, ferociously chewing on it. can't keep losing it if it's literally in him! take that, himself! ]

poems gone astray

[fanoperator]

Daylight! [Huaisang sweeps up the paper with an elegant movement, reaching out to catch the sleeve of Daylight's jacket in order to stop him from leaving.

Lifting his head with a smile to look up at his very tall friend, Huaisang holds up the paper between them. He's tempted, but he would never violate his friend's privacy.] May I?

[His gaze flicks back and forth between Daylight's gaze, hopeful and earnest but understanding that some things are too private to share.]

sayori ♥ doki doki literature club!

[hxppythxughts]

SNACKS & COCKTAILS ♥ MINGLING! ota

[As fraught as the idea of reviving the literature club was, Sayori can't deny she'd been thinking about it even before Monika asked. It was a strange kind of deja vu, Monika extending the invitation for Sayori to help her set up this meeting. In some ways pleasant, and in some ways dreadful.

But this place is lonely. She hasn't felt right since coming back from the underground shelter. Writing is the only thing that feels normal — the only thing that still makes her feel like Sayori, for whatever that's worth. And even though the Literature Club (capitalized, the titular Doki Doki Literature Club,) was destined for tragedy...she was happy there, once.

So, conflicted as she is, she prepares for the first meeting of the Happy Exchange of Literature and Pamphlet with gusto. She can be seen in her usual red head wrap, her signature since having to shave all her hair off. She's also donned a casual polka-dotted yellow dress because she has no idea how to dress for a cocktail party, and even the casual clothes here seem fancier than anything she wore back home. She's quick to introduce herself to anyone she hasn't spoken to before.

She's not old enough to drink, but she absolutely prowls the snacks. More often than not, she can be found with a plate of snacks and a big grin on her face, and she eagerly greets any other party guests with her characteristic enthusiasm and her cheeks full of food.]

Isn't Miss Pam's food tasty? We really got lucky that she let us host the meeting here, ehehe~ I'm kinda embarrassed of my cupcakes in comparison! [Which she says with a smile, so who knows how embarrassed she actually is?

Perhaps she's even descended upon someone at the board games, or someone goofing off outside. If so, she barrels forward with excitement, regardless of what game they're playing:] Hey, can I play, too?

POETRY ♥ PERFORMANCE! ota

[If there's one thing Sayori isn't, it's shy. So, while she's happy to let anyone read the poem she's brought, she sort of feels like she should lead by example here and read her work aloud, in case anyone might be nervous about sharing.

She's not shy, but she is a little nervous, fidgeting with the slightly wrinkled paper in her hands as she stands before the willing attendees and grins.] Hi everyone! Thanks for coming! I hope everyone's having fun. We told everyone to bring poems, so...here's mine!

[With a deep breath, she recites. Something Monika had told her to work on was her delivery, saying her presentation might be too gentle for her darker works. So she worked on that, but still — there's something carefree in the way she reads. It's there even when she slows down to linger on some of the lines and provide dramatic weight, showing that despite her tone, she does have a sense for where the emotional impact should go. Though it's slight, her smile persists even when what she's reading isn't happy.

She does a silly little curtsy and a thank you! once she's done reading. Afterwards, she's happy to discuss her poem and even happier to read other poems in exchange; the sparkle in her eyes as someone approaches to engage her in Poetry Discussion is genuine.] I hope it was okay! It's been a little while since I've done a reading, ehehe~

WILDCARD ♥ ANYTIME! ota

[ If there's something else you'd like to do with Sayori, go ahead! Feel free to handwave that your character has met her before in passing if you'd like. Hit me up at ceesawaseesaw if you'd like to hash something out! ]

Poetry

[peninhand]

[ Monika clapped very enthusiastically once Sayori was done reciting her poem. She wondered, did anyone else in this room understand what the poem was all about...? Maybe sharp people or those Sayori had confided in, if any. Regardless, she smiled at her. She wasn't going to talk about the meaning behind the words just yet. ]

You've improved.

[ Asides from organizing the Literature Club, Monika hadn't really been talking to Sayori much ever since the accident in February. And even then, it'd been mostly organized through letters and the networks. So it was a good occasion to do so, though...

She wondered what was going through her mind. She had a good idea overall, but... She couldn't imagine Sayori wanted to speak with her. Was it selfish and evil then, for her to approach her and talk? ]

Not only as far as the presentation is concerned, but with the poem itself. [She closed her eyes.] I think Yuri would be jealous, ahaha.

[ Monika thought all of their poetic styles were valid and unique in their own ways. But if she had to judge objectively? Yuri probably had the most beautiful way with words out of everyone in the Literature Club. She was perhaps too wordy... And even that wasn't an objective view, there were no such things as objective views when it came to poetry. ]