If you'd like to apply to Snowblind and would like to test the waters first or get a sample set up for your application, this meme is for you! We've even provided some prompts for you to use if you want (but feel free to make up your own). Here's how it works.
✭ Reply to this entry with a character you're considering apping into the game. You can include the name of your character and the fandom in your subject line. ✭ Comment around to others on the meme, whether you're in the game already or not. ✭ Now you have a sample ready for your application! ✭ So go reserve and apply when reservations and applications are open. ✭ Seriously, do it.
Network Prompts
ONE: IT WON'T BE LONG NOW... Well, you made a mistake. You spent too long searching around, or you ran outside near the end of the day for just one more thing, and now you've been locked out. You can search around all you want, but the best shelter you can hope for is pressing against the side of a sealed up building. You do still have your tablet, though. Maybe someone on the network can give you some advice, or at least some comfort while you wait for hypothermia to set in.
TWO: CABIN FEVER Maybe you didn't want that mistake of getting caught outside to happen again, but now you've ended up staying too long in one location, and cabin fever has set in. Maybe you're taking to the network to try and ignore the hallucinations. Maybe you want to tell everyone that you've figured out they're all in on your kidnapping. Maybe you ended up wandering off and now you'd really like to know if anyone can check back in the place you were at for your pants.
Action Prompts
THREE: AN UNEXPECTED MEETING You're going about your business searching what seems like it might be an especially promising house--it's fully intact and there's even a working fireplace with some wood! It looks like someone else has the same idea, though, and you've run into them in the middle of your search. Do you share the potential wealth or try to kick them out? On the other hand, maybe you know who this is, or maybe you're just glad to actually see another person for the first time in ages.
FOUR: GOOD MORGUE-NING You've just woken up in a morgue after dying in one unfortunate way or another. You have no idea where you are beyond that, but your tablet is insisting you can't stay here, so you should probably get out of here pretty quickly. Of course, bringing people back from the dead isn't a perfect science, so you're missing something important to you. Maybe you've lost your voice, maybe you can't remember where you're from, maybe you can't remember where you are right now. It looks like someone else is nearby, though. Maybe they can help you out?
He was really starting to hate winter. No matter what the mission or what the circumstance, there always seemed to be snow and frankly, Clint was tired of it. Why couldn't he get trapped on a tropical island? Was that so much to ask?
Apparently it was because he was trudging through the snow rather than sipping a drink with a little umbrella in it, arms wrapped around himself as he tried to keep as much body heat in as possible. It had been over a week since he ended up in this place, a week of confusion and a bit of panic--now that he'd let it show. He hadn't been able to contact any of his teammates or anyone in SHIELD for that matter and he had no idea if Laura and the kids were alright.
That was the part that bothered him the most.
Glancing up, Clint spotted a cabin not too much further ahead and let out a heavy sigh. Finally. Something that wasn't the empty house he'd been using as a base of operations. It took him about twenty minutes fighting against the snow and wind to get to the cabin, the archer grumbling to himself the entire time before he was finally able to shoulder the door open, easing his way inside before slamming it shut again.
Clint rested his forehead against the door for a moment, taking a deep breath and letting it out, already feeling warmer now that he was out of the harsh elements. His shoulders started to slump some, the archer relaxing--
Only for the hairs on the back of his neck to stand up.
He immediately pushed away from the door and drew his bow off his back, an arrow notched as he glared around the room, keeping his back to the door.
Prompt One - voice network post [America feels dumb. Well, actually, he feels pretty numb, especially when it comes to his fingers and toes, but being out here at all is really stupid, even he knows that. It's already late enough that he can hardly see through the snow. Still, the only reason he's not still looking for a way to get into a house somewhere is he's out of energy to move another step. He spends some time feeling sorry for himself and then reaches for his tablet. He might as well talk to some people.]
Hey. S-so, uh, who's still awake right now? [He's trying to hide the tremors in his voice that come from the cold, but he really can't manage it.]
Prompt Three [Whenever America found an intact-looking house, he made a beeline to the kitchen. He hadn't actually found food in any of them yet, but every time he was sure that next time he would definitely find a fully stocked refrigerator. Never mind that he hadn't found even one piece of a fridge since he got here, this time for sure--!
Nope. Nothing. He puffs out his cheeks and kicks the wall as if it's to blame for there being no fridge or food--and knocks a shelf just above him down, sending all sorts of expensive-looking dishware down on his head.]
[Cold weather and Nathan Drake have become very close since his journey to Nepal, but that doesn't mean he's particularly fond of it. Its fortunate that he knows how to dress, and knows a few tricks to surviving in cold weather as a result but the house is a welcome beacon in what has otherwise been a miserable snowstorm. He's taken the time to start a fire, searching through various nooks and crannies for anything else that might be useful.
That said, Nate also knows to expect company once the fire really gets going. He's not gearing up to fight for his turf, but he knows better than to suspect that anything else wandering in will have the same idea.
The second he hears anyone (or anything) approaching, he'll stop what he's doing to move toward the fireplace and check intent. That way, if whomever (or whatever) ends up being hostile, he has fire as his weapon.]
Hey buddy, this stall is occupied.
[WILDCARD]
[Open to other prompts as well! Just reply with a starter. c:]
[There's the sound of the front door opening and being closed shut, though that might be drowned out as America topples half the kitchen. Certainly don't need sensitive ears to hear that crash (though, Goddesses, she misses hers) - the dulled kitchen knife Zelda draws definitely isn't made for combat, but at the very least it makes her feel better as she peers carefully around the door frame.
... And sees this sorry display. Despite herself, her guard drops a bit.]
[Oh, jeez, someone else is here.] Yeah! Yeah, I'm fine, this place is just run-down.
[...Wait, someone else is here! America whirls around, scattering broken china as he does. It's a woman. She has a kitchen knife, but America hardly processes it in his excitement at being face-to-face with another person again.]
Every door she's tried is locked. It's possible it's automatic, because none had been locked before she went out looking for food. Now it's getting dark and the bitter cold will only get worse.
Well, it can't be worse than her time in Russia during the war. She'll be able to deal with this. Hopefully.
She finds a side of the nearest building to protect her from the worst of the wind and starts packing snow into a makeshift shelter. Snow is one of the best insulators, and if she can make an igloo effect, she can possibly survive until morning.
While she works, she turns on the device she was provided with (tablet, the digital assistant called it, but she's still getting used to there being digital assistants).]
Is anyone still outside at this hour?
[Maybe if there's someone nearby, they can huddle in the makeshift igloo and increase their chances of survival.
Or, you know, she could just have some conversation while she fights to save her life. That can't go amiss.]
She heard the door slam. She was upstairs at the time, taking inventory of house, when she heard it.
She crept towards the top of the stairs, which led down to the front hallway in front of the front door, when she heard the question and the sound of a cord stretching. She doesn't like the sound.
"I'm unarmed." For a given sense of the word. She had nothing in her hands, but she was hiding a knife in her boot. She stays out of sight for now, wanting to force the mystery man to try to climb the stairs to find her. In the time it would take for him to do that, she could more properly gauge how dangerous he might be.
Malcolm Merlyn | Arrow | OTA (will match you with prose or brackets)
So many things in Malcolm Merlyn's life were starting to boil down to 'that could have gone better'. This didn't look to be any different. Of course no one had listened to him when he said to stay together and head for the outpost a mile ahead. Who listens to the one person who had been in the area before and warned that the weather could be unpredictable, right? No, all he had gotten were witty quips about him being a murdering sociopath liar who probably meant for them all to freeze to death on this forsaken mountain.
Now with the snow swirling in all directions around him, he couldn't tell who was where. The landscape didn't even feel right under his boots, a gritty roughness that spoke of pebbles and a sandy soil beneath the snow instead of the rocky outcrops it should have been. A tap to his earpiece didn't help much. Had he gotten turned around in the blizzard and gone back down the mountain by accident? Couldn't be. The land still had a slight incline to it.
The glow ahead became more solid and less wishful thinking the closer Malcolm got. That had to be the cabin his contact told him about. He'd get there, warm up some and find out where Queen and the rest of his people were. Shoving open the door, Malcolm slammed it behind him and dragged off his mask. Leather covered Kevlar might be great for combat, but damn if it wasn't the worst at keeping out the cold. Unshouldering his bow, Malcolm brushed the snow and ice from his face.
"That would be a lot more convincing if I could see you."
His gaze settled on the stairs, a slight frown on his lips. He knew this game; he knew what this woman was up to and he wasn't falling for it.
"Look, we clearly both had the same idea. Whatever crap place we started in, we wanted something warmer," Clint called out, keeping his bow drawn even as he tried to offer an olive branch. "I'm willing to share if you are. Unless you really do have a weapon and want to shoot me. Then we might have an issue and no one's here to keep me from doing something rash."
"If I intended to kill you, I would have been a lot more sneaky about it."
Maybe not the most reassuring thing to say, but hey, at least she's honest. She frowns in frustration when he doesn't start climbing the stairs, wondering if he has a gun trained on the top at the moment. It would be easier to deal with if he got into range for her to retaliate if he pointed a gun at her.
"I am more than ready to share, but how do I know you don't intend to kill me the moment I step out into the open?"
[She takes a step back at America's sudden movement, but gradually the knife lowers to her side. This man doesn't seem hostile, and she likes to think she's a good judge of character, but then again, perhaps she has a slight bias when it comes to blonde hair and bright blue eyes.]
Am I intruding?
[She'd rather not fight for territory if her gut instinct is wrong. There are still enough hours in the day to find shelter elsewhere.
Kate was in the bathroom, where she'd found some musty old towels and a bar of soap. The water was freezing, but after two days of wandering around this dumpy wasteland, she wasn't going to be picky.
The door slammed as she was in the middle of bundling back into her multiple layers after cleaning up. She froze. Her own bow and quiver were laying on the kitchen table, probably right within Clint's view. So there she was, half naked with the chill starting to set in, wanting to just curl up by the fire she'd started in the fire place. This guy could have been a creep, or he might've been somebody just as out of place as she was feeling. He could even be somebody who might actually be competent and helpful. There was only one way to find out.
"I'm naked in here, so you're gonna have to hold on a sec," she called through the partially closed bathroom door.
Whoever she was, she knew the game and knew how to hold her own. Clint turned that over in his head for a moment before he lowered his bow. He needed a safe place to sleep and this was as good as any so he had to try to make peace.
And it wasn't like he couldn't take her out if need be.
So, with that in mind, he knelt down and slid his bow towards the bottom of the stairs.
"Because now I'm down a weapon. And I'm an Avenger, ma'am. I have no intention of hurting anyone I don't need to."
He did indeed see the bow and quiver, giving it a curious look. There was something vaguely familiar about it but he didn't have much time to consider it when whoever else was here called out.
"...Well, at least your honest," he called back in a semi-amused tone, hesitating a moment before he lowered his bow a bit.
The archer glanced around again, focusing mainly on the kitchen before taking a few steps towards it.
"Look, I'm not here to be a creep. Just looking for someplace warm. Fair deal?"
She hears the sound of something heavy sliding on the floor. It could be a weapon. It could be a piece of furniture he was using to make the sound so she would come out into the open.
She patted the pockets of her jacket, then took out the mirror compact that she had had with her when she was kidnapped here. She eased towards to stairs, back to the wall, and stuck it out to check the front hall. The angle wasn't good enough to see the man, but she could see the foot of the stairway, and it looked like he had put down a... bow? Was she dealing with an archer?
Well, either way, she doubted he carried around a bow just to put down so he could put people at ease before shooting them. He may still have weapons, but he was honest about being down at least one. "I'm afraid that name means nothing to me, but I suppose I'll have to take your word for it."
She clicked her compact shut, putting it back in her pocket (and checking for the knife in her boot) before cautiously stepping out in the open. Every muscle was tense, just in case she needed to quickly find cover again.
It would be immediately obvious that something was amiss just by looking at her. Her clothes and hair were all from a different era, and depending on how closely Clint paid attention to his history classes, her face might seem familiar.
Clint will find that, in addition to the naked girl in the bathroom, there was also one other occupant in the cabin. As he stepped toward the kitchen, a dog growled as it emerged from the darkened hall. Its suspicion was short lived, though, because as soon as it saw Clint, the one-eyed mutt relaxed. He trotted over to the archer with his tail wagging and dropped a dead rat at his feet. Look, Clint, Lucky got you a present.
"No point in being dishonest. I could probably kick your ass if you turn out to be a creeper, anyways," Kate remarked conversationally as she pulled on the rest of her clothing. "But yeah, have at it. And don't mind Lucky. He only bites liars and scumbags."
S.O.S., can't feel nose or feet. Or teeth. Anything really. Need ten, maybe fifteen snuggies stat.
Grandma always said "Don't sail out farther than you can row back." Maybe next time I'll listen to her.
[ Alternatively, if you're brave enough to save his dumb ass, he'll be huddled against a wall, chin to chest with arms as tight as possible around his face in some halfhearted attempt to shield himself from cold. Otherwise, he'll respond nearly the same in video. Got to keep the blood flowing and keep moving. Talking might keep him lucid a little bit longer. ]
OPTION 4.
[ Everything is murky. Like a heavy fog wrapped around his face, blinding him and making his movements weak and sluggish; like wading through water. His mind turns slowly, blank but not. He knows his name and where he's from, he knows the face of his colleagues and remembers the taste of the cafeteria's jell-o. But it feels like he's been whacked hard on the back of a head, like he's in an episode of Looney Tunes and got stars swirling around him, bright and pulsing.
Eventually getting to his feet, his eyes start to adjust though his body is still slow to follow. He realizes with heavy footfall that it's a little -- no, a lot -- numb. Like his limbs have all fallen asleep, but without the telltale tingling. It's nauseating, but he can't feel the ground, or the wall he starts to clutch against, nails digging in for any sign of something palpable. Drugged, maybe? That has to be it. His tablet buzzes and he groans as he feels his pockets for it, nearly tearing it out and dropping it as he reads the message.
His memories are less fuzzy, though. Before anything else, he remembers being cold.
Followed by how much it sucked.
As he carries on through the nearest open door, he's sure he hears someone else. Still careful with how he holds himself as he gathers his bearings, an involuntary sigh comes before he speaks. ]
Hey, uh. Little help over here? Hand or two? Foot, maybe? I'll take whatever you got.
Clint didn't need to remember a history book to know who this woman was. Anyone who was anyone within SHIELD would know her face.
For a moment he's too stunned to move, staring at her like she was a ghost or something--
And it's that thought which prompts him to frown sharply, wishing he was closer to his bow suddenly.
"I thought bringing Cap's best friend back was cruel but now HYDRA's using you? How?" he asked sharply, chancing a glance around for something he can use.
"Confident aren't you?" Clint drawled, eyeing the dog for a moment before he knelt down and held a hand out to Lucky. He's going to ignore the rat because while it was a lovely gift, Lucky, he'll pass.
"Hell of a guard dog then in the right situation." Once he was sure he could, he rubbed the dog's ears with a grin. "He likes me. Maybe I'll steal him to help me sniff out HYDRA."
Sure, the Avengers did a good job of it but never hurt to have more.
Prompt two - video network post [Paranoia is nothing new for Jay. He's had some degree of it constantly for the last five years. That part of the cabin fever is easy to deal with.
The hallucinations, on the other hand... well, he's not entirely new to those either, as much as he'd like to deny that fact. They're still fairly distressing, and he's still not entirely sure if they're there or not. Which is why he's now turning to his tablet for help.
Doing a live video feed feels weird - he's much more used to Youtube uploads - but there's still a certain comfort to know that there's a camera on him.]
Hi, everyone. It's, uh, Jay here. I was just wondering...
[He glances behind him nervously.]
Just. Wondering how everyone's doing, really. That's all.
Which is only natural, when you think about it. Plant-based lifeforms need a certai climate in order to thrive, and this is most certainly not any such environment. His Guardian uniform keeps him a little insulated, but wearing layers can really only do so much good when you're not warm-blooded.
There's a scowl nearly permanently etched into his wooden face as he stomps his way into the nearest building, eager to get out of the cold and point the snow out from in-between his toe-like roots. It takes him a moment - his haste to get to warmth had made him careless - but eventually the Floral Colossus notices the tell-tale signs inside the house:
This building is already inhabited.
Immediately, his guard goes up. Groot raises his two wooden fists, ready to strike back if anyone is foolish enough to try to ambush him. He's managed to go this long without getting into any fights, but if someone here wants to make him into firewood they're going to have to work for it.
"I AM GROOT!"
For those of you in need of a translator, that's Groot-speak for 'Show yourself, coward!'
He was hostile, but he wasn't wielding a weapon. Peggy tensed, ready to jump out of the way and grab her knife. "What nonsense are you going on about?"
She had no idea what he was talking about, but she understood half of that sentence, and her face flushed with outrage. "Are you accusing me of being a HYDRA operative?" To someone who had sacrificed so much to fight them, that is the height of insult.
[He already died once, he doesn't need to die again! He lost his sight the first time and that's the whole reason he's stuck out here...he has no idea where he's going and has yet to find a door that will open for him.]
Helel, what time is it?
[The cartoony, jet-black star's deep voice (it hadn't had the hoarse timbre of the friend it was sort of named after available) responds in that pleasantly emotionally neutral tone computers so seem to love:]
It is currently 7:55 PM. You have five minutes to find shelter.
This vile town...Helel, let me speak to the network. Video.
[And the rest is a video feed to the network. It's hard to see his face under the hood of his cloak, but the fact that he's not looking at his tablet says a lot. To say nothing of the way the words just come out of his mouth in a rush, even phrases that should give him pause like "I died three days ago".]
Everyone...listen, I need help. I don't know how to tell you where I am; I can't see, I died three days ago and woke without my sight. I need to find shelter, I-
[His voice breaks, and then he stumbles into a mailbox, the tablet clattering to his feet. His shadow obscures the camera as he searches for it, and then his groping hand when he finds it. There's the rustling of fabric, distressed breathing, and a sliding, scraping sound. When the feed clears it's looking up at the snowfall, set on Enoch's lap as he sits against the mailbox. How is he going to find shelter in five minutes when he's running into things?]
I don't want to die again...but I can't ask any of you to die with me, can I?
So...talk to me. Someone talk to me so I don't die alone. Please.
[Of course, a mailbox means there's a building nearby. But he's not modern in the slightest and doesn't know this. He doesn't even know what it is he bumped into.]
[If it's any consolation, Peggy, Groot is in very much stuck in the same position.
He had been so sure he could get back to shelter in time, and now that he's realized that he can't he's been furiously posting to the network, demanding to be let inside.
He can't communicate out loud, but he's more than willing to reply to her post via text message.]
YES! How DARE these horrid beings lock the mighty Groot outside in the cold. Pay heed, human: This misdeed will NOT go unpunished!
Come, join Groot. Together, we may be able to break into one of the uninhabited homes, Or burn it down, at the very least, so that the warmth of its cinders may keep us alive until morning.
[Unfortunately for Peggy, Groot has no body heat to share with her. She might be able to use him as firewood, though, if it comes to that.]
[ Hot as the devil's balls with traffic backed up as far as they eye can see down Park Ave, she can deal with. But the bitter cold brewing and ripping at her flesh hour by goddamn, stupid hour was starting to get on her nerves. She hasn't seen a working tablet like the ones they've got for years and luck be her lady she still knows how to use the thing. ]
C'mon you piece 'a shit. [ The filthy mouth of a New Yorker, per usual.
Sofia lights up a smoke, sticking it in her mouth before swiping to take Peggy's broadcast. ]
Yeah, sugar, gimme a sec. [ It's nothing personal, Peggy. She gives everyone pet names--especially cute broads she can make harmless passes at.
Sofia's face shifts on screen. ] I think I got the video to work. [ She coughs, ducking behind a building but still stops to take a puff. The lengths an addict will go to. She must look like an amateur but it's the temperature drop that has her coughing and not the smoke. ] Where you at?
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snowblindmemes2015-05-12 07:10 am
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