This Be The Verse | Suburbia Catch-All (Semi Closed)

[ontologically]

WHO: Amy Dallon, Lisa Wilbourn, Stephanie Brown, Doreen Green
WHEN: Throughout November and early October
WHERE: The Bat-Squirrel Household
WHAT: Suburban family life.
NOTES\WARNINGS: References to past toxic family structures, suicide, abuse, potential mentions of past incest, tba.

The house they find themselves assigned to is a very archetypical suburban house. The paint is more than a little ugly, a muddy green colour that sticks out a little bit, but it's very standard otherwise. A kitchen connected to the living room which is sparsely decorated with only a few plants and generic art pieces.

Two bedrooms. A shared room with a bunkbed for the "kids" and a double bed for the "adults." And a sizeable backyard with a well trimmed hedge and a barbecue. There is almost nothing individual about any of it. It stands on a block of houses all cut from the same cloth. A house that has never been lived in, never been a home to anything other than an idea.

Same as it ever was.

Comments

the kitchen!

[eatsnutsandkicksbutts]

A good smell is wafting out of the kitchen, and anyone who investigates will find Doreen pulling a freshly baked lasagna out of the oven. She's wearing jorts and a croptop that has 'THE TAIL IS REAL, DON'T WORRY ABOUT IT' written across the chest in sharpie, and the giant bushy squirrel tail in question is curled around her ankles, well out of the way of any kitchen equipment. She'll turn to greet the newcomer with a grin.

"Hi! I'm Doreen, nice to meetcha. Sooo, I figured this suburbia roleplay is gonna be weird no matter what, but there's no reason it has to be the bad kinda weird, and food is usually a good icebreaker! I made vegetarian lasagna, and since the groceries are free here, I got us all ice cream. I didn't know what kind everybody liked, so... I, um, I just got every kind."

A pause.

"... In retrospect, should've checked to see if anyone has dairy allergies or is lactose-intolerant."

Re: the kitchen!

[ontologically]

This... isn't quite what she expected. Amy herself is wearing a grey tank top that has red and gold tattoos stretching down to the edges of her wrists - and simple cargo pants, looking every bit as antsy and tired as she feels.

Still, the smell does make her quirk a smile. Despite the peppiness. "...Hey. Um, I'm Amy."

She blinks, a bit lost for words. She is hungry, despite herself. But also...

"Sorry I'm just - trying to figure out how you managed to do this basically immediately?"

[eatsnutsandkicksbutts]

Man, this kid only looks a few years younger than Doreen. How is this AI determining family units! For that matter, why is the AI so fixated on teens saving their universes?!

"... I'll be honest, I was super hungry when I got here? The grocery store was my first stop. Plus, I'm in college back home, I basically never have the time or money to go all-out on baking stuff, and a lot of the ingredients were pre-made, so I went a little bit overboard. Throwing this together took like an hour, and most of that was just waiting for it to bake."

[ontologically]

"I guess that's one thing this'll probably be good for," Free time. Something she has no clue what the hell she's supposed to do with, because she's spent so much of her life with approximately none. Or in jail.

It would probably be insanely rude to ask if the squirrel tail induced a heightened metabolism to match with the animal in question. She has just enough tact not to ask - mostly because she figures she'll find out anyway.

"Well. I mean, I could eat. Lasagna's generally a lot better when you eat it fresh anyway," She looks around the house. It's halfway between a onceover - checking out their new 'home' - and the signs of someone checking if the coast is clear. "Has Lisa shown up yet? She's the blonde girl, the one that's kind of an asshole if that helps."

[eatsnutsandkicksbutts]

"Fun fact: there is never a bad time for lasagna." Doreen twirls a spatula around in her fingers to emphasize her point, leveling it at Amy with a flourish before she adds: "... Doubly so if your name is Garfield, or if you hate Mondays."

One day into suburbia and Doreen has already embraced the dad jokes. She does notice the furtive way Amy looks over their 'home' though, and gentles her tone a bit.

"... No, you're the first one I've met, but I'll keep an eye out for her. Someone from your universe, huh?"

[ontologically]

Amy blinks at the joke.

She has no idea who that is. The joke goes over her excessively curly head entirely.

"...Doesn't everyone hate mondays?"

She crosses her arms, looking away slightly.

"Yeah. My assigned sibling. We..." There's a moment of hesitation as she weighs what exactly she should say without breaching the terms of their vague handshake deal. "...we don't get along super well."

Oversimplification of the century. Some part of her mind nags her that she should warn Doreen (And Stephanie, perhaps more so) that they'll be housing one of her planet's most notorious supervillains. A very small part loyal to her old naive ideas of right and wrong, good and bad, hero and villain, easily quashed. Old loyalties die hard, but they still die.

[ichoosefight]

Steph was drawn in by the smell, but it's the message in sharpie that has her staring. She would have just ignored the tail. Whether it was real, a fashion choice, or both, it wasn't really any of Steph's business as long as it didn't trip her while she was walking down the hall. But it takes longer than is socially acceptable for Steph to imagine how much annoyance must have prompted the message, wonder whether it was written with the shirt on or off, if someone else wrote it for her, and finally realize she's staring at a stranger's chest.

"Oh-" What was Doreen talking about? "Every flavor is my favorite kind of ice cream!"

This statement has the benefit of being both distracting and true.

"I'm Steph," she adds belatedly. "Hi."

[eatsnutsandkicksbutts]

Honestly, it's not annoyance on Doreen's part, it's more that she knows the question is probably gonna come up sooner or later, especially with strangers, and Doreen's the kind of straightforward thinker who goes 'I know, customizing a shirt will make explanations easier!'

The tail in question perks upright like an exclamation mark at the sight of the new housemate, and Doreen grins, gesturing broadly at the fridge like that one Will Smith meme.

"You're in luck! We have every flavour! ... Or at least as many flavours as I could fit in the freezer. Fitting them all in was kinda like playing Tetris. Nice to meet you! I guess we're partnered up for this one, huh? "

[ichoosefight]

"So you're saying I should be really careful when I take them out." She nods sagely. Obviously the ice cream is the most important facet of their current situation. But since that's taken care of...

"So we're, like, fake-married? This whole family unit thing is really weird."

[eatsnutsandkicksbutts]

"Oh my gosh, I know, right?" Doreen throws her hands in the air, potential ice cream avalanches temporarily forgotten. It's clear that Doreen is the type of person who says words like 'gosh' with utter sincerity.

"I'm friggin' twenty! Being married at all, let alone fake-married, never even crossed my mental radar! I mean, you seem cool and nice, and it's neat that the AI overlords aren't staying strictly heteronormative with this, but they seem real strict about nuclear family structures. It's like they go their references from a bunch of 1950s home life magazines, or Pleasantville or something."

Around the house

[ontologically]

[This is going to be a special type of hell, by the looks of it. It's bad enough that one of her assigned parents is someone she so thoroughly embarassed herself in front of - the other major hell flag is that she's once again stuck with Lisa Wilbourn in what amounts to a freudian nightmare. Maybe for them both.

She resists the urge to hide in her room. Instead, she stands out in the living room.]

So... how's this even supposed to work anyway? We're just supposed to - what, play pretend?

This is stupid. I'm pretty sure we're all around the same age anyway.

[ichoosefight]

[ Steph was worried about Amy for a while after that incident, but things started to make sense shortly after that, and then she was too busy trying to take care of herself to worry about somebody else. She feels a little bad that she never called to check up on the woman... but she chooses to deal with it by pretending nothing happened. That usually works, right? ]

I haven't found any kind of surveillance, and it didn't seem like our host was too invested in the whole "picket fence" fantasy. I think in the house, at least, we can just be ourselves.

[ She's slowly surveying the room as she speaks. She checked the furniture and vents as soon as she arrived, but there's always a chance she missed something. ]

[ontologically]

[That makes not one but two people in this "family" who know too much about her for comfort. At least Stephanie seems nice. That's some relief. Amy wonders if her own inability to accept the comfort offered by the dolls somehow messed with hers as well.]

Yeah. Good.

[She'd have to ask Tattletale to be able to relax but it's a relief anyway. Not that asking Tattletale anything has ever brought her peace of mind.]

I guess it also depends how strict they are on the whole family thing. Nobody's going to look at us and think we could even plausibly pass for mother and daughter.

[ichoosefight]

[ Steph hums thoughtfully, still scanning the room while she thinks. It's true, even adoption sounds absurd with the age range they're working with. ]

We can always claim time travel. That's a thing in these places, right? You could be my daughter from... [ She has to stop to count. ] 15 years in the future, give or take?

[ontologically]

...You know, I don't think time travel works that well as a cover story. [She feels like the math on that is wrong too. Unless in this hypothetical time travel scenario, Stephanie had her when she was like, sixteen or whatever.]

But I'm pretty sure - just based on what Aurora said, that everyone else here was assigned a family. So I'm just wondering who the charade is for, I guess.

Shopping Trip - Closed to Lisa Wilbourn

[ontologically]

[Amy, clad in a hoodie and some jeans, stands at the entrance of the local mall. This is where she'd agreed to meet Tattletale after-all. Lisa. Sarah. Whatever. Since arriving here, she's seen far too much of the other girl. Being trapped in these circumstances is just the icing on the cake.

Get a makeover from a sibling!

Not family member. Not a friend (She's not sure she has many of those), specifically Tattletale.

She would have taken Bonesaw. Or Nilbog.]

[thinkerseven]

[ Give a sibling a makeover!

Lisa's instructions are posted right next to Amy's, but fortunately, nobody is around to see Lisa read them.

(She'd given Reggie a makeover once, when they were both kids, before he got too old to play with her. She smeared eyeshadow and lipstick all over his face, and their mom was pissed that she'd gotten into her stuff, but that was part of the fun.)

But the consequence for not participating is probably worse than the activity itself, so Lisa pulls herself together and meets Amy fucking Dallon, of all people, outside the mall's entrance.

She sighs as soon as Amy approaches. ]

You won't be too difficult, because I'm starting with practically nothing. Let's get this over with.

[ontologically]

[Amy stares at her flatly. She'd been expecting Lisa to be a total bitch about this anyway. Her body had been a source of insecurity for her when she was younger, less so anymore now that she's gotten considerably more fit, more thin.

Starting with practically nothing. What an opener. Establishing dominance from the start.]

Wow. Come up with that all on your own, Heather?

[This is probably going to involve makeup. Something she hates on her face. Great.]

But fine. Let's go. There's nothing saying I have to keep anything we get.

[thinkerseven]

[ Lisa grins. ]

Of course not. I take all my best insults from movies, Veronica.

[ The shift in Amy's self-perception about her body is probably obvious to people who don't have Lisa's power. That's what the tattoos are for. Which is a little bit of a relief, because if Amy hated her body - truly hated it - Lisa isn't sure she'd be able to go through with this.

It's not that Lisa looks at Amy and sees someone else. It's that it's so obvious who Amy isn't, because Amy took her, and because Lisa was too stupid to notice -

She has to focus. ]

I'm not going to put you or me through jeans, so let's start with tops. [ Lisa pushes through the double doors, then heads to women's. ] So. Keep the red theme or branch out?

[ontologically]

[She snorts. And leaves it at that.

Victoria took her shopping often, always feeling her closet was a bit too drab and modest, like she was hiding behind hoodies and bland shirts. The wound is obvious. A relationship she destroyed. It must take self control for Lisa not to pick at it.

She wonders if it's the same for Lisa. Or Sarah, for that matter. If this is reminiscent of something to her as well. She never had a brother. It doesn't seem like the kind of thing a brother and a sister would do. The idea of Crystal taking Eric shopping feels like a bit of a joke.]

I do wear other colours. [The other colour is black.] Just nothing... light, I guess.

WHO WANTS WAFFLES

[ichoosefight]

After a week of figuring out how to take care of zoo animals and then actually doing it, Steph is as exhausted as if she were patrolling the streets of Gotham every night. It's weird and uncomfortable, but kind of nostalgic. She hasn't had a lot of time to feel bad about herself or worry about the end of the world.

Now it's Saturday morning, and Steph is doing something new and different: making waffles. They're not at all impressive, but hardly burnt at all, and the table is outfitted with butter, syrup, whipped cream, some peaches from a can, and a bottle of chocolate syrup.

With a nod at the growing pile of finished waffles, she encourages the first to enter to "help yourself!"

[thinkerseven]

The first to enter is, miraculously, Lisa.

She's been keeping to herself ever since this forced charade started up. Amy has seen her the most, largely because the two of them share bunk beds. But Lisa tries to mitigate even that by sleeping at odd hours, preferring to creep around the house at night or early in the morning.

Today, however, she's miscalculated. Lisa enters the kitchen too late. Someone's already awake.

Lisa groans and rubs her eyes, shrugging deeper into her large purple hoodie.

"You know you don't have to do any of this, right? The whole thing is bullshit. Those robots are fucking with us."

[ichoosefight]

Steph blinks, momentarily confused by that statement. Then she turns back to her work, flipping the wafflemaker before too much of the batter can settle.

"Hey, don't give the robots credit. This is all me!" Yes, an item on her list is 'prepare a meal for your family', but she bought the mix and toppings before it was added, thank you very much.

[thinkerseven]

"It's the list," Lisa corrects, determined to be a pain in the ass. Why she doesn't just turn around and leave is anyone's guess - maybe she doesn't want to show weakness? Or maybe those pancakes do smell good. She's a supervillain of multitudes.

Lisa takes a seat at the kitchen counter, her attitude still not great, but apparently willing to play ball.

"Okay. What if I make you an offer. I try one of your pancakes, and then we drop the happy family act for, say, fifteen minutes?"

[ichoosefight]

Steph considers that while she extracts the latest waffle from the waffle maker, setting it on a clean plate for herself. There are probably enough now, and it feels weird to keep cooking while Lisa eats.

"I can try," she offers dubiously, "but I really just like waffles. It's kinda hard to drop an act I'm not putting on."

She smothers her waffle with whipped cream, chocolate syrup and a couple of blueberries before setting it on the table. If Lisa thinks that 'waffles for breakfast' is an act, her problem might just be with Steph's personality.

Oh well. That's never stopped Steph before.