[ CALL ME OUT 2.0 ]

[tinfoiltennis]

【the ❝CALL ME OUT 2.0❞ meme】
a roleplay meme to inspire muses.

♛ refer to the list above for active muses. (if you want, you can also refer to my full muse list, but the ones above are the ones that come easiest to me!) ♛ post "calling" one of them out — you can do so by putting their name in the subject line! ♛ can be informal/formal/comment spam/crosscanon/explicit/whatever tickles your fancy! ♛ feel free to make up a scenario at the start, or wait to see where things go. meme code.

Comments

politely requesting one (1) chris

[justjoshingya]

[ How long has it been since she dragged him in here and left him? (She, now, never it anymore, never just it ever, ever again.) He doesn't know. It's hard to keep track when he's only occasionally lucid, when he can't be all sure what's real and what- well. Or what's worse.

He hopes Mike made it, at least. And the others- they had to have found a way. He falls asleep there, eventually, right there where she'd dropped him despite the smell and the bodies and the cold. At least he must have slept, because at some point he opens his eyes and he notices he was lying down.
Hannah still isn't back.

It might well be days before he moves from that spot. At a shuffle, a stumble at first. Josh finds he doesn't really... want to. There's no drive to escape, and he recognizes that hollow weight in his mind, but there's nothing he can do about it. At least water is something he won't have to worry about - there's the insistent memory at the back of his mind that they mined here for radium as well as tin, but it only makes him laugh, dry and croaking and too high-pitched as if he has to worry about cancer right fucking now.

He wanders. If there's an exit (there has to be there has to be) he doesn't find it. Eventually he runs until his lungs burn and the thirst kicks back in and hunger begins to be genuinely painful, but all it gains him is tripping in the dark and falling in a heap, collecting a handful of cuts and scrapes. He stays down a few minutes before he picks himself back up.

Not too long after, he finds a mine shaft that looks up at the sky, sees daylight, he thinks, and by that daylight he finds a phone. He doesn't know whose it is (except it's not Chris's, and that's all that matters). The front is still just smudged enough to figure out the swiping pattern to unlock and then... then what?

Now what? (He checks twice to be sure he isn't imagining that it's on, that the glow of the screen is really there.)

What's he supposed to do with one bar of battery and one bar of reception?

He dials Chris's number from memory, not bothering to check if it's in the contact list or not. ]

u can have him but i reiterate: next time i get to play the cursed dead asshole

[doublebinds]

[ the time since standing next to Ash watching the lodge go up in flames at dawn has been a blur.

it's not even because a lot of stuff's been happening, even though a lot of stuff has been happening. the interviews with the tiny rural police department, for one thing. Chris had muddled his way through his, what little patience he had left (not fucking much) wearing thinner as the leading questions got more obvious.

could it have been one of your friends who did it? she asked when he talked about the old man, but what he heard was that they needed someone to finger for the blame for what happened on the mountain, and it was gonna be one or maybe all of them if they had enough evidence for it.

apparently they didn't, because they all walked out of that station, even though Chris is pretty sure that won't be the last of it. hell, he's pretty sure they're convinced they're all either lying to cover for each other or all suffering from some sort of collective trauma-induced break with reality. whatever, they can think what they want. he knows what he saw, and he's not likely to forget it either. would that he could.

Chris sleeps like the dead that night, so completely shattered that if he did dream anything, he doesn't remember it when he wakes up, confused and disoriented for a moment to find himself in a strange bed for the brief moment before everything from the past however long comes back to hit him in the ass with all the speed and force of a monster truck.

he's just. he's done. maybe not 100%, but he doesn't even know how to begin to process all this-- this. Jess is moved to the hospital for her injuries and he still can't quite believe she's still alive after falling down a freaking mine shaft, and the rest of them exist in varying states of some foggy, shell-shocked haze. maybe that's just him. Ashley seems - she seems okay, at least, or as okay as any of them can be, even if he doesn't really wanna let her out of his sight until they're all safely far far away from Blackwood Mountain. his mom calls, out of her mind with worry after hearing about the lodge fire from the police, and he spends the entire phone call reassuring her that he's alive and still in one piece and hoping that the heavy lightness in his everything doesn't carry too much down the phone.

she asks about his friends, about Josh and he can't stop his voice from sticking in his throat. just says mom, don't when she picks up on it. finally hangs up after goodbyes and see you soons and reassurances that his parents will at least try and meet him halfway even if they can't get all the way up to rural Canada for him.

the call that comes later is different. he doesn't even recognise the number, area code, whatever, and the thought occurs that it could just be some kinda scam call. or someone with a wrong number. in which case he should probably answer and tell them so they don't keep trying over and over, right?

he swipes his thumb left almost on autopilot and picks up. ]

Hello?

the day you actually play an asshole, I will be there, friend.

[justjoshingya]

[ It takes hours to connect, it takes days. He false-starts to answer once when there's a crackling and a different voice there but then the dial-tone continues. Until someone picks up and Josh is pretty sure this time it's not in his head but-

he needs a moment.

Shit, he needs a hundred thousand moments but he's got one bar of battery and the reception has been reliably in the goddamn toilet for as long as he's been coming to this mountain and when he takes a breath to answer, it's already shaky. ]

Chris? ... Chris please tell me it's you, man, you gotta have made it out of here.

[ His voice is cracking on the emphasis and he doesn't care about that at all. ]

ok good i am glad we have established this

[doublebinds]

[ he thinks he feels the floor drop out from under him. that lurch in his stomach, wrongness in the soles of his feet. all over again he's tied to a chair with a gun in his right hand and Ashley sobbing in the chair across from him and watching the maniac pull his mask off to reveal Josh who was dead and he watched it happen-- ]

J-- Josh?! [ this can't be real. it can't be. Mike said that the thing, the wendigo, dragged Josh off into the mines, and the thought of they can imitate human voices flashes across his mind before he gets enough of a grip on himself to remind himself that a wendigo wouldn't have the first fucking clue of what to do with a cell phone, jesus.

oh god. oh god. he's still alive and he's still on the mountain and there's a million things Chris could say right now with the burst of cruel, painful hope in his chest. ]

Jesus, I-- yeah, yeah it's me, how are you even-- where are you?

[ that's the important question here, shit. ]

[justjoshingya]

[ He's alive. He's alive, he's alive that's what matters. Josh chokes on a sob before he can catch himself. Honestly, self-control hasn't been making the cut since they dragged him to the shed, anyway. ]

Oh god. I'm- I'm glad you're alive. I- and the others? Ash? Mike, Sam?

[ Please let them be okay. Please. Please. It hits him, late but hard as ever, that if they weren't, if they hadn't made it, then... well, then Hannah would've probably brought them back here. If the other bodies are any indication. (His stomach growls at him. He stops thinking about the bodies.) And that if she hasn't returned at all by now, that probably means...
He's not sure if an older brother is allowed to wish that his little sister is dead, no matter what she ended up becoming. But he also isn't sure how he could hate himself more than he does.

The question posed to him goes unanswered. Josh isn't so sure it's important. ]

beep beep hpau incoming

[spiritphone]

[It's Hufflepuff vs Ravenclaw, and Ashley's not entirely sure why she came. Well, besides cheering on Matt-- but it always looks like he doesn't really need the help. The match is still just getting started, nobody's been knocked to the ground yet and she thinks someone may have scored because of the cheering that went up from the 'Puff section. Some of her fellow Ravenclaws seem a little nervous, but she's really much more worried about someone crashing a bludger right at her (what, accidents happen!) than the scoreboard.

Still, her hat hasn't been blown off yet, so maybe that's a good sign. Also good? The person she's watching the game with, of course!]

Can we even see the snitch from here?

awww yis

[doublebinds]

[ the thing about being in Hufflepuff house is that things get a little scary around Quidditch matches. well, actually that probably applies to all four houses, but considering Hufflepuff is usually so chilled out like, 90% of the rest of the time, the sudden turnabout as soon as someone throws a quaffle in the air is kinda unnerving.

still, at least even in the height of Quidditch fever, no one holds it against you if you slip off to go sit with your friend from the opposing team. ]

Survey says no. Though it also says you might be better off asking someone who's not bordering on legally blind.

[spiritphone]

[Seriously, some of those banners are pretty impressive. She scrunches up a little, trying to think, but whatever she's thinking of she's lost it.]

There's gotta be some kind of, like, binocular charm, right? [Why wouldn't there be?]

[doublebinds]

What, like a magnifying charm? Probably. I mean if there's one that does it for voices it like, seems kinda dumb not to have one for seeing stuff.

[ beat. ]

Or y'know, we coulda done the sensible thing and just, y'know, brought some real binoculars.

[spiritphone]

[Oh. Right.]

I don't know. This is the wizarding world, Chris. I don't think they've ever heard of the sensible thing. [Oh yeah, she's going there. Shots fired etc.]

[nippy]

[ SWINGS IN HERE UNANNOUNCED AGAIN, SURPRISE give me UD shenanigans with Chris okay!! whether you want a shitty frost spirit trying to help dumb teens escape wendigos oooor post-trauma pelting snowballs at them until they like winter again or a n y t h i n g. ]

[doublebinds]

[ THERE IS ABSOLUTELY NO EXCUSE FOR HOW I TOOK A MILLION YEARS TO GET TO THIS i am so sorry but after much waffling let's go with option 1 hope jack enjoys this terrified nerd ]


[ the chain of events that led to Chris having his back pressed against a tree trying desperately not to move or even to breathe too much would probably take a double handful of butterly effects to explain. and yet, here he is, pressed flat against the snow-covered bark and scared absolutely shitless.

he lost track of the others around the time the things, the wendigos, got close enough to actually catch a real look at them. but he can't hear anyone screaming, which, he has to assume that means everyone's still alive and in one piece and that they're just in exactly the same position of trying not to move or make a sound or-- they've gotta be, right?

slowly, he inches his head a little to one side to peer around the tree, see if he can spot anyone else - and freezes all over again when there's a blur of movement climbing up a tree at about one o'clock to him, too fast to be anything human. shit shit shit, what the hell is he supposed to do now? ]

[nippy]

[ when Jack wanders up into the mountains, it's usually to spend time alone. a few days without anyone around to look past him, just collecting himself out in quiet and cold and solitude, recharging the energy he needs to keep vying for attention from people that only ever walk through him. it's the only time he's ever willingly alone and it always makes him feel meliorated after days, weeks, months of being wrung out and exhausted.

the nicest thing about the mountains in winter is probably that they're completely deserted. no spirits, no other creatures, barely any humans that stay there at all.

so of course there are fucking wendigos on this one. the only supernatural thing Jack has ever been actually terrified of (because what the hell is a spirit of winter going to do against a cannibalistic monster with super strength and an immunity to cold?) and he manages to find it in abundance on an uninhabited mountain in the middle of Nowhere, USA. that would normally have him flying as fast as he conceivably could in the opposite direction, maybe even trying to get other spirits to listen to him so that someone might do something about the huge wendigo nest — but there are kids out here, trapped in all of this, some stupid teenagers that didn't know any better. and Jack will not leave them to die.

there's one useful thing about this horrible place, he learns. something is... strange about the air of it, and although he can feel the difference, he doesn't realise what it is until he passes near some of the teenagers and a girl screams. actually screams, because she saw him, a brief glimpse that her boyfriend assured her was an animal. whatever it is, there's a kind of magic ingrained in a part of the mountain, and it seems to make spirits more visible, more real and present to humans. the wendigos have a harder time seeing him — he isn't alive, not like humans are; he has no warmth, no heartbeat — and the humans actually can see him, for once in his life. it might be enough of an advantage to make this work.

he thought that until everything started falling apart, anyway. they've all gotten so scattered and there's nothing he can do to help but try to find them and round them up, which means he'll probably have to show himself at last and just hope they want assistance desperately enough to listen to him. there isn't time to walk every one of them to safety (he's not sure anywhere up here is safe now) so he gets one out of imminent danger and moves on to the next — and it's Chris that he finds, hiding behind a tree and staying still there to avoid being noticed. he has to hand it to the whole bunch of them, they catch on fast, at least.

from his vantage point up in the treetops, it's easy for Jack to get a handle on the situation. getting out of this, he can do; it's when there are more and they're close that it becomes too much. he pulls together as large a snowball as he can use and he throws it hard past Chris, past the wendigo on the tree which sees the movement and chases after it somewhere. knowing that the diversion won't buy them a lot of time, Jack drops quickly to the ground (doesn't actually land, he hasn't put his feet down since this all started in case he needs to move somewhere fast, and the wind understands the urgency) and hooks his staff around Chris' arm, pulling to get his attention. ]

Kid, we gotta go, now.

[doublebinds]

[ continued from here ]


[ the past two or so weeks have been the most fucking stressful of Chris's life.

at the time, after the line with Josh went dead, it felt like it took an age to win Mike over. it probably didn't, but it felt like it. although Chris can't really blame him for being skeptical at first, because what even were the odds-- yeah, best not to think about that. honestly, Mike had kinda looked like he was lowkey worrying for Chris's sanity, which was touching and all, and again, Chris can't really blame him given how wrecked he must've seemed at the time. hell, more than seemed. it's just as well Ash was there to back him up; he can't really thank her enough for that.

after that, it was a lot of trying to figure out what Mike remembered from his trips down the mines and the map and trying to see if they could make any sense of it, and a lot of talking to the police (again), and - and then a lot of waiting, disguised as trying to be practical. he keeps his mom updated via text, as much as he can. visits Jess in the hospital to check on how she's doing. hits the centre of town with Ashley one afternoon to go hat shopping, because they need some kind of break and besides, it's beyond weird to see her without one on her head while the one she wore on the mountain does its time in a coin laundry for its sins.

and then they find him.

Chris didn't realise how much tension he must've been carrying with him until he felt the relief at just hearing that drain it all out of him in one go. he wanted to believe it'd happen; he's been trying. but - there was always a chance for something to go wrong.

thank god it didn't. another week passes but it feels like one weight has been lifted, at least. his parents arrive with a small rucksack of extra clothes and a large amount of worry. and then, finally, they're given the okay to visit, if they want. if Chris has any misgivings, sitting like white-hot rocks in the pit of his stomach, they're far outweighed by needing to see with his own eyes that Josh is alive and maybe, possibly, on the way to some sort of mend.

and besides, he kinda sorta promised a talk, even if it wasn't in so many words.

so here he is, and here they are, given a room number and directions at the reception, walking down corridors till they get there. well. here goes nothin'. ]

[spiritphone]

[Ashley kind of can't believe it at first. This has to be some kind of mistake. A trick. She goes in the room and poof, all this falls apart and it turns out she's the only one who made it out, after all. But that doesn't happen, because instead they found Josh. 8 out of 8. Gang's all here. Well, if there's any gang to speak of anymore (Em still isn't talking to her or Mike or Chris and she wouldn't blame her if she never did.) And there's--

Well, there's what Josh did, too. She doesn't know how she feels about that. But Josh is here, and alive, even if it takes a week or so for things to clear up enough for visiting, and that's... she's got time to figure out how she feels, now. She's kind of grateful.

She's pretty sure you're supposed to bring flowers when you visit people in the hospital. She skipped them. It was winter, and in the end, she just didn't think to run out to a store for them. There were more important things than daffodils happening. Like visiting him at all. Because-- she won't know until she sees him, that this is real.

Her eye's not quite returned from black yet, but it's less purple than it's been. That's real, too.

She stops in front of the door the helpful receptionists gave them, futzing with the poofball on her new hat. It's gonna take a little getting used to.]

Well, uh. Here goes nothing?

[She knocks on the wall outside the door, a little soft at first but loudly once.]

Josh-- Josh it's me and Chris, can-- can we come in?

[justjoshingya]

[ What were the odds? Not fucking good, that's what. And yet- and yet he hung in there, somehow, and now here he is. It's not a mental hospital, not yet, and the feel of it is different from the ones he's been in, but not by that much.

He expected to wake up alone. He doesn't. His mother's already there, sitting by his bed and reading while he comes to, and while he's still too groggy to really do much beyond accept the worry and relief she nearly drowns him in, he's still grateful she's there. From there on out she's a whirlwind of action, because it turns out there's a lot to sort out now that he's... well, not dead. Everything he brought with him burned down with the lodge. Phone and papers and keys don't exactly replace themselves, even though he doesn't expect anyone to raise a fuss when they cross the border.

It's a day before he's cleared to see anybody else. A day to remove the tubes (ugh) take stock of his injuries, prove he'll eat and take his meds and not jump at things that aren't there. To clean himself up, too, not because he needs it but because it feels uncomfortable to be clean without having done anything about it himself.
A day to actually put on clothes of his own, pulling a hoodie and a pair of jeans out of the duffle bag without looking all that closely. It's more of a challenge than he'd like with his left wrist in a cast, but all things considered, his injuries are minor. They've stitched up the cut on his forehead and the stab wound in his shoulder, bandaged all the other cuts. Painkillers are the most they can do about cracked ribs, and other than that, his wrist is the only thing that's broken. The bruises reaching around his throat haven't faded yet. Neither have the ones on his face.


It's weird to be alive.


He still hasn't really convinced himself he wants to be, yet. The jury's still out. But he's made it this far. ]

Uh- sure. Yeah, 'course you can.

[ Like the question catches him off-guard. He's sitting cross-legged on the bed, leaning back against pillow and wall. Raising his uninjured hand in a halfhearted wave, but his heart is hammering like it's considering to move out of his ribcage. He's definitely on the terrified side of the sliding scale - still looks more uneasy than anything else. Well, that, and like he's taken one hell of a beating. ]

Hey. Hey, guys.

[ Swallowing drily, Josh wills his voice not to crack, but, wow, that doesn't work. ]

[doublebinds]

[ it's surreal to see him sitting there. "surreal" or just plain unreal seems to be the way of the universe right now, apparently, so against his own nature Chris is trying to roll with it. trying. he still needs a moment to collect himself, enough to draw in a breath before letting it out carrying a: ]

Hey yourself.

[ he's really alive. looking beaten to hell and back, sure (no thanks to Chris for contributing a punch), but alive. and Chris doesn't even know where to begin now, what to do or say.

crossing the space to the bed while he's figuring that one out seems like a good start. yeah. let's go with that one. ]

[spiritphone]

[Holy shit he's alive. Like, really alive. Like talking to them alive. She waves, but then she's not sure if he can see a wave from where Josh is sitting, so she adds a:]

Hi.

[And then she'll follow Chris because that seems like a good idea. Except it's kind of not, because this close--this close she can almost tell where she stabbed him, and there's cuts and bruises (not like hers but almost) and they're around his neck oh my god he could've died, he could've died, but he didn't and he's here and so the next thing Ashley says is this:]

Are you okay?

[Why would he be? She realizes that the second she says it. So, she starts trying to-- not take it back, just. Soften it, somehow.]

I mean-- are you going to be? You're going to be, right?

im twelve and what is this

[spiritphone]

[It became March before Ashley even realized it. She skipped a week straight, but she figured nothing would push out 'chased by cannibals in the woods' stress like the 'oh god i have three papers due on the same day' kind. She still had meetings with someone once a week, but hey, the quicker things returned to some variety of normal, the better.

So, really, this should be just any other Saturday. In theory. And meeting up with Chris to grab dinner should be no big deal. Again, in theory. But in theory's not the same as in practice, and this... this whatever that's been hanging over them since forever in some ways, but especially since he'd said....

Well. Whatever it is, it's not going away, even as she picks apart breadsticks while she waits for him to get here.]

u r now banned from the neopets forum

[doublebinds]

[ things are getting better. mostly. they are. no place to possibly go but up, right? and if Chris is still struggling with it a little, a lot-- well, he's getting help to try and deal. he waffled for a long while about going back to try and finish the semester or not, but he needs something to do that isn't him wearing certain trains of thought into his brain like a kid digging a groove into the dirt with a stick, so, why not class, right? it's as good an excuse to leave the house for as any other.

well, actually, take that one back, because there are definitely better excuses to leave the house for. like, for example, this one, ie, meeting up with Ashley. which is a pretty great excuse - okay, no, excuse is the wrong word, reason's a better one - for dropping almost anything else.

(he's definitely trying to avoid even thinking the word date until he's confirmed he's not just getting ahead of himself.)

he's running late, so he's a little out of breath when he gets to the place and spots her at the table. ]

Hey, Ash! Sorry, I uh, I hope I didn't keep you waiting too long.

[ it's really good to see her, but then, it always is. ]

his wife? a horse

[spiritphone]

[She perks up when she sees him. She's... pretty sure she always does. She stops futzing with the bread to wave him over, anyway, and tries but doesn't try to not look so red in the face.]

Hey, Chris! [There, see? Ordinary. Nothing special happening here. Not today. Yup.] Oh, yeah, you missed the waiters having a breakdancing competition over there. [She keeps smiling. She's... really not sure she can stop.] But, uh, no, really, you're fine. [She ducks her head a little, here.

Oh, right, uh, the menu. Let's... pretend to read that.]

[doublebinds]

Shoot, and here one of my life's dreams had always been to see a breakdancing waiter.

[ he slides bodily into the seat opposite her, grinning as he shucks off his coat and unzips his second jacket. it may be warming up outside, but not quite enough yet for Chris to drop his winter levels of layering.

her smile is so pretty. his gaze lingers on it for a moment even as she ducks her head to stare at the menu, and then -

well, then he notices the breadsticks, and the grin that had briefly subsided into a dopey little smile returns in full force, with an extra glint in his eye. ]

Oh no, I see breadsticks. The internet warned me about this!

excuse me i have a delivery for miss evie frye in the form of dragon age au and her awful twin

[aggravate]

[ hopefully Evie isn't in the middle of anything important at present, because the relative peace and quiet of her study in the Frye twins' ramshackle Denerim house is being interrupted by Jacob returning home from a Red Jenny assignment and promptly sweeping into her one and only private space uninvited. he throws himself down on an armchair that is probably one dramatic flop away from collapsing entirely, lays his legs over the armrest to put his muddy boots up, and points at her.

without any preamble: ] Reason number one: they're Orlesian.

[ he doesn't bother to explain, first, that this is the beginning of Jacob Frye's Reasons not to go help the Inquisition, a continuation of an argument they've had previously about it. she's his twin, and they've lived together for twenty years; she should always just know what he's going on about, of course. ]

I AM SO LATE but also So down for this

[lonicera]

[ Maker's breath, will her brother ever learn to knock?

she knows the answer is most likely no, of course. they're twins; personal or private space of any kind is in short supply as part of the package. but Evie can dream.

she glances up from the herbalism book she was pouring over, and her face immediately scrunches up in irritation as her eyes zone in on Jacob's muddy boots all over the armchair. ]

Lovely of you to give me warning before you barge in, dear brother. [ she snaps the book shut, straightening up and crossing the room to shove her brother's legs down from the armrest, because honestly, they were not born in a barn. ] I was under the impression that they were recruiting from all over Thedas, actually. Isn't the man in charge of their army Fereldan?

[aggravate]

[ he was trying to look cool and casual, don't be rude. ] Yes, recruiting. Lovely to have expendable Fereldans in your army, isn't it?

[ really, that's his weakest argument, which is why he opened with it. apparently you're supposed to open with your stronger point, but in his opinion whoever said that has never won an argument; because the best way is to come up with as many points as possible and use them all, weakest to strongest, to wear the other person down until they just concede. in Jacob's experience, it never fails.

and so: ]

Which leads nicely into reason number two: they're a military organisation, Evie! [ he braces his elbows against his legs and leans forward to emphasise how important this one is. ] We don't like armies. Remember that? The armies that fight "for the people" and trample everyone in their way as they march to wherever they're told?