goodplacehqs starters

open: everyone / @gpstarters location: town square

and dallas really hated yogurt. michael guided him around the town square, explaining important and unimportant things, but none of it really mattered because dallas wasn't listening. because dallas was dead. and that whole part of the exchange hadn't really clicked with him yet.

and when michael asked if he had any questions, dallas said, "no i'm good" even though his entire body at that moment was made of questions -- like how did i get here? where the hell am i?

and dallas thought of his brother, and what was going on back at earth, and who wes wheeler was, and why the universe thought he was him. and maybe because dallas wasn't really paying attention -- or just because he was actually pretty tired, pretty drained, he found himself pulling the yogurt handle too long, until a lot of it seeped on the floor. and maybe he would have kept pulling it if someone hadn't slipped in it right in front of him.

" ah ... sorry. " thumb rapidly taps the volume down for the little speaker. he'd asked janet for the closest thing to concert grade speakers for this mini-party at the front of his house. partially for the sake of having some fun, mostly to drown the awful acoustics of the last new song from jason aldean he'd heard. the moment he hears the country bleeding into the bass, he chills. it takes him a moment to recover, but once he does he claps his hands. " i like it loud. besides, gotta set the vibe, right? i'd play myself, but why not kick my feet up? splurge a little? " he gives a little laugh, passing a beverage over to the 'guest'. " how've you kicked off your happy-death-day so far? " grin and bear it, bright. despite the note crumbled in your pocket and the grating noise of the gutair, everything is fine! perfect!

check out the new hiatus form here and feel free to post ooc updates via the #gp.ooc tag.

due to not sending in their accounts, sabrina carpenter and charli xcx have now been re-opened. kursawa akihiko (yokohama ryusei) and maria jackson (sophie thatcher) are now soulmates, living in the lowest-ranked house.

michael has secretly written a note saying "you don't belong here" to bright sarin pangnakorn and slipped it into his bedroom. a demon (npc) has planted the false idea of jung eunha being the one who wrote that threatening note for them.

eunha's glad for her sunhat. it's almost annoyingly sunny, and she wonders if they could control just how sunny it can get. she hums, softly, and picking a flower from the garden and holding it. might as well make a bouquet. maybe she could give it to her soulmate as a welcome gift? would janet be able to help? she's almost asking for janet, but then she spots a human walking by. "oh! hey, what flowers do you think are pretty?" she asks, pointing to the flower garden.

where: town square

-- Kai checked his pocket for the hundredth time for his vape that still wasn't there. He figured being in the self-proclaimed Good Place would mean he'd never have to ask, "where's my vape?" ever again, but he was trying to accept that maybe the good thing to do was to finally attempt to quit. The other option was to just ask Janet for a new one everytime, but that was an unexpected feature of afterlife that he couldn't seem to get comfortable with. "To Janet or not to Janet, that is the question." He mused to whoever was close enough to hear. "It just feels weird to always be asking her for things. A little reductive to the feminist movement, don't you think?"

where:  neighborhood  cafe

gabriel  had  never  been  a  man  burdened  by  deep  philosophical  questions.

he  didn’t  waste  time  wondering  if  he  deserved  to  be  here,  didn’t  sit  around  contemplating  the  cosmic  significance  of  his  existence.  that  was  a  waste  of  a  perfectly  good  eternity.

so  while  everyone  else  seemed  deeply  concerned  with  why  they  were  here,  gabriel  had  skipped  straight  to  acceptance—and  more  importantly,  opportunity.

at  the  moment,  he  was  loitering  outside  one  of  the  quaint  little  cafés,  sipping  on  a  drink  he’d  absolutely  not  paid  for  (who  was  gonna  stop  him?)  and  watching  people  freak  out  over  their  new  reality  like  it  was  a  spectator  sport.

“i  gotta  say,”  he  mused  aloud,  lifting  his  cup  slightly,  speaking  to  no  one  in  particular  but  loud  enough  that  someone  would  eventually  take  the  bait,  “for  a  place  that’s  supposed  to  be,  y’know—perfect—the  coffee’s  kinda  ass.”

he  took  another  sip  anyway,  grimaced,  and  then  let  out  a  deep,  exaggerated  sigh,  shaking  his  head  like  he  was  deeply  disappointed  in  the  divine  beverage  selection.

“i  mean,  really?  eternity,  and  this  is  what  we’re  working  with?  no  cuban  coffee?  no  espresso  that  makes  you  question  your  own  mortality?  just  this—”  he  swirled  the  liquid  around,  unimpressed,  “beige  sadness  in  a  cup?”

he  leaned  back  against  the  wall,  eyes  scanning  the  street,  looking  for  someone  who  looked  bored  enough,  curious  enough,  or  just  dumb  enough  to  engage  with  him.

where: a welcome party

"figured you needed this because you look a little lost," hadley approaches someone away from the action of the party, nearly thrusting the champagne flute into their hand with an overly saccharine smile. it was an easy ice breaker of sorts, without seeming like she was prying too much into her neighbors' past life. "this is quite something, isn't it?"