WHO: Sam Evans & Ryder Lynn ( @goldenchildlynn ) 

WHAT: Oh you know, just hanging out in a locked woodshed in the cold, nbd

WHERE: Clarington Cabin woodshed

WHEN: Late Saturday night, 1/26

The sudden silence and darkness that followed the muted pop in the loss of power was eerie, when only seconds before, the main floor was filled with the sounds of people talking and music playing. “Shit,” Sam muttered, setting down his bottle of beer on the coaster atop the coffee table and getting to his feet. Outside was just as dark as the cabin’s interior, and Sam was silently glad he’d thought to charge his phone earlier. He pulled it out then, squinting when the screen’s light came on, eyes already adjusting to the darkness and frowned when he noticed the low signal for service, and the even lower temperature. The momentary surprise had given away to questions and some slight disarray and Sam felt kind of useless just sitting there. 

Briefly, he wondered if the cabin had some kind of backup generator, but wandering around in the dark for it didn’t seem like fun at all. The wood shed, however, that would probably be their best bet. Maybe a flashlight and definitely wood for a fire, put the massive fireplace to good use and get him moving around. “How about we get a fire going? Least we won’t freeze while they figure out what’s up with the power?” Carefully, and by phone light, he grabbed his coat from the hall and tugged it on with his hat and gloves, his covered hand coming in contact with someone’s arm and he jumped. “Damn! Sorry about that, I didn’t---wait, Ryder? I’m going out to get wood from the shed to build a fire while they check the power. Wanna come help?”

PLOT DROP #1: CHOOSE YOUR OWN ADVENTURE

Your character receives a text from an unknown number on Saturday, demanding they perform a specific action, and with a warning to speak to no one about it. Select ONE action, and write a short, IN-CHARACTER RESPONSE (200-400 words), including a reaction gif. Only ONE TEXT per person and the same text CANNOT be done twice. Please REPLY to this post with the text you’re planning to claim. 

Whether or not your character follows through and complete the task, that is entirely up to you (you should definitely do the task, just sayin’). Just remember, all choices have consequences!

[text] On Saturday evening, make sure the wood shed door is unlocked.

[text] Steal Santana’s nail file from her makeup bag, and leave it under the welcome mat at the front door.

[text] Steal Bree’s phone, and leave it in the mailbox outside.

[text] Take a kitchen knife and pop Hunter’s front, driver’s side tire.

[text] Saturday night, break the back window of Sam’s Jeep.

[text] Steal Tina’s scarf, and leave it on the front porch chair.

[text] Take Quinn’s purse, and leave it in the wood shed.

[text] Leave the first floor bedroom window unlocked.

BREE: you know how we would have those pacts in high school when we went out with the cheerios? where we said 'don't let me sleep with so and so' or 'make sure my shirt stays on in public'?

The task wasn’t a difficult one, that much Hunter knew as he stared at his phone screen, but rather it was who had sent the task that brought a shiver down his spine. It was an unknown number, one that when he tried to call back went straight to voicemail, and all that had been sent was the task along with some very forward instructions. He couldn’t talk to anyone about what had been sent to him and if that didn’t shoot up some red flags, nothing really would. Still, did he really have a choice in the matter? With all that had been going on lately, was it really wise to chance it and not complete the task? Fully resolved to complete what he had been asked, Hunter listened in for the sound of his girlfriend, content when he heard the water of the shower running.

Perhaps he hadn’t been the most fair to her lately, considering all the emotions that he had just let pile up between them, completely unresolved, but that was an issue for later. Later he would talk to her about what had been sent to him. Later they would work it out. For now, there was a mission to attend to.

“Babe, I’m going to go take a walk okay?”

His voice was strained as he hardly waited for an answer. Rather he made his way over to the chair where he had spotted the object of his task laying there over it, snatching the fabric up quickly as if afraid to get caught doing so. It was a simple enough task, steal Tina’s scarf and place it out on the front porch chair. He didn’t know why he was doing it or what was meant to be done with the scarf, but as he hurried outside and practically tossed it out onto the porch chair, it was done.

LOCATION: Clarington Cabin. 

WHEN: Saturday, early evening. 

Despite the weekend’s intention of being a fun little getaway with friends, so far it’d been anything but. Not only was Tina really not speaking to either Mercedes or Quinn – not after what the latter had said in the group chat just days before – but Hunter’d told her that something was on his mind about their relationship, but he didn’t want to talk about it with her until later ( whenever that was ), and had gone on to be nothing but distant with her since. 

Letting out a small sigh, she sank back into the lone spot she’d taken on the couch when a sudden thought struck her. It was one she weighted with for a hard moment for two before deciding fuck it and hopped up to make her way over to where a few bottles of whiskey were sitting from earlier. It’d actually been a minute since she’d drank – trying to be a support for Hunter after everything – but damn it, she was hurt, stressed as fuck, and a mess of other negative emotions and wanted something that’d take the edge off just a bit. She’d just slammed back a second ( rather large ) shot and turned to make her way back to her seat when she, instead, ran smack dab into someone. 

“Shit, sorry, sorry,” she apologized quickly. “I wasn’t really paying attention. . .”

Stealing wasn’t the problem. Santana had been doing it since she was twelve. Whether a candy at twelve, or a 15,000 Burkin purse at 21 - it depended on if it was for a thrill, or a necessity to pay a bill - she always got it done without flaws. 

 It was the fact it was a demand, and they didn’t need to say it for her to know she had little to no choice. That’s what fired up the nerves that cooked up the kind of discomfort that stretched from one end to the next. It was heavy; consuming the little peace of mind she rarely had. She was beginning to feel like someone was slowly webbing strings along her arms and legs, and creating a puppet out of her. 

Rage and fear sky-rocketed at the thought. She needed a drink, which was exactly what she announced when she entered the home after completing the task.

PLOT DROP #2: CHAOS AND CONSEQUENCES 

Darkness had fallen, and the tall trees surrounding the large cabin on all sides seemed to block out the stars. With only the moon high, giving off an eerie glow it was easy to move around. Everything had worked according to plan, objects in place and them, completely unsuspecting. If they’d been suspicious, it wasn’t entirely obvious. The texted demands were followed, and it was easy then, for the rest to fall into place. 

The cold was biting, but the prospect of good old fashioned revenge provided a bit of warming comfort. The quiet crunch of snow under heavy boots was the only sound when leather gloved fingers reached the welcome mat and plucked the gold nail file from its hiding place. It was the last piece to the puzzle, the kickoff to the real fun beginning and there was an almost gleeful hop to the side of the massive Clarington cabin to the fuse box outside. Quietly, the lock was picked, fingers curling tight around the handle of the nail file before jamming the sharp end of it into the tightly wound mess of wires and board. 

The hiss and crackle of electricity was instant, and the muted pop that followed was just the thing to blanket the cabin in darkness. All that was left was to leave the note before scurrying down the driveway, footsteps swift and silent and only pausing to pluck a large stone from the lawn. That came in handy, shattering the back windshield of the Jeep with ease, even as the sound echoed through the night, surely loud enough for them to hear from inside. 

Which was precisely the point. 

Now the real fun could begin.

LATE SATURDAY EVENING in the midst of a party, the cabin inexplicably goes dark. With the lights out and tensions high, our cast find themselves at odds, and perhaps in danger. Each pair will write a F2F based on the assigned prompt. How they react to the discoveries, and whether or not they reveal the potential parts they’ve played in the mayhem is entirely up to you! Please be sure to read the prompts carefully, and above all, have fun with it!

PLOT A: When the power goes out, BREE & HUNTER decide to check the fuse box, located outside towards the back of the cabin. Once there, they discover Santana’s nail file jammed into a section of wires, with a note attached to the front panel saying ‘did you forget to lock the front door?’. They also hear the shattering of glass from the other side of the house, and vaguely make out the outline of a figure in the thicket of woods.

PLOT B: With the power gone, RYDER & SAM volunteer to go build a fire in the living room and head to the wood shed outside. While gathering wood, the doors slam shut, and they hear the click of the lock, trapping them inside. They find Quinn’s purse, with a notepad tucked inside, the header on top reading ‘From the desk of Sue Sylvester’, with Bree’s name written and crossed out in black marker below. They spot what appears to be the shadow of footsteps outside the locked door, lingering for a moment before disappearing.

PLOT C: FINN & SANTANA decide to head out to the cars and grab flashlights. They discover Sam’s smashed back windshield with Bree’s phone inside, and the flat tire on Hunter’s car with Tina’s scarf tied around the driver’s side mirror.

PLOT D: Left alone inside, TINA & QUINN hear the loud shattering of glass coming from the first floor bedroom and decide to check it out. They find the window smashed, a large rock the culprit, with a note wrapped around it saying ‘I see you’. The creak of footsteps prompts them to check the back porch where they discover large, muddy prints leading out into the snow. They also discover, in the hot tub, a soaked duffle bag belonging to Ryder.

For fucking what? 

Sam snorted a laugh and shook his head before slipping his phone back in his pocket. It felt like an appropriate response to a text that was so far out of left field. The number wasn’t one he recognized, and he figured it was probably someone inside the house playing a joke. Because what the hell would anyone want with Santana’s nail file, besides taking it just to annoy her? If anything, it was probably Santana herself, setting up some ridiculous prank that would probably end in him being grumpy and her laughing about it. But curiosity won out over confusion (and perhaps common sense) ten minutes later though, seemingly kismet when Santana’s makeup bag happened to be nearby...or at least near the room his own bag was in when he’d went to change his clothes. So it was easy to pluck it from the bag and place it exactly as he’d been instructed, under the mat at the cabin’s front door. Bouncing on his toes, he shuffled back into the cabin and out of the cold.