Week 2.

[trustmods]

WEEK 2 Two people are dead. Ken Kaneki has been murdered, Reaver has been executed - and perhaps most uncomfortably, the Conductor is proud of you all for adhering to due process. (As always, by which he means that there is a process, and you all are certainly doing it.) Saturday is given to regrouping and sleep; come Sunday morning, the clock chimes the hour at seven o'clock and there are no dead bodies to be found, so it can be assumed that all of you are safe for the time being. That said, you'll be feeling a little groggy when you wake up; it seems you've regained something that you didn't realize you'd lost... However, once you've shaken that off, there are new things to be looked at; the previously closed-off area near the kitchen has been unlocked, and there's a new floor to be explored - consider it your reward for a job well done. PARTICIPANTS REMAINING: 27

SUNDAY | MONDAY | TUESDAY | WEDNESDAY | THURSDAY

[OOC: Welcome to week two of Trustfell! Save your threads for coins and the coming week's activity check; don't forget to check in to this week's activity check and submit your memory regains as well!

The Letters and Switchboard posts are still active, for the sake of contacting the jerk who's keeping you here, to be used at your leisure!]

Comments

[rickdiculous]

They've got dough. I'm a goddamn genius, Morty. There's - there's like, no effort involved with making pretzels.

[mortyfied]

[He looks fairly surprised. Like, unbelievably surprised.]

You know how to cook, Rick? [Where did this magic ability come from or at least where has it been all this time]

[rickdiculous]

Cooking is glorified science made for fans of Rachel Ray, Morty. [They're in the kitchen now, and he's gonna go rummaging through the cabinets.] Why would I cook at home w-when I've got other people to do it for me.

[mortyfied]

I dunno, because mom has a job but still does it, and dad doesn't ever cook for her? [He shrugs a little. It might be nice for someone to y'know. Do something for Beth every once in a while like that.]

[rickdiculous]

Your dad is useless and your mother is a saint who manages to do these things even on the verge of a failing marriage. Do you want pretzels or not.

[mortyfied]

Jeez... [I mean, he's not wrong though.]

Y-yeah, yeah I do.

[rickdiculous]

Good. 'Cuz I was making 'em whether or not you wanted some.

[There he goes! Rick is out and about making these really buttery soft pretzels. It's sort of the same passive-aggressive enthusiasm he has in the lab, and occasionally, he will bitch at Morty to get him ingredients. It shouldn't be totally unexpected.]

[mortyfied]

[On one hand, it's so fucking weird seeing Rick willingly cooking food for himself and Morty, especially after such a stupid but big argument between the two of them. But on the other, it was really comforting? Not 'cause his grandfather was making him good food but because it was like they were back in the garage, tinkering with whatever science-y gadgets Rick was working on that day and it made him feel at home. So he'd gladly help out, almost too eagerly ready to get whatever ingredients Rick wanted and even offering to mix or kneed or whatever.

It just felt nice to be doing something kind of normal, after how stressful this place has been so far.]

[rickdiculous]

[Hey, you know? This isn't half-bad. Maybe it'll keep the kid from stabbing him in the jugular or something. Rick really kind of wants to avoid that right now. In any case, soon enough, they have pretzels out on a tray.]

Alright! There we go. P-pretzels. Just take it all in, Morty. It's - it's the fruits of my labor. They oughta call me Aun-[urp]-tie Anne.

[mortyfied]

[Let's be real, we'd have to worry about Rick stabbing Morty first when it comes to who-stabs-who between these two.]

Yeah, Rick! They're - they look really good! [Nevermind that Morty helped and you're totally stealing all the credit here, Rick.]

Maybe we should share some with everyone else? I-I mean, unless you're planning on eating like twenty pretzels in one go.

[rickdiculous]

[WHO HAD THE IDEA AND KNEADED THE DOUGH AND DRANK FROM A CARTON OF MILK WHILE YOU DID WORK MORTY??? GUESS WHAT IT WAS HIM -HE GETS THE CREDIT-]

Not in one go. But - but, you know? What have those guys ever done for us? We should have like - I dunno, a pretzel supply. Just in case shit gets bananas and we don't have food.

[mortyfied]

Yeah, okay that actually sounds like a pretty good idea. [Well I mean Morty's friends with basically all of them, but he understands Rick not wanting to be nice to them. Also fuck you you credit stealing piece of shit grandpa]

B-but wait, won't they go bad in a few days?

[rickdiculous]

...shit. The fridge is here. Well, there goes that idea, thanks a whole lot for k-killing your grandpa's dreams, Morty.

[Great, now he has to think of a new way to ensure Logan gets no pretzels.]

[mortyfied]

Um.. c-couldn't we write our names on them? People won't eat other people's food, right? [He didn't meant to ruin Rick's hopes and dreams, honest.]

[rickdiculous]

That's stopped literally nobody in the history of ever.

[Well, not him, at least.]

[mortyfied]

Umm... [Well he's fresh out of ideas, then.]

We could write a note and stick it on the fridge?

[rickdiculous]

That's the same thing but more asinine. We basically only communicate in notes at this point, don't encourage it.

[mortyfied]

Yeah, okay you got me there.

...hey, y'know - i-isn't is kind of dumb to talk in notes when there's only like, twenty people living under one roof together? It'd be like - i-it'd be like if they only texted each other in Big Brother! [Imagine what a shitty show it'd be.]

[rickdiculous]

It works in theory. I don't - don't wanna expend effort chasing down these weirdos to tell them things. It's not valuable use of my time.

[mortyfied]

But what if you've got a lot to tell them? O-or if someone, y'know, ruins your note after you put it up there. [Just speaking hypothetically, of course.]

[rickdiculous]

Then it was a dumb note to begin with.

[mortyfied]

[He's just gonna roll his eyes at that, and pick up one of the pretzels to munch on while he leans back against a counter.]

D'you got any ideas about the pretzel thing then, Rick? [Said through a mouthful of food because what are manners when your grandpa burps in the middle of words without so much of an "excuse me".]

[rickdiculous]

Yeah. That they need mustard. [Ignoring the real issues here. Rick is gonna dig through the fridge in a fruitless attempt to find mustard.]

...We could just take the whole fri-[eeerrghh]-dge.

[mortyfied]

[He decides to finish the mouthful first, before speaking up again.]

I dunno, Rick. I don't think the Conductor'd be very happy if we - i-if we did that.

And.. probably everyone else, too.

[rickdiculous]

Well, I got nothing then. Guess I'm gonna have to eat all these pretzels. Just all of them. Scarfing that shit down.

[He starts! There's a pretzel in his hands now, mustardless, but still enjoyable.]