hitchin'

[insertusername]

hitchin'

Going my way? When you find yourself on some lonesome strip of road with no way to get where you’re going, you stick out your thumb and hope the kindness of strangers pays off. It's a hitchhiking meme. Find a lift or offer one.

top level

as a hitchhiker or a driver. or both.

Hitchers tell your potential driver where you’re heading and see if they're willing to make some room.
Drivers pull over and lay down some ground rules for riding with you.

comment

on the hitchers you’ll stop for or the drivers you’ll hop in with.

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HITCHERS

[insertusername]

Larry Trainor / Negative Man | Doom Patrol

[horticulturalist]

[ Paraguay to Ohio is a long journey and the way he drags his feet looks like he's not expecting anyone to pull over anytime soon. ]

Rose Marshall | Ghost Roads | OTA

[borrowyourcoat]

[A teenaged girl in a too-big coat is working the tables at a truck stop diner, looking for anyone with an empty seat and not too many questions.

Or maybe she's on the median in a green silk dress on a cold night looking both out of place and time.]

voice testing! pls be gentle

[akanotjewel]

[Jessica doesn’t usually leave New York for her cases. Until today, the furthest she went for a case was Ridgefield Park, and that had been a total shitshow from the start. This one is shaping up to be yet another: a missing persons case, a young woman named Amanda Steiner who’d packed her shit after a fight with her family and fled three states away. The family had then contacted Jessica and tearfully asked her to help them. They also offered a shitload of money, for any information she could dig up on their kid’s whereabouts. And if she could get them in touch with each other again, so much the better.

Honestly, she’s just glad she’s not being asked to haul the woman back home. Doesn’t sound like she wants to go back—what Jessica had dug up on her, and had gotten from the possessions she’d left behind in her room at her family’s place, had given her the impression that this was a woman who was looking into becoming, uh, something called a routewitch? Whatever. Jessica’s hoping that Amanda’s at least receptive to her parents knowing where she is. Would be nice to get to pay her rent.

The legend of the Phantom Prom Date is somewhere in the research Jessica’s done into Amanda’s interests. A girl in a green silk dress never makes it to prom, blah blah blah, she’s heard that tale before. She and Trish used to swap scary ghost stories when they were kids, but Jessica doesn’t really believe in them anymore, so she’s not really expecting to see a girl in a green silk dress on the median one night, on a highway leading to Pennsylvania.

She frowns. Slows the car, rolls the window down, eyes the girl up and down. She shouldn’t. She really shouldn’t. Who the fuck knows what this girl might have up her sleeve.]

The hell are you doing, hitchhiking on a night like this? [She sounds kinda irritated and surly. But she stopped, and she has a jacket, and this girl’s probably gonna get goddamn cold out here in a dress like that.]

we haven't started and I already love this muse combo so we're golden

[borrowyourcoat]

[Rose isn't in the best mood herself. She at least tries not to look like the unliving urban legend she is when she's on the shoulder of the road, but right now, it's being The Road and every attempt to will her deathday dress into something less Midwest Cinderella. The last thing she needs is yet another armature ghost hunter putting another pin on the goddamn Google Map her nephew showed her that at least one paranormal research group was using.

The dress usually means something, but fuck if she knows what the Road's asking of her tonight. There aren't any scents on the winds of the Twilight telling her what to expect, just the dark, and the cold, and then the familiar bright light of a slowing vehicle.

She's surprised to hear a woman's voice, especially a younger one; but even with the irritation in the woman's tone, she visibly relaxes a little- or goes through the motions of doing so, as any poor lost young woman would. She's played this part long enough.]

I had a fight with my boyfriend, [she says it sheepishly, like it's her fault some asshole would leave her out here and she's embarrassed to be troubling some poor driver by her very presence. It's the story Antimony says would piss her off the most at an imaginary stranger, and for some reason, following Antimony Protocol just seems like a good idea here.]

He had a bit too much at the open bar, and I didn't think he should be driving and- [she shrugs and motions to her situation while hesitantly inching towards the offered coat like a hungry stray cat coaxed towards an open tuna can.] He didn't bother leaving me my phone.

[She's always found that creating a villain for a situation diffuses the interrogation portion of hitching a ride. And a throwaway about an open bar hints at something fit to be dressed the way she is- or she hopes it covers that question.]

[akanotjewel]

[Oh, goddammit. Jessica’s about to ask if she can’t just call her parents, before the girl drops that on her.]

Let me guess: this boyfriend left no money for a payphone either, huh? [She sighs. This boyfriend sounds like a grade-A asshole and this girl should drop him like a hot potato. But Jessica doesn’t say that, because that would mean she’s invested. And she’s not. Honestly, she should just get going already—maybe someone else can pick this girl up.

Someone else who’ll probably do far worse to a hitchhiker in a gown with no money or phone than judge the kid’s life choices, as Jessica’s doing.

God fucking dammit.

Jessica grits her teeth, then leans over to open the passenger door, grabbing her camera bag from the passenger seat and settling it on her lap.]

Get in. [It’s brusque and gruff. She’s going somewhere, and from the looks of it, looking for someone too: besides the camera bag, there’s a bag full of files resting on the floor of the passenger seat, and a notebook and pen stashed in the middle compartment. An overnight bag takes up the backseat.] I’m headed to Pennsylvania. Where do you want me to drop you off?

[borrowyourcoat]

[Another shrug and pat down of the silk dress- which is either high-end vintage reproduction or a really well-preserved piece of the real deal. Despite appearing to be the sort of girl who can spend that kind of money on a dress, there's no "spoiled rich girl" reaction to the inside of Jess's car. She settles in to the heat of the borrowed jacket and the comfortingly familiar unfamiliarity of an empty bucket seat with a touch too much ease for a lost kid, but maybe she's just happy to be warm.

The rock radio deciding now is the time to que up Smells Like Teen Spirit has, she's mostly sure, nothing to do with her. Probably. Maybe. Hopefully.]

You going through Ohio at all? My stepbrother's in Columbus- he always said I could come stay with him if things got bad enough.

[Stepbrother. Nephew. Either way, a "responsible adult" willing to play along with her cover story if her Good Samaritan of the night is the kind to follow up on it.] If you drop me off somewhere near there, I can find my way to his place.

[And, because she's always known questions and the oppurtunity for people to talk about themselves to be a great distraction from the cracks in between what she's presenting and the actual truth:]

So you're heading out there for work? You a writer? [Again, hitchhiking ghost tip: always ask someone if they're a writer, even without any proof. Someone talking about their epic fantasy novel in progress means less questions directed towards her.]

[akanotjewel]

[Jessica takes off her leather jacket and hands it over, watches her with some interest, noting that the dress is pretty vintage—either this girl's family has some money to her name, or she scrimped and saved to impress her boyfriend. Honestly, Jessica would put money on the latter—people have done worse shit in the name of impressing someone else.

Looks like an experienced hitchhiker, too. Might be this isn't the first time a guy's screwed her over.]

I can drop you off in Erie, but you'll have to make your own way to Columbus. Try the bus instead of hitching a ride. [Jessica drums her fingers on the wheel, pulling away from the shoulder, wishing she could drink. But she's driving and she has no desire to get pulled over for a DUI, so, here she is instead. Should've stayed in New York.]

I'm a private investigator, but yeah. I'm working. [And because her clients expect confidentiality, that's all Jessica means to say.] What's your name?

[borrowyourcoat]

[ She doesn't say anything but nod in agreement to both being without money, and perfectly fine with Eerie. She knows a diner near the outskirts of the city run by an ambulamancer family. She and most of the Routewitches eat free there as a rule, and in this getup, she'll be known on site by half the people there- and a friendly driver is likely to get at least some free pie for her trouble.]

No shit? That's cool. I'm Rose. What's that like? [Because she refuses to believe a teenager of any generation wouldn't be impressed by that. 'Investigator' might not be her favorite word, but her run-ins with ones paid by the case have been few and far between. They're more a concern of the recently dead- and then, the concern goes on to the PI to figure out how to explain how they know someone's dead without a body.

She also bets this woman's good at it- bold and curious enough to stop for someone, disengaged enough she's not demanding to drop her off at home or a police station. Good enough she's very much not giving any last names if she can help it.]

Erik Lehnsherr/Magneto | X-men

[metalmanipulator]

[He looks tired, a bit worn out like he's been traveling rough for some time now, and....is that blood on his shirt? Apologies if you stopped to pick him up anyway.]

Kara | Detroit: Become Human

[deathroadtocanada]

[A woman just trying to get the hell outta Detroit, man.]

Wendy Corduroy | Gravity Falls

[kindaruledatit]

[A teenage girl making her way down the road, trying to either get out of or back into Oregon.]

Spooky Jones | The Young Protectors | OTA

[ifightmonsters]

[And now, here's short dark and fluffy guy of asian descent in a trenchcoat and hoodie, even if it's hot out. If you have any form of magical detection, you're gonna feel him real strong when you pull up. In a lot of places, he's a fairly well known figure. Maybe you know him from TV, maybe he's saved you at some point. It's just kind of what he does as a magic-based superhero. Who doesn't drive and can't fly.]

DRIVERS

[insertusername]

Arthur Morgan - Red Dead Redemption II

[unshakencowboah]

[Could be canon era where you flag down this guy riding horseback (or modern lol), or modern where a worn but cared for covered pickup stops for you and yes that's definitely a shotgun on the ceiling. 20+ only for shippy stuff, OTA otherwise]

[drakestone]

Eli wasn't an idiot. He'd been told from a young age about the dangers of hitchhiking. He'd seen the true crime dramas on tv. But, like the Outback, the American west was enormous and hitchhiking beat trying to walk through a lot of still untamed wilderness for days on end. In addition to the usual dangers, there was also the fact that he himself was a wanted man, and he could never be sure who might recognize him. Still, he'd take his chances with people over bears, wolves, and mountain lions.

It was getting late, sun was starting to go down, and he'd had no luck thus far - apparently the few cars that had been on this lonely stretch of road had seen those true crime shows too.]

Come on...

[He stuck his thumb out once more as an older truck approached.]

(ooc: Eli is a Marvel OC, his info is on his page, can take him from anywhere in his timeline. Good for shippy or gen.)

[unshakencowboah]

Arthur was no stranger to these long silent roads, didn't mind them in the least neither. Sometimes he'd pull off the road and stop for a smoke, turn off his lights and look up at the sky, enjoying the view that was stagnated in more populated areas.

He still had a few hours before he made it to the motel so he snuffed out his cigarette under his boot and climbed back into the truck to keep on going. He hadn't been back on the road for half an hour when he spotted something in the growing dark.

Knowing full well the next town was quite a walk out here, he slowed down and looked out at the stranger. "Hey there, need a lift?" he asked. The truck was towing a horse trailer but there wasn't anything inside it at the moment.

[Open to either too, anything shippy is 20+ though]

[drakestone]

“He’s actually stopping!” Eli exclaimed to himself as he saw the truck slow down. He lowered his arm and waited as the truck rolled to a stop near him.

“Yes sir.” He couldn’t hide a smile; he was worried he was about to have to find a sense of shelter for the night out here. He moved a hand to the passenger side door handle, his eyes shifting to the stranger to read his body language and facial expressions to make sure it was okay, before he climbed up into the truck. “Thank you, was getting worried with the sun going down.” He looked the truck over. Cigarette smoke lingered in the air, not heavy, but noticeable. Truck looked pretty standard, seats was comfortable at the least and he wasn’t out in the wind anymore either. His eyes did catch the shotgun over his head; kneejerk nervousness was pushed aside. Eli told himself that the guy was probably just a rancher, and not some Texas Chainsaw Massacre psychopath or something. “Oh, I’m Eli.” He went for a handshake.

(ooc: Can take him from later in his timeline then and see where things go.)

[unshakencowboah]

Arthur unlocked the door and let the young man climb in, moving his beat up black Stetson off the seat and tossing it in the back. "I'm Arthur" he greeted, friendly it seemed as he shook his hand, his grip solid and a bit rough from outdoor work. "I'm headed to the motel in Valentine, can take you at least that far if that's okay." he said

The truck smelled of tobacco, hay, and horses, the radio was on with his phone jacked in on a personal playlist that seemed comprised of sea shanties and country music.

He noted the glance to the gun. "Just for horse robbers. Be surprised at how many people try to steal them" he chuckled and began to drive again, the purple and orange of the sunset silhouetting the few trees and telephone poles ahead of them.

[drakestone]

He had know idea where Valentine was or what it was like, but he was all for it. "Valentine. Sounds great." He didn't have a lot of money on him, but hopefully enough for a motel room and some food.

A bit of a sheepish smile crossed his face as Arthur noticed him looking up at the gun. "So you're a rancher?" As he'd assumed.

The music wasn't anything he'd typically listen to, yet he did find it strangely relaxing in its own way. "I take it you're not from Valentine either then?" Since he was heading for the motel after all. He had stuffed his pack between his legs on the floor and opened it up to pull out a water bottle. Not wanting to be rude to his driver, he held one out to Arthur in offering as well.

Felix del Bosque | OC (Amber Diceless) | More info in journal

[hellride]

[Good news, he'll only hit on you if you're a guy! Children will get lectured on the dangers of hitchhiking, any kind of creep or weirdo could pick you up, don't you know?

The vehicle no matter the setting will always be 1) unbelievably cool and 2) very fast. Car, horse, spacecraft, whatever. He's always dressed just slightly out of place. Ignore the clearly open bottle of alcohol wedged between the driver's seat and the console, and hope the cops don't take notice because also the vehicle is stolen.]

Yoshitaka Mine | Ryu ga Gotoku

[spendings]

[ You wouldn't think a bright yellow Lamborghini pulls over for just anyone. ]

The Conductor | Polar Express

[nevereverletitcool]

[why is there a steam engine here]

neal asterly | original | ota

[apophenian]

[ get in losers, we're going ... towards civilization, ok, because fuck these backroads!!! nature and rural shit in general are best in moderation, and your driver is too cute to be out this late someplace someone might be inclined to tell him he's got 'purty lips'. (He KnOWs OK).

your ride's a bespoke black tesla, couple years old and with couple dings. probably blasting t swift or doja cat and/or saweetie.

unless it's creeping along slowly in silence with an EMF reader hanging out the window.

m/m for shippy but gen is <3. ocs also <3 ]

if you don't mind crossmedium

[ifightmonsters]

[If the headlights are on, they'll catch the back of his trench coat and baseball cap as he determinedly marches along the shoulder of the highway. If they're off, along with that whole creeping thing, what's visible is a subtle blue glow emanating from just in front of him.

The 'cute' occurs to him in a distant sort of way, but it's kind of superseded by the device that's chilling outside the window. Which will start going off the closer it gets to where his walking has slowed down on the side of the road. When approached, he's got a peculiar wrought silver dish in his hand, the surface of which is gently glowing.

It gets tucked out of sight and his hands pushed into his coat pockets as he peers into the window with a look like he's already decided this guy is a new friend. Or at the very least, the best thing he's seen all day.]

Care to help a guy get back to civilization?