But we just might make this up

[actually112]

Who| Aang and YOU
What| Aang has obtained a bunch of stickers. He now must terrorize everyone with them.
Where| All over the Tribute Center, especially in D4
When| Post-Arena, pre-Crowning
Warnings/Notes| Small children being goofy, references to past underage drinking.

Aang is never drinking again. The vodka, which had been his only source of liquid for much of the last week of the arena, had made him so sick that even thinking about it makes him nauseous. Never again.

After about a day of recovering from the lingering effects of dying (probably all psychosomatic, but he just feels sick after he dies in arenas), he discovers a store with what feels like a million varieties of stickers. He knows what he must do.

He must combat everyone's post-arena blues with stickers.

So all through the Tribute Center, a little boy is putting stickers on people. Usually, he's subtle. He bumps past them in the hall and puts stickers on their arms or hands. In certain areas, he perches on beams across the ceiling and dangles down when people come past him so he can put a sticker on their face or their hair. Sometimes, he'll just be talking to someone when he casually takes out a sticker and puts it on their face.

Yes, he is having fun with this.

Comments

[revocation]

Cullen is heading for the training room for his daily routine with the dummies when he feels something stick in his hair - an unusual sensation, for someone as meticulous about his hair as he is. Reaching up, he feels for it and finally pulls out what looks like a brightly-colored bit of paper with some kind of adhesive on the back.

"What in the Maker's name...?"

[needlebearer]

Arya's been spending most of her time since coming back from the Arena going between the training area, where she's not improving her skills so much as just taking her frustration out on the training dummy, and her own room in the District Ten suites, where she can make a fort out of her blankets and eat lots of ice cream and try to avoid the oddness of the Capitol and her newfound fame, which she still feels rather uncomfortable with. It's as she's making her daily trip back up to her room that she feels something press against her, and when she looks down there's something bright stuck to her arm. She looks at it in confusion, then looks around for who might have attached it to her.

[ka_sera_sera]

Roland steps away from the counter, leaving the food on the stove to its own devices in order to feel over whatever it is that's now stuck on his face. "What's this in aid of?"

It feels a little like the gems they'd stuck over his back at Signless' crowning. He picks a fingernail under one edge, trying to tell how long it'll be before the thing comes off. "Teamed up with the stylists for something?" It's hard to resist the urge to go crosseyed trying to get a look at it. He does not quite manage.

lol this log is so cute

[lex_paciferat]

Quintus is just making his way back to the elevators, absorbed in tapping through messages on his phone, when he feels a light touch on his arm. Absently thinking it's an insect or something, he reaches up to brush his sleeve, then stops as he feels the sticker.

Peeling it off of his uniform, he smiles slightly and glances around in search of the culprit. "Is this a present for me?"

[crabmunicator]

Being short, the ceiling is not something Karkat usually concerns himself with. It's up there; he's down here. They generally don't meet. And yet, for all that may be the case, it's a bit hard to miss when something bumps at his horns. Oh, it would be a different case for sure if they were anything resembling a respectable size; but as his ancestor has proved, he's doomed to forever have a short set. It means he's not used to bumping them on much of anything.

In other words, as soon as he feels the pressure of fingers pushing stickers onto his harmless, rounded horn tips, Karkat's gaze shoots up.

"What the fuck?"

That's a child - a human child unless the markings and baldness are natural - and he's dangling from the ceiling.

His hands whisk to his horns, feeling for what's different. "What did you do to me?! How did you get up there?" And a second later, he pulls off a pair of stickers, which he raises accusingly up at Aang. "I'm holding you responsible for this!"

[shieldofrohan]

Éowyn isn't the most observant person in the world, but she's very, very on edge in this place. So, when she feels someone bump against her, her hand twitches a little towards the knife she fastened to her belt (not with any intent of using it offensively, but as a kind of talisman; she's always carried a knife, and it was starting to distress her not having one). She stalls that instinct pretty effectively, but then spots the colourful... whatever-it-is, stuck to her arm.

She is very, very cautious in peeling it off. Given how strange and bloodthirsty this place is, it wouldn't surprise her if it exploded or something. She's less cautious in confronting the boy who bumped into her. "What is this?" she demands, striding after him and fixing him with a thoroughly ungentle glare.

[sizeofyourbaggage]

Sam’s a little bit lost in his own thoughts as he walks through the halls of the Tribute Center, so the sudden touch to the top of his head comes as a surprise. He tenses without really meaning to, sliding into a more defensive stance as he reaches up - and comes away with a sticker. His brows furrow in confusion, he relaxes, a small smile tugging at his lips as he looks up.

He recognizes the kid perched up there as the one he’s seen a bit with Bucky, and that makes his smile get even bigger. “Acrobat or bird?” he asks, reaching up to press the sticker to his cheek.

[shiftingurbulls]

El didn't readily notice the sticker on his arm until he spots a light blue spot on it. "Huh?" This sticker wasn't there before, unless he didn't remember putting it on. It's not until he spots the strange bald boy with a head tattoo...

He shrugged for a moment and gave the boy a wave, "Hi!"

[tookthewheel]

Bucky twists as soon as he registers the gentle tap of sound as Aang places a sticker on his metal arm, looking up from the bench he's sat on to the climbing rigging that goes on up from the walls to the ceiling of the training level. He'd been lifting weights when the attack came.

"Flowers?" he asks, reaching up and poking Aang squarely in the forehead with the index finger of his right hand in retaliation, unless the little monkey squirms away out of his reach first.