cursedrp | IC INTRO #1

IC INTRO #1

A Blood Offering

You wake up cozy in bed at the Saturn Motel. As you observe the room you may realize that it looks a little dated. Or, perhaps from your point of view the lamp and TV are wildly futuristic. Or, like Goldilocks, it may seem just right: close to the world you just left behind. Either way, you just had a very strange dream (see the arrival scenario) and now you're here. And you're not alone: there's a bed next to yours and someone else is waking up just like you are.

You can chat for a while if you like, but if you try to leave you'll find the door is firmly locked and no amount of kicking, punching, or hitting it with an object will do you any good. Instead, there's a letter on the nightstand which reads:

"Good morning and welcome to your new home!

You may be wondering why you're trapped in this room. Fear not, the door will open easily if you offer a bit of blood. More than a few drops but not enough to be a serious wound. A handprint's worth will do, let's say, and it only needs to come from one of you.

I'll let you sort that out yourselves. See you on the other side.

Sincerely,
The Mayor"

And indeed, a handprint's worth of blood pressed against the door will unlock it and let you out into the world. Do you volunteer your own blood? Do you take it from the other person by force? It's up to you! But there's no food in here, so you better figure it out eventually.

Roller Rink

As a celebration of your new lives here (and an apology for the whole blood offering thing - they were just testing something out, really) the Mayor has invited everyone to the Crazy Eight Roller Rink for a private, after-hours party.

Attendance isn't mandatory, but it is heavily encouraged so that you can meet your fellow Cursed and know who's in on the whole secret. It'll help you down the line at some point if your Curse gets out of control and you need someone to wrangle you.

As a reward, everyone who shows up and completes at least one lap around the roller rink (you must be wearing skates, but you can crawl the lap if you can't get the hang of them) will receive a free walkman with a mystery tape inside. The color, style, and mystery tape your character gets are up to you.

Mallrats

Everyone loves the mall! Right? Right! And this group of newcomers is lucky enough to be here for the White Pines Mall Grand Opening celebration! Feel free to walk around the mall and partake in sales galore, check out the attractions, or just get to know the layout of the place.

The Mayor has given everyone a gift card for $100 that can be used anywhere in the mall as long as they attend the Grand Opening.

They also strongly suggest that you familiarize yourself with the mall and its layout, just in case you ever get stuck there for a while and have to compete with others for food and resources. But that probably won't happen.

Extra Info

All the same guidelines from the TDM still apply. You can continue your TDM threads here or start new ones! And of course, you can start making your own prompts in the log or network communities at your leisure.

Our first event will be going up in about a week!

Please do not add character tags to any posts just yet, we'll add them to this post manually.

Threaded | Flat

☞ 001. ROLLER ROAST !

Don't worry, you look so cool right now.

[ Deely's hanging out by the side of the rink, elbows on the low wall that surrounds it, watching everyone who's decided to throw caution to the wind, hop in there and start rolling. Deely herself has no intention of joining them, at least not yet; she'd much rather hang out on the sidelines, slowly erode people's self-confidence by yelling stuff at them, and possibly witness a few pratfalls. Much more fun. ]

I bet nobody else can tell it's your first time. You're barely shaking at all!

☞ 002. TAKE A WALK(MAN) ON THE WILD SIDE !

[ Ugh, okay, fine, so she went around the rink once. The Walkman was enough of a draw that Deely strapped on some skates and slid out onto the rink for a single lap. Lucky for her she didn't fall on her ass – she's a child of the 90s, she practically grew up in rollerskates – but the second she's done she's rolling right over to collect her prize and never do this again.

Which is how she ends up here, sitting by the side of the rink and looking distinctly subdued now that she's actually listened to the tape. Anyone who'd been subject to her, let's be frank, bullying from earlier might be surprised to see her hunched forward, elbows on her knees, the Walkman held loose in her grip and a faraway look on her face.

If she's not disturbed by anyone else, eventually she'll take the initiative with anyone nearby, inhaling sharply. The single breath seems to reinvigorate her, and she grins – with utter conviction, considering she's an actress and all, or at least she used to be – and shakes the Walkman a little. ]

You get one of these? What was your tape? [ And she dips into a low, gravelly voice, which is obviously supposed to be an impression of Jigsaw. ] Hello. I want to play a game.

☞ 003. PINBALL WIZARD !

[ Pinball was always Deely's favourite game in an arcade. She always thought she was good at it, but this fucking machine is out for blood. At this point it's basically a money pit into which Deely is pouring that $100 she was so graciously given for showing up – but it's kind of like gambling, in that she simply can't seem to stop. When someone comes up to the machine, whether it's to stand in line or just to watch, she doesn't look up from the ball bouncing around inside. ]

There's like a million other games in this place, why don't you make like a bee and— Aw, shit! [ Her last ball drops into the hole and disappears, and the machine plays a frankly depressing little stinger. ] That was your fault.

☞ 005. FASHION SHOW !

Oh, wow, this place is awesome.

[ Judging by the tone of Deely's voice, it's pretty clear she thinks exactly the opposite as she's standing outside Oblivion, which looks to her like Hot Topic before it started selling Disney merch. She has her arms folded as she stares at the window display, taking in the mannequin wearing a trenchcoat, a studded belt and a pair of black pants so tight they look painted on. ]

I've always wanted to look like Neo from The Matrix trying to sneak into an R-rated movie.

☞ 005. WILDCARD !

[ hit me up

crowders if you wanna do something else, or if we had something going on the TDM we can 100% continue it here. ]

Blood Offering

[ Harley wakes with a start. Her brain is a mess of chaos and broken parts, but she knows it, and that dream was definitely not something crafted by her own subconscious. She's more curious than concerned as she looks around the room. It's a far cry better than most places she finds herself, which goes a long way toward speedrunning the five stages of interdimensional kidnapping and landing at acceptance in record time. She flops back in bed and stretches luxuriously, and it's only then that the letter catches her eye.

She reads it a couple times. The corners of her mouth turn down and her brows furrow as she does some counting on her fingers. ]

Damn, got another week until my cycle. Don't s'pose you happen to have any convenient open wounds at the moment?

Roller Rink

[ First of all, Harley is not giving these skates back. She may just skate everywhere she needs to go from now on.

Second, she has to forcibly remind herself that this is not roller derby and she should not slam into other skaters. Not even the ones that are going too slow or getting in her way or just kind of look like it would be funny to see them fall down.

But, third, just because she isn't doing violence on purpose doesn't mean she isn't trailing chaos in her wake. Struggling adults might find themselves getting a slap on the rear as she whizzes past, or tripped up when she "accidentally" sticks a foot in their path. Smoking a cigarette or wearing a cute accessory? She'll just snatch that right up as she goes and spin away with a gleeful cackle.

Harley isn't as outright devious to the younger crowd, and she isn't ... exactly going out of her way to help. That's not her style and she doesn't even like kids, but. If some little brat still getting their skate-legs happens to trip, she might coincidentally decide to take a break and coincidentally position herself so that the newbie has plenty of space to collect themselves and get back on their feet. Not that Harley even noticed. Of course. ]

Mallrats

[ Harley doesn't recognize any of the stores, but it doesn't matter. All malls are the same at their core, and she was a semi-feral 90s kid. This is definitely familiar territory even though the window dressing is new.

She thoroughly explores every store. Pawing through racks, picking things up and putting them down in the wrong place whenever something new catches her eye, staff shooting her looks of disdain (Paradiso) or hope of a sure sale (Oblivion). She doesn't actually buy anything, though. No, Harley is scouting out the best places to shoplift.

But just because she's on a mission doesn't mean she won't insert herself into literally anyone else's business. She tends to pop up and offer unsolicited opinions whenever someone else lingers over an item. ]

That's cute! You should try it!

» blood & rats (previously on—)

( original prompts for A Blood Offering and Mallrats are over on the TDM. i'm happy to continue any or pick something up from those if you're interested! )

» mallrats (extended cut)

[ After slowly oozing back together while sitting in the food court - only mild, trauma-induced dissociation while consuming an icee, no big deal - Daryl has reconciled with the reality that he needs to appear more like a regular weirdo and not a "might need to call the police" weirdo. He is not anyone's favorite customer in the reasonably priced clothes store, despite his stoic demeanor; he buys some tolerable shirts and a new pair of jeans, and changes in the dressing room. There's nothing to be done about the state of his kutte or jacket, and he still definitely smells like weeks-old sweat and crusting-over gore, but any improvement at this state is a huge one.

He still looks out of place. Dirty and exhausted, sullenly allowing a perplexed co-ed sell him a pair of boots. You'd never know it by the blank look on his face, but he's actually incredibly amused by this; Timberlands are affordable again, in the 1980s. This $100 is doing some work.

Later, he does a few rounds, awkwardly carrying a shopping bag and checking out every available store without walking inside. A strange lurker. He even does the same outside, potentially making at least one rent-a-cop nervous, but he never drifts near access doors or anyone's cars. Just looking, gaze towards the perimeter. ]

» back at the ranch (saturn motel)

laundry—

[ A new day, waking up in almost the same place. Alone in his assigned room, and with no self-harm requirement to get out. He feels something cold sink in his stomach with how settled and real it seems.

Tough shit, he tells himself. Daryl has things to do. His most intense impulse is to fuck off immediately, but he can't— if one of his people shows up, this'll be where. He doesn't even know if he's done a proper headcount of everyone here, yet, or if there's more information to be gleaned about the "Mayor" (ugh, like he needs another one of those, leaving an awful taste in his mouth thinking of the Governor). He has to at least try to stick around and not get kicked out. And so, freshly scrubbed, he drags all of his gross clothes to the laundry room.

Then he just stares at it for a while.

Cut to: Daryl walking back to the front desk to ask for quarters to use the washing machine. Daryl walking back to the laundry room. Daryl walking back to the front desk to ask for more quarters to get detergent out of the vending machine. Daryl walking back to the laundry room. Daryl walking back to his actual room, then back to the laundry room, having forgotten his shoes, which also have to go in. Looking increasingly murderous the entire time (or, depending on your point of view, like an increasingly despondent basset hound).

He has not removed the long, skinny sizing sticker from the back of his new forest green plaid shirt. ]

poolside—

[ At last free of the clutches of laundry, Daryl has posted up in the pool enclosure on the shady side. On one lounge chair, he's laid out his jacket and vest, out of direct sunlight. It'd be better for them to dry inside, but it's not like he keeps his shit in museum-quality condition anyway, and it just... really needs to air out. His pre-outbreak habit of deep cleaning his leathers every year or so has fallen off sharply. There may not be anything he can do to fully restore the kutte, at least— it may bleed forever, each time it's wiped down.

The man himself sits in an adjacent lounge chair, fully dressed, cheap gas station sunglasses perched on his face. He's also acquired cigarettes and a packet of Twizzlers, and is making headway on those while he finally inspects the Walkman from the roller rink. (A straggler, late in the evening; he can skate just fine, what do you take him for. He just didn't want to be in a crowd.) He'd grabbed it blindly on his way out the door, and now, its mild color surprises him. The yellow hue reminds him of lemonade or banana splits, instead of the eye-searing highlighter tone he might expect.

Daryl taps his cigarette to one side (nary an ash tray in sight) and flips the case open to look at the cassette inside, wondering. ]

» special features (wildcard)

( ooc; if you're interested in anything different, hit me up! i'm equally fine with prose or action. )

Edited 2022-09-03 03:17 (UTC)

[ vasiliy's a former stalin-era NKVD interrogator who played the 'good cop' to coerce prisoners into signing false confessions by acting as though he was speaking to their best interest, executed in 1940 when nikolai yezhov's appointees were purged - who then woke up in the middle of nowhere in the winter of 2015, alive, unscathed, and with documentation claiming he was born in 1985. in the canonpoint i'm pulling him from he's been out in the world for 3 years and has started to come to grips with what he did/started to unlearn stalinism, and is an EMT in chicago in an attempt to feel like he's balancing some of the cosmic harm he did. he comes with warnings for references to the yezhovshchina, torture, etc.; his curse is starting out with randomly bleeding hands as a manifestation of his guilt. it's worth noting that he speaks english despite it being his second language instead of defaulting to russian and letting the world handle it because he knows that his patterns of speaking are anachronistic for someone ostensibly born in the 80s. info here, permissions here. ]

1. LIFE IN A NORTHERN TOWN
gold rush mini golf.

[ There's not a whole lot to do while he's in the fire department's hiring process, so Vasiliy finds himself exploring more often than not—getting the lay of the land in a hostile country, when it comes down to it. Mini golf isn't something he'd even heard of before arriving on American soil last year, and he's convinced, now that he's actually played it, that he was missing out on absolutely nothing. Again the golf ball overshoots the plastic mouth of the longhorn cow that comprises this hole, which is going about as well as all the other holes before it. He huffs to himself and watches it for a moment, hands on his hips. ]

What stupid game. For people with nothing better to do.

2. DON'T SAY THAT YOU LOVE ME
around town | cw: xenophobia mentions, smoking.

[ There's no need for most of these people to learn English. For whatever reason, their environment takes the liberty of translating, which Vasiliy is sure of because he hears everything in the same language he thinks in—but he doesn't exactly have a choice in the matter, not when leaning on the bizarre quality to this world would make it immediately apparent that he wasn't born in 1985. You talk like an old man, everyone had told him back in Russia, and they were unknowingly correct. He is, chronologically speaking, old, even if the past 85 years were spent...(where, exactly? Rotting? in some alternate dimension? He's not particularly sure about that one and doesn't care to think about it).

But speaking in an attempt at modern English, never having known any other variant of it, raises its own issue. People in 2018 didn't like him much because he was an immigrant with a limited grasp on their language and trying meant absolutely nothing to 95% of them, and also because, apparently, every Russian in the country was still under suspicion for having "meddled" in their clearly staged election. (Meddle. A word he learned quickly.) People here don't like him or at least don't trust him because he's obviously an enemy national, with the exception of a few liberals he's encountered, who make it very clear they're not judging him in a way that also chafes.

So he finds a bookstore and crouches down to read the spines in the minuscule bottom-shelf section on learning English, dwarfed on either side by more fashionable languages (French, Italian) and more theoretically useful ones (Spanish, Russian—the irony.) The accent is something he needs to resolve. The more Americanized he seems, the easier things will be for him, and the less suspicious of him they'll. They're already shitting their pants over the KGB. No telling what they'd do to a former officer in the NKVD, someone predating the muzzle Khrushchev put on Russia's secret services. He sees a prison cell, the Hague, quiet deportation to be executed a second time on Russian soil if he's "lucky".

Vasiliy doesn't want to die, so here he is.

a.
It's possible for your character to catch him scanning through different books to see if they're good enough to justify the price, which might strike some as a little odd to see in a place where the work of translation is done for them.

b.
If they're not the type to strike up conversation with a stranger, fear not! There's a situation-mandated option: once he's chosen and paid, he sits at one of the tables, lights a cigarette, and starts to read—the only spot that's available if your character wants to enjoy their purchase in the in-store cafe once he's taken one of the two is right beside him, his peculiar choice of reading material, and a freshly lit Belomorkanal. ]

3. WILDCARD

[ vasiliy's likely to be exploring the place/gathering as much information as he can, with his hands intermittently bleeding despite a lack of visible cuts. if you'd like a starter or want to plot feel free to hit me up here or send a pp to

bluehellgazette! i'll be tossing up continuations for his tdm threads throughout the weekend. ]

[ carryin over from the TDM like professionals (sans blood offering, which is no longer ota). ]

roller rink.

[ Hmm. On the one hand, time has proven that this is maybe not a huge nightmare or elaborate mental construction of his own design. All looks very real, feels very real, he has no idea what's going on half the time, terrifying, horrifying, confusing, complete and utter lack of familiar faces or circumstance, steep learning curve only eased by other people in the same boat and the locals being positive he's from another country.

Which isn't wrong, technically?

On the other hand, it's not Stede's first go at an overnight transition into a lifestyle with which he has zero familiarity or experience, so at least there's that. No, wait. That's barely a positive. So really on the other hand is that there are ways to have fun here. Nothing's as good as what he had going for him back home, of course. But this whole... thing... is definitely happening. Colors! Music! People, he guesses!

Stede shows up, because what else has he even got to do. He gets the roller skates on, he makes it to the rink. He falls down a lot and makes a lot of cartoonish sounds about it until he winds up clinging to the outer barrier and inching his way along. (Which he is ready and prepared to repeatedly describe as "just getting my sea legs".) ]

It's really exhilarating in here, isn't it! [ That's genuine. Never mind how acquainted he's becoming with the floor, or his full inability to comprehend synth music, or the fact that when he gets his walkman he has no idea what to even do with it. Stede looks no less than maniacally pleased about the weird fucking time he's having right now.

Big gremlin energy. ]

Gosh, and a lot of people are awfully good at this already. [ Maybe including whoever he's talking to. Or maybe not, considering his "holding onto something and shuffling" position in the rink. ] I should've asked about lessons.

mallrats.

[ Finally... Stede's area of expertise. Shopping.

He thinks this might actually be his new favorite place. Not ever, seeing how he didn't ask to come here and wants to go back home, but like, maybe his favorite place in this specific town. There's all kinds of neat stuff.

He mostly spends time trying to figure out clothes. It's not a terrible budget to work with, depending on the shop. He has no idea what's "in" around these parts, but it's apparently not like what he's used to? Oh no... how dreadful... to have to try on a lot of things and figure out what he likes... to start building a wardrobe...

Mental and emotional stress whomst. He has pastels and vibrant hues to coordinate. Be wary lest ye be asked for opinions. Or watch in real-time while he learns that bartering is no longer the done thing in retail environs.

The mall is also a good place to try to get a social lay of the land in general, though, it turns out. Get acclimated. That's a really fancy way to say catch Stede sat on a bench and blatantly people-watching while like, teens have messy breakups in the food court or people gossip about their work drama or whatever. Quiet people-watching used to be his whole non-reading hobby of choice.

Or, last but not least, catch him in the appliance store trying to learn how to use half of the shit he keeps encountering in day-to-day situations that most people seem to already be used to. Look, if his first response to trying to figure out a microwave was screaming when it beeped, that's his business. But it turns out there are instruction manuals and demonstrations and a lot of statistics that he has no idea what they mean?

He might be about to stick his hand into a display toaster to get the lay of the land. And if that doesn't explain how likely it is that Stede will be banned from returning to this store by the end of the day, nothing else will explain it. ]

wildcard.

[ or yeah, up for hashing out other scenarios/prompts/etc ✌️ feel free to throw whatever or hmu for plotting! ]

1. A Blood Offering
Wren wakes up from the nightmare gasping, sitting up and looking around the unfamiliar room as confusion sets in. It does look dated to Wren - but not by a whole lot. The same way a dentist's office looks dated, that only has a chance to update its decor every decade or so. Looking like the 80s from the perspective of the late 90s just means 'oh, it's cheap'. Shifting on the bed, they get their legs under them a moment later and are relieved to find they're not unsteady when they stand.

That's when they notice the note.

Reading it over, they of course have to try the handle first, see it locked. Alright. Situation assessed, they rather awkwardly finally give some attention to the other person in the room with them.

"... I'll do it," they say, giving a nod to the note. "Just help me find something sharp enough."

2. Roller-rink
Their powers don't work. It's a weird feeling.

Wren's used the time between leaving the room and the skate party to find someplace secret to try just about everything, but they're weaker, they can't fly, and they almost got hit by a car when crossing the street so that means the danger sense is shot too.

No need to hide some secret identity then. They're just a normal teenager. Somehow it doesn't feel like what they really wanted, though.

Also, tying shoelaces with one hand bandaged from getting out of the room earlier is more difficult than it should be. Not that Wren would actually ask for help, just continue to bullheadedly push forward with one bandaged hand at half speed in the booths near the rink, swearing under their breath.

3. Mallrats
The walkman came with a cassette for Coal Miner's Daughter: Original Motion Picture Soundtrack in it. Sissy Spacek singing some of the best country western available. At least, not being a country fan in the least, Wren assumes that's the case.

It's not painful to listen to or anything, but it sure as hell isn't Wren's style either. So while they'd been intending to save all of that $100 gift certificate, well… Not dying of boredom and bad music is worth breaking into it a little bit.

So as they stand in La Pointe Music Shop, they ask the occasional other customer that comes by-

"Day at the Races or Night at the Opera? If you could get only one."

Sure they could afford both, but they're trying really hard to not get rid of the only potential money they have available at the moment.

4.Mapping
It wasn't like Wren had come from a crisis back home, they didn't need time to rest and recover… but even if they had, honestly? They'd probably be doing this kinda thing anyway.

This kind of thing being, of course, trying to figure out exactly what the limits of their makeshift prison is. There have to be limits. You don't just drop someone in a whole world and say go wild, right? Somewhere, there's going to be a wall of some kind. Like that movie with David Bowie and the puppets, when the heroine was in the ballroom that only seemed infinite until she found the edge of it.

Wren just has to find the edge of this seemingly infinite ballroom.

They're thankfully no stranger to blending in, smiling at any passers by who stop to wonder what some youth with a map and a rapidly marked up composition notebook could be doing as they walk about town. A cheerful offer of 'I'm writing a paper on local history, would you be free to answer a few questions-?' usually shoos people off, but Wren still has a stock of typical 'how long have you lived here, did your family live here?' type questions from when they were in school and actually had to write such papers ready to go on the off chance they do in fact find someone feeling helpful.

Anyone else who's an outsider though absolutely gets a wave and a quietly asked question of if they've noticed anything strange so far…aside from the obvious.

((Happy to match format if you'd prefer action, feel free to hmu at kels#8496 on discord or

oncemorewithfeeling for plotting, too!))

1 / roller rink

[ This was stupid. Roller rinks were stupid. What are they, ten years old? He'd rather be hanging out in the back alley behind this place right now, in all honesty. But a free walkman was a free walkman, and lord knows he can't abide by someone thinking he's scared or can't skate if he sits it out.

He's not exactly...good at this. Good enough not to fall on his ass, sure, but he's barreling through without much regard for the other patrons. ]

Coming through! [ He shouts from just behind someone else, and that's their only warning that he's about to crash right into them if they don't swerve out of the way ASAP. ]

2 / mallrats (outside the mall)

[ Malls don't exactly hold a lot of positive memories for Billy right now. On one hand, he knows that this isn't Starcourt, and on the off chance that thing that was inside of him is here, he can't feel it anymore.

But gift card or no, he can't manage to drag himself inside. There's this lingering, irrational fear that as soon as those doors open he's going to be right back where he was before he got dragged here. So instead, he just leans up against the wall near the entrance with his arms crossed, a lit cigarette between his lips.

He's just taking a smoke break, that's all. He'll go inside after this cigarette is done. Or maybe just one more. ]

wildcard

[ anything goes, feel free to hit me up at dandymott for plotting.

all prompts are continued from here, minus the first one as I'm keeping the thread with Steve and Eddie canon for that. if I continue our thread and you'd rather start fresh just let me know and I'll delete it! ]

Of course I'm happy to see you!

( said like it's the most natural thing in the world, a grin stretching across her face because he's here and he's wearing that smile she remembers so well, despite only seeing it a handful of times. the same one he flashed her in the woods that had eased some of the tightness in her chest, the anxiety that had been growing in her for days.

she only has a couple genuinely good memories from before that dream, before waking up here, and he's in almost all of them. )

It's not an awful theory, but I think you're judging yourself a little harshly. I don't think you'd ever go to hell either.

( despite all the horrible things she hears from her parents about "that munson weirdo". )

Right, okay.

( slowly, far too slowly, the racing of her heart begins to slow back into an almost normal pace. almost normal because absolutely nothing about this is normal. but neither was that dream, or the things she's been seeing for the last week. nightmares that don't go away when she wakes up. )

You don't have to ( a hard swallow against the dryness of her throat. ) You don't have to do it yourself. The blood thing, I mean.

( the corners of her mouth curl up into a weak smile, one that disappears just as quickly as it forms. ) I can help.

Edited 2022-09-05 09:16 (UTC)

No, I've never.. ( calming by slow degrees, she shakes her head slightly. like this is still the dream and maybe she can just wake herself up from within it. except even before all this, she's been having nightmares. ones that don't go away when she opens her eyes. ) I'm from Indiana. We don't really...I've never seen anything like this.

( oh chrissy. if only you knew.

this other person is calm, though. clearly trying to help even despite chrissy's near hysterics of only a minute or so ago, so she tries to do the same. one slow, deep breath. another. and her voice isn't quite so shaky anymore. )

Sorry. I'm Chrissy. It's nice to meet you.

( manners too ingrained to disappear, no matter how afraid she is. )

SATURN CAFE

To say Alec is going stir-crazy in the small town with no chaos so far (other than the weirdness of existence several years before his birth, and the fact that they somehow made him human without even taking off his runes) is an understatement. He's never been so bored in his life. He's deeply regretting every single time he felt overwhelmed running the Institute and secretly wished for a simpler life, where he didn't have to worry about politics and monsters and whatever absolute mountain of paperwork that week's apocalypse was going to drop onto his desk.

Right now, all he's got to fret about is the slightly burnt coffee that the Saturn Cafe tends to pump out. It's free so he shouldn't really complain, but he can't help the prissy look of disgust that steals across his face every time he takes a sip. Not that it stops him from downing a whole cup, and then accepting the fresh pot from the bored waitress at his table when it becomes clear that he's just going to keep sitting there and downing mug after mug of the stuff.

If anyone else comes in for the free food on offer and looks interested in conversation, Alec will beat down his natural urge to avoid socialization with the masses in order to offer up the coffee pot, because all the cafe's employees seem to have wandered off into the back for the moment. "It's terrible," he says, deadpan: clearly, a glowing endorsement.

AROUND TOWN

Lacking any better outlets (and the training facilities he's accustomed to), Alec goes running a lot during the first few weeks they're all in town to ~~blow off steam~~ stay in shape. He keeps his bow and arrows on him out of years and years of habit, and they make for a fairly easy identifier of being someone who probably wasn't born and raised in White Pines, despite the fact that he's been forced by lack of choice or resources to break down and wear typical 1980s workout clothes (HELP). Though he didn't go for an iconic crop top because he's a Coward, he can still be found basically anywhere in town in the eye-searing neon palette of the decade, looking intensely washed out by his loose tank top and athletic short shorts, with a smattering of strange black symbols tattooed on his arms, shoulders and neck.

He occasionally stops to cool down and stretch, or maybe drink from a water fountain, wherever those happen to be.

WILDCARD

[Want to tag but neither of those work for you? Hit me up in PM, on discord at Cris#4369, or on the ooc intro meme with ideas and I'll write a different starter for you! Of write one of your own, I'm down for anything.]

i. sharp dressed man;

[ Back home, a hundred dollars wouldn't have gotten Steve very far. A fresh pair of wayfarers, a new jacket, boom - a hundred bucks, done and done. He never would have even thought about it. Not that he was a spender or bad with money, it just never came from his own pocket.

Here, though, he's quickly getting a crash course in the affordability of things. So as much as Paradiso would be his usual type of store, he's in Ruby's, putting together some semblance of an outfit so he's got options. In his hands is the pinnacle of mid-80s prep fashion, straight leg jeans, a polo shirt, a crew neck sweater in a vibrant yet pastel colour. He's loading them up to take to the dressing room where he'll try them on and then try to do the math to see what he can afford, when a sweater slips off the pile and lands at someone's feet. ]

Oh - Sorry -

[ And as he leans over to pick up the sweater, a bunch of other clothes spill out on to the floor. ]

ii. part of your world;

[ Ruby's wasn't exactly a shopping spree, but Steve at least feels a little bitter with a couple new things in a bag in his hand. As he walks through the mall, though, he feels like he doesn't really have to leave. Like, where does he need to be? Back at the motel? It's not even nice enough right now to enjoy the pool, so, sure, he may as well hang out here a bit longer.

Eventually he finds himself at Flick's, and then he's got a massive drink and bag of popcorn and he's wandering into one of the screenings without paying much attention to the poster outside. Turns out it's a Disney thing. Not Steve's thing, but he's had a couple girlfriends that were into that sort of thing so he's seen a couple movies here and there. Not really ever by choice, though. It's fine, he's here, he has snacks, he might as well settle in and watch this cartoon about some mermaid in love with a guy or whatever.

The theatre's mostly empty save for him, sitting in the back with his feet up on the seat in front of him. Feel free to join him. He's not that invested in the story. Promise. ]

iii. saturn's rings;

[ The motel isn't so bad. Now that they don't need to bleed to leave, it's as good a place as any to stay. It's free, it's clean, there's a TV and a bathroom and a bed. It's small, but it's not a plaid box with matching plaid curtains so Steve's probably traded up.

And, more importantly, the free food. Steve likes to load up on things to bring back to his hotel room to eat while he watches TV, and he'll definitely do it tonight, but for now he's going to sit at the cafe like a regular person. He doesn't really know anyone here (save for the other Hawkins residents) and figures people also like to eat, so it's as good a place as any to start meeting people. At least to get familiar with the people he might be seeing as he goes to and from his motel room.

Sitting at a table with a bowl of soup in front of him and a sandwich in hand, Steve's got his elbows on the table, taking a bite from the sandwich as he watches the cafe door. When someone walks in, he waves. ]

Hey.

[ Doesn't matter if he knows you or not. ]

iv. wildcard;

Choose your own adventure! Any prompt is good with me! If you want to continue any TDM threads, let me know, save for any Blood Offering threads as I'll be keeping Steve's thread with Eddie and Billy for that as game canon.

[Copy/pasted from the TDM, unless they're not. Except for the waking up, as that's been claimed by Daryl.]

--

Roller Rink
[Nancy's still in her blood-stained dress when she wins her prize for an awkward half-walk around the rink. A walkman. All she really sees when she gets it is a square box and some ugly orange earmuffs that are connected to the square by a string. Copying those she sees about her, she puts the muffs on, then turns the "man" over and over in her hands as she sits at the edge of the rink. Inside of the small window, she can make out the name Wood Mac. Whatever that is.]

Another machine in a smaller machine? [she wonders out-loud, shaking the walkman.] Daryl's right, they do get smaller.

Mallrats
[It's just like the market, she's been told. Just bigger. Stores stacked upon stores and indoors. What makes it stranger is the money she's been given. A little strange card she's told is worth $100. If a dollar is anything like a pound, she's bloody fucking rich is what she is! Who just gives out money?

She wants to immediately spend it all. Buy herself some new clothes that look a bit more like what everyone here seems to be wearing, instead of a bloody corset. She likes the trousers women are wearing freely, now. Maybe she'd buy some. Or- or even better yet, find out what smells so deliciously of cinnamon and dough.

She approaches someone chowing down on what looks to be the most beautiful food she's ever seen in her life.] Excuse me, what is that? [She points at the food]

Wild Card
[you know what to do]

Blood Offering

He'd taken this bargain for his son. That was what he had to keep his mind on as he looked around. If he did this, no matter what had happened in that elevator, he could go back - or at least, that was his understanding. Gregory had his doubts. It wasn't as if he put much stock in such things, but even he knew of the Kurain mediums and their supposed ability to channel spirits of the dead. And if he'd died--

No. No, he wanted to be there in person for his son. Not channeled through some medium, if it was possible at all. There was the possibility that he truly was dead. A great possibility, at that. But if there was even a hint that he could get back, that Miles wouldn't be alone, it behooved him to take the opportunity given.

So what was a bit of blood in the face of that. He'd already struck an impossible bargain. Even if this was some swear in blood, how could it be worse than what he'd already promised if it would help him get back to his boy.

"Have you seen anything that would suffice to draw the necessary amount of blood?" he asked, note still in hand, though the question was obviously to the other person in the room.

Roller Rink

If the hotel room had reminded him of his twenties, the roller rink reminded him of his youth. Greg wasn't sure he still knew how to roller skate, but more important was looking around at those gathered, trying to take in the lay of the land. Who else, besides him, was here and cursed in this way? What was the nature of this place? Was it the afterlife, if such a thing existed, or would this have more evidence to point to a possible return to life?

What he did know, now, having looked around, was that he stuck out like a sore thumb. There were a few others around his age, but his mode of dress was far from the norm. Nobody else, it seemed, had shown up in a suit that fit in at a courthouse.

Which likely meant he was the only attorney present. Interesting. It gave him a place to start.

With that on his mind, Greg walked up to the railing. It would be interesting, he thought, to try to skate. After all, he was supposed to work on lifting this supposed curse. How could he do that? It seemed wrong to do something as frivolous as skate while he was supposed to be getting cured of this curse.

Yet, who knew how handy that tape player could be. Such things often found their purpose at the oddest times. And the tape... He'd have to see what was recorded there. Or, more likely, what he could record onto it when the time came.

Gregory decided, then, and sat down to trade in his wing-tipped dress shoes for a set of skates. Time to find out if he could still skate. In the name of collecting evidence. Even if he would be the only suited man on the floor.

Mallrats

A $100 gift card to use at this mall. That, Gregory thought, would definitely be useful. He'd need to see if there were any law books at the bookstore. Any office supplies. And, of course, the necessities: toiletries, socks, a change of clothes... Admittedly, he'd have to decide which was most important.

The library would probably be a better place for legal research, but some office supplies and clothing... That would be a more likely find. In fact, as he looked around he found that he couldn't have flipped a coin without finding a clothing store of some variety. Brows lowered, he started looking for a directory, but before that could happen, he spotted someone he thought he remembered from the roller rink.

"Excuse me," he said, letting the words act as an introduction. He bowed his head for a long moment, a holdover from home, and asked, "Have you seen a store in this mall selling office supplies? Paper, pens, folders, that sort of thing?"

Threaded | Flat

QUESTIONS

deely newberg 🍿 original

no subject

daryl dixon | the walking dead ( ota 💚 )

vasiliy yegorovich ardankin | original — historical/(secret) revenant

stede bonnet | our flag means death (ota)

Wren Fulton | OC

Billy Hargrove | Stranger Things