cursedcontent | TEST DRIVE MEME #1

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TEST DRIVE MEME #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

The test drive meme and the IC intro log will have the same prompts, and threads between two accepted characters can count as game canon.

The first prompt is flexible: technically you're supposed to be with one other person, but if you want to do larger groups that's fine.

Rooms at the Saturn Motel initially contain two beds for the prompt, but upon leaving and returning characters will find that they all have their own rooms with one bed. If you want a roommate, someone better be ready to sleep on the floor or snuggle up! The room doesn't have to look exactly like the reference image as long as it's not too fancy and suitably dated.

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[ This is what it's all about. Someone speaking his enthusiasm-based language.

Some of the people in this skating circle seem bored or disinterested! Unfathomable. A waste of a really fun party. ]

Yeah, it's great. Always good to have a healthy outlet!

[ One day he'll get home, un-cursed, and he'll just have to take some of the fun ideas he's running into here with him. There is no reality where he considers that roller skating on a very large sailing vessel might not be a practical measure. Right now it's just nice to have a nice time what with everything being... what it is.

Case in point! This nice young lady! Stede avoids another impromptu meeting with the ground and tries to imagine the idea of doing this backwards. It's terrifying. So good on her, she's extremely brave. ]

And if it's not a bother, I wouldn't say no to some pointers. No obligation, though! I'm getting my practice in either way!

[ And what is practice if not half the battle? ]

What in the thunderdome…?

[There's another thing Daryl looks like, too - a kind of person it's perfectly in-line with the normality of places to see dirty and going whole ham on some mall court food from a gift certificate like he hasn't had a good meal in months.

Generally speaking those people are found on street corners screaming at God. Wren would have assumed that too except they're pretty sure they caught sight of him at the roller-rink before, at least briefly, enough to figure he's one of the displaced people like they are.

So, carefully, with no sudden movements and making certain to avoid coming from a blind spot, Wren approaches Daryl and stops just outside of reach.

Unlike him they look completely in-place for a teenager, they're only ten years out of date for this era after all. ]

Hey - are you alright? You … look like you've been through a lot lately.

(OOC: also still figuring out curse stuff myself- I watched a few seasons of Walking Dead a while ago so I'm in 'I have approximate knowledge of many things' territory)

[Fukawa raises one brow to her hairline. What a cavalier attitude to take. Was he really so clueless about the mess they were in? At his age?

Despicable. If he wasn't putting on a so-called brave face for her sake, then he was a pure idiot.]

Th-they probably drugged us. Isn't that obvious? [That's more or less what happened last time. And even if the demands are mild, Fukawa can see too many parallels for comfort. It's only a matter of time before it becomes Kill Your Friends if You Want to Escape.

That weird dream had to be a smokeshow. There's no such thing as curses, and oddball or not she can't believe this guy is anything more than a hapless weirdo, just as lost as she. There's nothing supernatural about it. Just a run of the mill psychopath with time to kill and more resources than you could shake a stick at. End of story.]

Good. [She folds her arms, suddenly feeling quite pleased with herself. Usually people just told her to shut up, close her mouth so her breath wouldn't poison them, move fifty metres back before they call security. (The last two were usually Togami.) Perhaps she's gained an air of authority after all she's been through? Wouldn't that be delicious.] I'll check the bathroom. I doubt th-there's anything worth using here, but you can t-take another look.

[With that, she slinks into the bathroom.

After some small time rummaging, she emerges with a travel-sized bottle of shampoo and conditioner each.]

I'm n-not sure which has the better consistency, I mixed them with a little water to help, but. Here. [She shoves the bottles at Stede.] You do it.

I do and I don't.

[And that's one I don't too many and Rodney frowns, looking over at the stranger.]

Why? What's wrong with it?

Ha! Really? How so? [She shoots him a grin, though it's an unpleasant one. It's the face of someone who's found the right button to push.] Please, spare me. The v-vast majority of men are total losers when it comes to the opposite sex. There's no use pretending your situation is special. Admit it! You m-made a complete fool of yourself, didn't you?

[Pot, kettle. She always feels better about being a social flop if she's not the only reject suck to the bottom of the barrel.

They drift into the store just as he swaps the spotlight back on her. Suddenly she's much less comfortable.]

Japan. [She says sharply. And stiffly. Weird that he couldn't figure that out.

She glances at him sideways, flicking aimlessly through a rack of shirts. She had some notoriety before and she's infamous now, but it occurs to her that all those preconceived notions may not apply here. If he has no idea who she is (what she is), if everyone really was pulled from the endless gamut of time and space, then maybe she has a clean slate. A real chance at redemption. No suspicious glares, no threats, no denied privileges. The two of them are on equal footing.

And that doesn't just count for her record. She doesn't have to be a disgusting loser here. It's her chance at a makeover. A new impression, a new life!

Before, you know, she goes back to keep fixing her old one. But still! The future just may turn out bright after all.

The smile she wears now leans more pleasant, if still secretive. And unseemly. There's an odd blush taking over her cheeks. It implies nothing chaste.]

And it's 2014. So yes, th-this place practically looks like a theme park to me. Are th-these shoulder pads? [She makes such a face at the blouse in question.] Whoever thought that was a g-good idea?

Edited 2022-08-22 13:05 (UTC)

Of course you could.

[Rodney thoroughly rolls his eyes before glancing over, acknowledging Ronon's arrival and general being here with a huff and a scowl.]

And just where have you been anyway, huh? Sure could have used you earlier for the whole blood sacrifice situation? Your timing sucks.

[Translation: Oh God, he is so glad to see you and that you are here and that you are okay, don't go away, this place gives him the creeps. Some tension in his shoulders eases, hinting further at the underlying relief which will not now nor ever be put into words.

He looks down at the adapter disapprovingly, back up at him.]

It's not a flail, Spartacus. What are you going to do, bludgeon someone to death with it?

[And because he regrets the question as soon as it leaves his mouth, he quickly raises a finger.]

Don't answer that.

Maybe they assume that, oh, I don't know, people around here have at least a shred of common sense.

[Apparently not. But at least the guy is not in immediate danger of mutilating or electrocuting himself. Good. Rescue breathing is so, so, so, so high on the list he absolutely does not want to do today. Or ever.]

Well, I fully intend on doing so. With all of my limbs intact. Unlike you, apparently.

[He's about to turn away and mind his own business when the guy keeps talking to him.]

It's a toaster, not a handbag. What do you expect it to do, match your eyes?

I owe you? For what? I'm not the one who brought us here!

[He thinks. He hopes. He wonders, which projects was he working on these past days? There's so many. He'll have to go through them one by one, figure out if there was a chance they were connected to something that could have caused... this.

But first things first, they have to get out of this room. Sheppard touches the door and he pauses in his thoughts, watching the door expectantly. Waits. Reaches out to pull at the handle.]

Huh.

[A beat.]

That didn't do it? Are you sure you cut it right?

[The bang gets Nancy's eyes to shoot straight open. This was... safe to say, not the East End in 1838. And the man that made the large noise was not someone she recognized. Yes, a gruff man covered in blood and dirt is not exactly something she's not used to. She keeps quiet, watching him from where she pretends to stay asleep.

From where she lays, she can see him draw his knife, and--

She sits up and tells him:] I'm up. [She looks worse for wear, truthfully; she's bruised, dirty and oh there's blood on her dress, too. But she's not thinking about that. She's thinking about the strange man with the knife. Having to do something.

The last thing she remembers was Bill above her...

She looks at who she assumes to be her jailer. She looks at him franticly, never taking her eyes off the knife.] Look, I don't know who you are, what Bill told you, but I swear to you, he's got it all wrong. If he'd just listen to me, I would have told him!

Edited 2022-08-22 14:06 (UTC)

( peter's doing a very good job of pretending he's still asleep. he thinks that if he ignores the noise and the talking for long enough, it will stop and/or go away.

he's ignoring, too, the fact that he doesn't recognise the voice. he thinks there's a very small chance that it could be someone they'd picked up in the area-of-space-previously-home-to-knowhere because flark knows he hadn't been paying enough attention nor been sober enough to have memorised each face.

(nope, that wasn't true, he knows it wasn't true but it's a fleetingly tantalising thought, because he really doesn't think that he likes the alternative.)

still, he holds his breath and counts to ten.

there's a brief lull in the talking and he exhales in relief, getting ready to once again welcome the soothing embrace of sleep when the talking shifts abruptly into yelling.

he rolls onto his back and stares up towards the ceiling from underneath the duvet.

(is this guy serious?)

it's not even that he's tired because he feels — remarkably — great. refreshed. and he's not sure why.

that's the really weird part. )

Would you flarking stop?

( he snaps, irritability, frustration and resignation all rolled into one. ) I was— ( he starts, features pulled together into a scowl. he doesn't get much further than that when rodney snaps his fingers at him and peter's expression shifts, generalised annoyance giving way to specific aggravation, but rodney — kind of — gets what he's after: peter is both awake and up. )

Don't.

( the request for blood hasn't registered yet. )

[For better and worse, determination is one of his greatest strengths.]

I never really went to any of these when I was a kid...

[Maybe once, but it was so long ago that he'd forgotten. Deuce had probably become obsessed with Magic Wheels around that time too, so things like roller blades had gone out the window.]

But yeah, that would be great. Though I warn you, sometimes I'm a really slow learner.

[As in he's really slow sometimes. But if this person wants to help him, Deuce will gladly accept.]

I mean, being creative is way easier than being athletic. I can be creative.

[ Even though he's watching when Wanda throws the clock, Eddie still winces at the sound of it, bits and pieces falling into the sink below and onto the floor. The mirror is relatively unscathed, only a crack splitting it but not shattering it. ]

I kinda thought mirrors were more breakable than this. Lemme look.

[ Eddie begins picking away at the pieces of alarm clock now in the sink, trying to spot something sharp enough to cut with. Unfortunately for him he feels it pierce his palm before he sees it, and he hisses as he retracts his hand. A line of blood blooms from the gash in the center of his palm, and he holds it out to grimace at Wanda. ]

Think this'll be enough? 'Cause it hurts like a bitch.

[Nell is not the only dead girl to find herself waking up alive. Nancy is alive, the broken ribs and her skull both mended. She's got a blistering headache, and one eye is nearly swollen shut. Like Nell, bruising around her neck is evident, but it's not rope. It's hands.

She rubs her head, hunching forward on the bed. So many questions. So many bloody questions.

But she's going to start by answering the first one.]

Yeah, suppose so. Is this... Is this hell?

Thank you. That's the best news I've heard all day, you know, with all the being trapped in a different universe and time and potentially suffering from a deadly, horrific curse... What's up with that, huh?

[Yeah. Considering what he knows of this place so far? He'll take living for now. It's quite high on his priority list, actually? And it's nice to get professional confirmation.

When she lets go, Rodney inspects his hand and flexes his fingers again. He's still a bit tentative but for now seems reassured.]

And food sounds great, I'm starving. Could be all of that blood loss, I should probably, uh, get something sugary, some orange juice...

[Okay, almost reassured. Fortunately, he doesn't continue the litany because they are about to fix that little problem too. Instead he offers his good hand to her.]

Name's McKay. Dr. Rodney McKay.

Oh thank god, [Nancy actually says out-loud, when she sees a man in clothing that looks at least similar to what she might encounter if, say, she happened to be a fancy lady instead of a grown-up street urchin. Her dress is large, but not unwieldy, and she's got it hiked up slightly with one arm so she can see what her feet are doing.]

Sorry- I suppose it is exhilarating. Maybe it has something to do with the year? That these roller skates are common in... the 1900s?

[She shuffles along, holding on to the wall as well. There's a nice little line going of people who don't know what the hell they're doing.]

I think it's supposed to be like ice skating? Have you ever done that?

It's fine.

（ his tone isn't dismissive when he says it, more reassuring as he goes back to get his belt. rather than thread it back through the loops of his pants, he just wraps it a few times around the non-stabbed hand. you know. in case he has to punch someone.

look, he's a hooligan. ）

Come on, let's go. Try to stay behind me. We have no idea what we're going to find out there.

[Sorry, Peter. This never stops.

... Well, maybe on the rare occasion that he is actually unconscious which is decidedly not now.

But he does pull his hand back, simply because he doesn't know enough about this guy to push his luck that much. Instead, he crosses his arms, his voice taking on an acerbic tone. Don't you don't at him. He's the guy dishing out the don't. Or he would be if Peter were a part of his team. Which he is not. Which only sours his mood further.]

Oh yes, excuse me that one of us is actually taking initiative and trying to resolve this mystery slash hostage situation.

[Which is honestly not so different from his day job.]

Well?

[Tapping his foot. He's waiting.]

[Like ice skating her butt! She thought the wheels would work like the blades they'd had for their shoes in the winter, but she'd thought wrong, apparently, sending an already very bruised girl to the floor, skirts spread out around her. She takes a moment to consider her position, sighs, and starts to try to push herself up again. It doesn't work.

Not until a man comes up next to her, and offers a hand.] That obvious, yeah?

[She looks at him, frowning just slightly. He's incredibly handsome, and she likes the way he smiles. About Bill's age, she wouldn't wonder, with a surprising amount of grace. She likes his smile. She takes his hand, hoisting herself up on to two feet.]

Yeah, I suppose you've just got to- [And he's down for the count. Nancy gives a small noise of surprise and now it's her turn to reach down toward him.] Here, let's get you up and you can keep telling me how easy it is.

Everyone has to start somewhere.

[And even if skate parties were cheap field trips, there were still kids even poorer than Wren who couldn't go, so yeah. No Judgement there.]

Here, see how I've got my feet? Same distance apart as your shoulders, crouch down a bit for better balance - it's way easier to keep balance while you're moving even a little bit instead of holding still. Skates want to move.

[and yeah, Wren will just recount their own lessons from what they remember when they were second grade, holding an arm out to Deuce whenever he looks wobbly in case he wants a second balance point. If nothing else, Wren figures they can make a lap for him with the lessons alone.]

There's a sound emanating from the back of Rodney's throat, part indignation, part reluctance, part exertion. This is hard.

But he actually listens, trying to follow John's instructions and shuffles. Shuffles. Shuffles. Granted, it looks like someone on socks shimmying over soapy ground but somehow he manages to keep upright... ish. With some windmilling and swaying back and forth. And a lot - a lot - of knee bending.

"Hey, uh, here's a thought. How about we keep this..."

He starts gesturing between them, almost falls and quickly stops until he regains balance again.

"... between ourselves. It just. Seems like a very unnecessary detail that will only bloat the mission reports..."

It's not? [Nancy had tried to find a man who looked about her age, and had some sort of idea what people in this place wore. She stuck out like a sore thumb in her Victorian get-up, even if you ignored the blood. And she found a friendly fellow. Hey, friendly fellow. Meet Nancy.

Another Nancy.]

It's more'n I've ever had at one time, I think. Granted, I once took a gold pocket-watch from a fellow, and that might have been more. I don't know how dollars work, only pounds.

And I've got even less idea about modern fashion.

Yeah, and you seem to be doing such a great d'ast job of it, ( he mutters, roughly pushing the duvet away and disentangling himself. he's dressed in exactly what he fell asleep in: a long-sleeved black t-shirt that's rumpled and crinkled from several straight days of wear, cargo pants, and muted grey socks that were presumably at one point white.

in spite of the really good night's (question mark) sleep he's just had, he's dishevelled in the way that only someone who's Going Through Some Shit might be — his hair, curling softly at the ends, desperately needs a cut and his facial hair is in the midst of being undecided if it's just stubble or if peter's, like, in the process of growing an actual beard.

he runs a hand through his hair, brushing it away from his eyes and pointedly, deliberately turning his attention away from rodney. he's definitely not part of the guardians, definitely wasn't amongst the group he and groot had picked up at the outskirts of space. flarking great.

peter reads the letter whilst rodney waits.

peter reads the letter and finds he can't concentrate, finds he can't stop himself from glancing at rodney's foot every other word, because the tapping is like nails on a chalkboard and peter wonders whether it's deliberate or if this is just how he is.

(is it more or less annoying than groot and his goddamn sawdust? peter's not sure, it's definitely close.) )

Unless your plan is 'annoy Quill until he flarking murders me', because you are doing a great job of that one.

( it's uttered with a little less venom and a whole lot more 'I am too tired for this right now' that signifies, at least, that he's not even remotely serious about doing anything to rodney. )

[ V was more or less in the same boat: he needed the capacity to listen to music, even if he had no what a Walkman was or what was meant by a tape. He laced up - silently thanking his childhood that he even knew how to tie laces - and he'd spent some time just trying to get his bearings by moving around out of the rink (with mixed success).

He'd managed to build up the courage to force himself around this oval that was his new personal hell but stopped when he saw a young man absolutely fall on his ass. He considered just leaving the guy to his own devices and getting started on his own personal journey but it could have just as easily been him in the kid's position. It would cost him nothing to help, and it would delay the embarrassment of trying to move around the rink.

So, he went over and the young man would find one hand extended his way. There were tattooed lines crawled up V's arm as if his arm were to somehow open up in some way - details extended even to the sides of his fingers at each joint. To top it all off, he had black polished fingernails as well, and similar lines tattooed over his face and down the front of his neck. ]

Definitely not the only one. I missed the group meet where everyone learned too. You okay?

blood offering.

That was definitely a little too much baijiu.

[because nick wakes with a headache that would stop a horse, and he doesn't recognize this room, and he especially doesn't remember who the sleeping person in the other bed is.

and what the hell was that dream?

whatever. maybe he's a jerk, but he really doesn't like getting caught up in a lot of drama, so he's definitely going to try to sneak out before the other person wakes up. only that goes about as well as most things in his life have. luck is not always on nick gant's side, which leaves him sighing heavily and discovering the note when there's nothing left to do but take a look around the cheap motel room for a way out.]

Blood...? [his brow furrows, and after he finishes reading he actually goes to wake the other person up.] Hey, do you know anything about this?

mallrats.

[yeah, he's going straight to the food court before the mayor changes their mind and wants their gift card back. he even glances back over his shoulder like he thinks someone might be coming for him right now. it makes him look a little paranoid, but old habits die hard.

it also means that he's not watching where he's going.]

Whoa, sorry.

[he sidesteps just in time, and he would've just kept right on going. but his nose tells him that he's reached his destination.

now for the hard part. pizza? chinese?]

A salad bar? Seriously?

wildcard.

[follow your heart.]

You owe me for me having to do the blood sacrifice thing and probably selling my soul to a demon! If I die, I'm going to haunt you instead.

[He's just saying, he's seen those movies.]

That didn't...what, do they want more!?

[Just his luck. He makes a face, frowning, and smears more blood on it this time. And this time, it's more than a handful.]

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TEST DRIVE MEME #1

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Mallrats

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Gently ballparks a year

the SOUND i just made at that username

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cw: blood

blood offering

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roller rink

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roller rink

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mall rats

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nick gant | push

cw: blood