❰ it takes robin longer to wake up than most. she's asleep, suddenly feeling much more well-rested than usual. waking up, it's evident why: the motel bed is much more comfortable than her usual mattress, that hasn't been switched out in probably close to 10 years, pulled out of the back of an old van and who knows how old it was from then.
groggily, she blinks at her surroundings. this is in line with her own time period but...she's been in a hotel before for traveling band competitions, but it's been a while. her parents weren't in any position to be vacationing folk...so when did she show up here? how? sitting up straight, totally awake now, the atmosphere isn't threatening. nothing feels off except her switch in setting. after a cursory glance around for clues, robin spots the letter, reads it...
oh. hmm. nevermind, something is super off.
testing the theory espoused within the letter, she jumps out of bed and tries to open the door. pushing, pulling, jiggling the handle. nope, nothing. robin turns and leans against it, breath catching in her throat. so it is locked, which means that the rest of the letter has a high probability of being true. ❱
So, this...uh. Kind of an extreme episode of Candid Camera, huh? ❰ her laugh is nervous, flipping her letter around to showcase it's what she's referencing. robin isn't typically claustrophobic, but suddenly the walls seem to be pushing in ever so slightly... ❱
— roller rink
❰ you might think that clearing a lap around a roller rink seems easy...and for most, it is. despite previously being involved in sports, robin isn't at all the most coordinated person in the world. even standing in roller skates is a chore, so her attempts at wobbling around the rink are...pathetic. most of the time is spent holding the bar around the side, pulling herself forward on shaking legs.
during one attempt to free herself from being stuck on the sidelines, she pushes herself off from the wall with all the confidence she can muster. it's a success!!— for about two seconds. robin is propelled forward a few feet before either:
a) tripping over someone, potentially causing a pile-up b) tripping onto you and shouting: ❱
Shit, shit— I'm so sorry, fuck!
— mallrats
❰ is robin still completely lacking in trust as to what's going on here? yes. is she going to say no to a hundred dollar gift card? absolutely not.
left to her own devices, robin has slid into the alternative clothing store, oblivion. she doesn't know anyone here...but people are still people, and it doesn't mean her guard can be completely down. she's found a wrack of clothes that's far enough in the store that anyone who's actively shopping wouldn't think twice about her being there; no on-lookers from the outside can see her to cast judgment.
one hundred dollars is quite a bit of money, even for alternative clothes, and it's hard to choose something to buy...or maybe she won't buy something, but looking is nice too. one particular selection is a plaid pair of pants in red and black, long enough to just hit the floor on her and tight in the waist with some movement in the trouser legs. robin pulls the option from the wrack, admiring it. she's never worn anything so bold, but god would she like to. ❱
Sick. ❰ it's whispered to herself as she flips the hanger around in her hand, admiring how it has both front and back pockets. pretty sick indeed. ❱
robin buckley ▶ stranger things
❰ it takes robin longer to wake up than most. she's asleep, suddenly feeling much more well-rested than usual. waking up, it's evident why: the motel bed is much more comfortable than her usual mattress, that hasn't been switched out in probably close to 10 years, pulled out of the back of an old van and who knows how old it was from then.
groggily, she blinks at her surroundings. this is in line with her own time period but...she's been in a hotel before for traveling band competitions, but it's been a while. her parents weren't in any position to be vacationing folk...so when did she show up here? how? sitting up straight, totally awake now, the atmosphere isn't threatening. nothing feels off except her switch in setting. after a cursory glance around for clues, robin spots the letter, reads it...
oh. hmm. nevermind, something is super off.
testing the theory espoused within the letter, she jumps out of bed and tries to open the door. pushing, pulling, jiggling the handle. nope, nothing. robin turns and leans against it, breath catching in her throat. so it is locked, which means that the rest of the letter has a high probability of being true. ❱
So, this...uh. Kind of an extreme episode of Candid Camera, huh? ❰ her laugh is nervous, flipping her letter around to showcase it's what she's referencing. robin isn't typically claustrophobic, but suddenly the walls seem to be pushing in ever so slightly... ❱
— roller rink
❰ you might think that clearing a lap around a roller rink seems easy...and for most, it is. despite previously being involved in sports, robin isn't at all the most coordinated person in the world. even standing in roller skates is a chore, so her attempts at wobbling around the rink are...pathetic. most of the time is spent holding the bar around the side, pulling herself forward on shaking legs.
during one attempt to free herself from being stuck on the sidelines, she pushes herself off from the wall with all the confidence she can muster. it's a success!!— for about two seconds. robin is propelled forward a few feet before either:
a) tripping over someone, potentially causing a pile-up
b) tripping onto you and shouting: ❱
Shit, shit— I'm so sorry, fuck!
— mallrats
❰ is robin still completely lacking in trust as to what's going on here? yes. is she going to say no to a hundred dollar gift card? absolutely not.
left to her own devices, robin has slid into the alternative clothing store, oblivion. she doesn't know anyone here...but people are still people, and it doesn't mean her guard can be completely down. she's found a wrack of clothes that's far enough in the store that anyone who's actively shopping wouldn't think twice about her being there; no on-lookers from the outside can see her to cast judgment.
one hundred dollars is quite a bit of money, even for alternative clothes, and it's hard to choose something to buy...or maybe she won't buy something, but looking is nice too. one particular selection is a plaid pair of pants in red and black, long enough to just hit the floor on her and tight in the waist with some movement in the trouser legs. robin pulls the option from the wrack, admiring it. she's never worn anything so bold, but god would she like to. ❱
Sick. ❰ it's whispered to herself as she flips the hanger around in her hand, admiring how it has both front and back pockets. pretty sick indeed. ❱