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cursedcontent2022-08-20 11:49 am
cursedmods) wrote in cursedcontent2022-08-20 11:49 am
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TEST DRIVE MEME #1
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.Roller Rink
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.
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.Mallrats
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.
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.Extra Info
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.
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.
steve harrington | stranger things
[ Steve wakes up with a start — and a groan. It's sudden and a bit groggy and he's definitely disoriented, assuming he's in at least like three different places at once: his own bed, the RV, or some dream he still has to wake up from. But it's when he opens his eyes and stares up at the ceiling, heart still pounding in his chest, that he tilts his head and sees you. The room looking like it does doesn't seem to faze him in the least, like he's perfectly used to the way the décor is presented. If anything, it's sharing a room with a stranger that has him on edge. ]
Jesus Christ.
[ Whether you're staring back, or you have yet to wake up, it doesn't really matter, because either way he ... probably shouldn't be here. And he's remembering these ... snippets of a conversation. Someone speaking with him, something about a capital-C Curse ... ah, jeez.
He scrubs at his face. ]
Hey — uh. This is gonna be kind of a weird question, but you didn't just wake up from the wildest dream, did you? Talking to someone who called themselves the Mayor?
[ ... and once he's calmed down, and you've calmed down, it's time to get out of here. Not one to immediately jump to reading instructions, manuals, or really important letters, Steve makes a beeline towards the door, twisting the knob and making attempts to pull it open. ]
What the hell? The door won't open.
[ Thank you, Captain Obvious.
He turns to look in your direction. Clearly you're going to be the brains of this outfit and hopefully you've read the letter — congrats on your promotion in Team Cursed. ]
What now?
●●● MALL RATS — ;
[ The last time Steve Harrington was at a mall had been Starcourt, and while it started out kind of okay, save for the fact that sailor hats ruin everything, things kind of took a turn for the worst, real fast. There were Russians trying to open gates to the Upside Down, and there was torture and being drugged, and thinking he was actually going to die before a giant goo-monster made of people showed up and properly destroyed the place. ]
I mean, it's fine. [ #JustHawkinsThings, right?
He'll happily take the lead on wandering the mall, pausing to examine some of the shoes, or a shirt, or something that reminds him a little of some of the people he knows from Hawkins. Like the dopey cap that reminds him of Dustin, or suspenders that are definitely something Robin would wear. ] We had a mall just like this back home — with the stores and the food court. Whatever, it's not a big deal. But I refuse to work at that Polar Ice Cream place, okay? In fact, I'm gonna avoid that place all together.
[ You can always ask why, it's not like any of the stuff he's been through is a secret or anything. ]
Also? A hundred bucks isn't going to get us very far.
●●● WILDCARD — ;
[ ooc: steve is set from somewhere post-season 3, vaguely season 4-ish (haven't figured out exact canon points yet).
if none of the above vibes, leave your own prompt here! or mix up and alter one of the above prompts as you see fit, i'm easy peasy. feel free to PM me to plot something out! i'm down for anything and everything. lets cause some trouble. ✌ ]
blood offering;
they've done their introductions, he's flatly he doesn't give a shit about this mayor person (his exact words may have been 'what do i care what some asshole like that has to say?') and now he is staring at the door like it owes him lunch money.
ichigo has not done the assignment. the letter lays unopened on the dresser. he lifts one foot and kicks the door — it rattles the wall and the door in its hinges, but it doesn't budge. and the power behind it... definitely only human.
he scrubs a hand through his hair and, angrily, ）
Ah, what the hell! I'm tired of this place! You, Steve, wasn't it? You sure that Mayor guy didn't say anything else?
（ he... was not paying attention in his own dream. par for the course. ）
no subject
Steve shakes his head. ]
No — no, I don't think so. [ And the letter remains untouched by all in this room, an obvious solution to a problem they're both exerting too much force at.
There's an exasperated huff as he tries to think back on what he'd been told. ]
There was just some stuff about curses. Oh! [ He remembers something. ] Oh — hey, okay, okay, so to get home, we just need to beat the Curse. No telling how long that's gonna take though, but maybe there's a clue in here.
[ Maybe the Curse is like, some metaphor for the door. He's really firing all synapses here. ]
no subject
clues, huh.
sure would be nice if ishida was here to do the math on that one — strategy has never really been his strongest point (and let it not be said he's unaware of that particular flaw). but, dutifully, he starts feeling along the wall, knocking along the wood as if looking for the struts.
when that yields nothing, he moves a nightstand (letter whomst?) and when there's nothing behind it but a shitty yellowed outlet from whence snakes the cord for an ancient lamp, he makes an annoyed noise and then just. picks up one end of the bed.
that letter? still ignored. ）
Hey, you. Look under the bed.
（ yes. genius. surely the answer lies there. ）
no subject
Steve looks from the guy who introduced himself as 'Kurosaki' to the bed being lifted up by its skirts, and shrugs, accepting this as his fate. ]
Yeah. Yeah, okay.
[ So he does just that, gets to his hands and knees and everything and takes a peek around the underside of the bed where the carpet is its freshest, boldest colour from years of being in shadow. ]
Well, the good news is that the carpet is a dark salmon-red. The bad news ... nothing like a key or anything.
[ He gets back up, any and all letter-type objects being woefully neglected. ]
Maybe we've gotta call Room Service?
no subject
（ it's okay, steve, he would have said that about any idea he didn't come up with himself right now, and probably at least half of whatever he did manage himself. but he is now studying the phone.
he drops the bed (not on steve, at least) and dusts his hands off like he just touched something gross (look, he knows what goes on in hotels, all right? how often do these things get properly cleaned?
but the hamster wheel is now properly turning. the little hamster is doing its best with its stubby little legs, okay. running, running... oops, it did a faceplant, but never fear, this hamster is as stubborn as he is and soon it's back in its little wheel.
finally, ichigo flings an arm out dramatically and points at the phone directly. ）
Let's try it.
（ by which he means steve. ）
no subject
[ He lets out an exasperated sigh. This guy is starting to remind him of a certain bossy little shithead (endearingly), only they look to be around the same age, and yeah, okay, he doesn't mind doing the thing, taking initiative, whatever.
So Steve picks up the receiver and hits the button for the front desk, and then puts it to his ear expecting ... well, literally anything. ]
Huh.
[ He hits another button. And then another, like he expects that to do the trick. He checks the length of the phone's line to make sure the whole damned thing is connected at all, which, you know, might seem obvious but it's worth a check anyway, right, but nothing comes out from the other side.
It's silence. ]
Shit. Phone's dead.
no subject
he puts his head in his hands for a few seconds, trying to think. smoke does not, in fact, escape from his ears, but it's a near thing. fingers curl and tighten in a violent shock of orange hair, and then he drops his hands away with an annoyed noise of disgust. ）
Okay. We just need to put our heads together. We're in a room, we both had this weird freakin' dream, we can't just bust out with force. There's got to be something here, some sort of key.
（ or a time limit. he's reminded almost uncomfortably of that girl's dollhouse fullbring — but if it's anything like that, they might have to fight. this guy seems like a normal human — even without reiatsu, ichigo just doesn't think of himself as being one of them anymore. he's got too many things warring for genetic supremacy in his blood, whether it's quincy or hollow or shinigami or whatever the hell else. but he makes the decision right then and there — even if that is the key, he's not going to touch the guy. ）
Ah, for fuck's sake —
（ he gets up and just straight-up kicks the nightstand over, which makes the letter flutter to the floor. he looks at it for a moment, and then picks it up. he makes a face at it, and then holds it out. ）
Do you read English? I'm shit at it.
no subject
[ Steve accepts the held out letter and starts to unfold it of its contents, half-wondering whether reading hotel junkmail might just be a waste of time. But it's the best clue they've got, and maybe it'll give them something — anything — to go on: a proper phone number, maybe a contact name, advice ...
Oh.
Well.
Shit. ]
Good morning and welcome ... blah, blah, blah ... okay: Fear not, the door will open easily if you offer a bit of blood.
Wait.
Seriously?
[ He finishes reading the rest of the letter aloud and with increasing incredulity. He almost regrets them ever discovering this thing because now that he knows how to get them out of here, he's got a pretty bad feeling about it. Like, this can't be good. Anything to do with offering up ones blood never is. ]
cw for shounen dumbass disease (self-injury)
（ said in the absolute deadpan of someone who's accustomed to far heftier costs than that. he doesn't have anything sharp on him, except — well, he's in his civilian clothes, and without thinking too much about it, he pulls his belt out of his pants, flips the prong of the buckle out, and stabs it right through his hand.
there were surely easier ways to do that, but does he care? no. no he does not. pain tolerance level: shounen protag used to being run through with swords.
the belt gets tossed on the bed afterwards and, cupping his uninjured hand under the other one to catch the blood, he marches right over to the door and smears the blood on it. that's 'offering', right? ）
What the hell, do we have to say 'open sesame' too?
（ oh. well. it worked. ichigo at least has the presence of mind to rip a strip off his shirt and wrap it around his hand helpfully (when your father is a doctor you think you'd care a tiny bit more about infection, but nope, not he). ）
no subject
[ There's a sluggish moment between Steve putting the letter down to watching Kurosaki move his hands down to his waist when he thinks the guy is going to pants himself. For what reason? Who the hell knows.
But no. It's freakin' worse than that. The belt is removed and then there's blood, and then said belt is being thrown aside as his roomie heads straight for the door to press his palm to its surface. Like this is totally normal.
This is totally not normal!
It takes another moment before everything catches up with his brain and Steve rushes towards man and door and watches him bandage his hand up. Like it was no big deal. Not only was that extremely crazy impressive ('metal', Eddie might say), but it was just plain and simple crazy. ]
Dude!
no subject
（ 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.
Mallrats
If the dream hadn't been enough warning, the blood sucking door would have been a hair-raising tip off. She's in a foreign land with foreign forces, surrounded by strangers and possibly? Maybe, sort of, even if every fibre of her being is screaming "Impossible! Impossible!", even if the implications stretch farther than she can imagine? She might have gone back in time.
She's only half-listening to the boy's ramblings, eyes darting here and there and spotting relic upon relic. He seemed mild-mannered company so she thought she'd endure it for the time being, but he says nothing useful at all. He's treating this like some lazy Saturday stroll. The ice cream parlour comment has her rolling her eyes.]
Wh-why? Did some kid get sick and puke all over you?
[Perhaps ungracious, but there were worse places to work than a sweet shop. He needs a reality check if a part-time job for numbskulls can send him running.
Then he starts in on the money. Fukawa's scowl falters. She looks down at the gift card, turning it back to front.]
What? B-but...Well, how would I know that?! I can't convert money in my head! [Even if they sat on par, the American Dollar ran on a different metric than the Yen. Fukawa grimaces and grips the card tight. It's the only currency she's got, it can't be wasted under any circumstance.] And how can you be sure? It's c-clearly some old timey set up they have here. Maybe a hundred dollars is worth more now than it would b-be normally.
no subject
Not that he's totally cool with any of this either, especially the bit where he's got a goddamned Curse hanging over his head and he hasn't run into anyone he knows from home so he's got the whole 'utterly alone' thing happening, but this isn't packs of demogorgons or Mindflayers or Vecna (yet) so, you know: priorities.
And it helps that the familiarity of a mall bolsters his confidence a little, makes him feel like if anyone's got an idea of how to navigate this place, it's him. ]
Oh man, let me tell you — kids puking up ice cream sucked, but that was the least of my problems.
[ Probably another story for another time though. He flips his gift card over, as though he pauses to examine the fine-print. ]
This place looks a lot like where I'm from. [ Old-timey? Please! It's the future! (Or his present.) They've got so much going for them. ] And if it is ... I mean, yeah, you can probably work your way through the mall — grab a new wardrobe, shoes, food ... but how long do we have here? Could be weeks. Months.
[ ... years.
Well, shit, that's a sobering thought. ]
no subject
Oh? What then? Girl trouble? [She snorts, rolling her eyes.] I'll j-just bet it was. You totally blew it with some girl who worked there, didn't you?
[She assumes too much, but hey. Teenagers. If there was one thing on their mind...
Besides that, the way he insists this place looks like home to him earns another notch of suspicion. If he lived somewhere safe enough to have a damn mall with an ice cream shop he's got to be from a more innocent time. Or, regrettably, from "another world". That she has to take such absolute drivel seriously now is enough to make her gag.
Anyway.]
Ugh! D-don't even say that aloud! You might will it into coming true. [She hasn't got months. Who does? She has to get home, curse or no curse.] If we're st-stuck here any longer than a few days we'll have to get jobs. We'll have no choice. But for now, I. Um.
[She stops up short. They've come up to a clothing store, nothing too fancy. "Ruby's"? Nothing she knows of course, but it could be worth a look.
After all, her outdated uniform is decidedly worse for wear.]
no subject
[ Well, it partly is.
And it's also partly true even if the circumstances are really weird and off-base and he'd struck out with a hell of a lot more patrons coming to the shop for undisclosed reasons. (The uniform. It was 100% the uniform. It messed with his perfectly sculpted hair, which is his best feature, thank you very much.)
But he can ease into the whole 'monsters taking over a small town' thing later. ]
Yeah. [ He lets out an exhale, thinking of how he'd just started a new gig at the video store too. Can he include that in his new resume? But more importantly: ] You'll need new clothes. Where are you from, anyway? Or is 'when' a better question?
Gently ballparks a year
[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?
no subject
Still, it probably is better to talk about this kinda stuff over the rest of it. Even if most of it is embarrassing as hell. ]
The hat ruined my best feature.
[ Hands instinctively go up to his hair, which is looking especially at its peak today, actually. He's hoping he'll find equivalent, if not identical products to keep this coif looking at its best.
It doesn't seem to matter anyhow. Especially when she's looking at him weirdly. Okay, yeah, uhh ... moving on, then. ]
I dunno, they're not so bad — the shoulder pads.
no subject
[The rifling has stopped. She is leveling him with a stare that could cleave even the most bloated ego in two.]
...Well, at l-least you're aware of it.
[Best feature, sure. It had nothing on the impeccable texture of Byakuya-sama's coiffure. How many times had she dreamed of slipping her fingers through those golden tresses, to brush them away from his noble brow. Lean in close, lips quivering, hearts beating as one....
Wait where was she? Shoulder pads yes, shoulder pads.]
Are you k-kidding me? If I put this on I'd look like a triangle! [Perhaps an exaggeration, but she is rather petite in all dimensions. It's a style best left to bolder frames and bigger hips. Fukawa scoffs and shoves it back in.]
Of course this all looks normal to you. Stuff like this is way out of fashion. N-no one would be caught dead in it back home!
mall rats
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.