(September Station Catch-All) I Make My Own Rules

[savingthrows]

CHARACTERS: Eleven & You (Open Starters + Closed TDM Continuations
LOCATION: Various aboard the station
DATE: immediately after arrival + the week leading up to the first mission
CONTENT: Catch-all Log
WARNINGS: potential references to human experimentation, child abuse/neglect. specific CWs in TLs when applicable

[ Top Levels in Comments:
Open: Batteries Needed: Lab & Tech Storage
Open: Abduction of Property: Sunlight Room
Open: Waffles or Bust: Kitchen
Closed: TDM Continuations ]

[ ooc note: default to brackets, but if you prefer prose, feel free to tag in with prose and I'll match format.

If you'd like a closed starter or have a different kind of thread idea for which none of these setups work, feel free to hit me at inkcharm, Discord inkcharm#4573 or send me a PM. ]

Comments

Open: Batteries Needed (Lab & Tech Storage)

[savingthrows]

[ cw: blood, use of telekinetic powers. ]

[ Someone's messing around the Lab & Tech Storage. Following the sound of drawers opening and closing, general rummaging, and things occasionally clattering to the ground, will lead one to find a young girl of roughly 14 years standing by a wall of drawers and random boxes. Her wide brown eyes are set under an increasingly frustrated frown as Eleven glares at an open drawer with a vengeance, clutching what looks like an old fashioned walkie-talkie to her chest. Some of the open drawers are so far above her head it's immediately obvious she couldn't have reached them.

For anyone versed in more or less modern Earth fashion, her shirt is a hideous yellow and black travesty ripped straight from the 80s, the pants are baggy and inoffensive, and her feet are curiously bare. She wears a blue hair tie around her left wrist. Perhaps those things stand out. Perhaps it's the fact that her clothes look like they've only barely dried, oddly wrinkled and with what look like salt crusted on the fabric, like she's taken a dive into an ocean recently, and she looks on the verge of shivering. Perhaps it's the day old bruising on her neck - like large hands closed around it and squeezed, hard. Perhaps it's the fact that blood is running from her nose, slowly darkening and drying on her upper lip. Eleven doesn't appear to be concerned about either.

When someone enters, she freezes, one hand slightly outstretched as if she was about to reach for a drawer. Her eyes narrow at her newfound company before she wipes the blood from her nose, as if only now remembering herself. ]

I need. Batteries.

[ The word comes slowly, almost somber. Eleven taps a finger against the walkie talkie.

And then all the drawers slam shut, rattling the shelving unit. She holds out a hand, not touching the box in front of her, and yet it still upends, spilling its contents on the floor loudly as Eleven kneels and begins digging through the items in search of batteries, uncaring of whatever metal bits and bobs just went tumbling - but given the state of the walkie talkie, though, it should be doubted that batteries will salvage the thing. It might require just a little more technical know how than that. ]

[majorbiotic]

[Whatever purpose Kaidan had in entering the storage area was forgotten the moment he saw the young girl. It isn't her clothes that catches his attention but the bruise on her neck and the blood from her nose. Someone has attacked this girl, and fairly recently. It makes his blood boil in rage. Who would hurt a young girl? And more importantly, are they still on the station so he can find them and kick their ass? Her words derail his train of thought and he looks at the device in her hands. It's unfamiliar to him but it must be really old tech to need batteries.

Before he can form a word, a box tumbles down seemingly on its own. This just got even more interesting. He didn't see a biotic field but that sort of display is exactly the kind of thing he used to do as a kid. Kaidan kneels down near the girl and starts going through the spilled box contents with her]

What kind of batteries does it take?

[savingthrows]

[ The question seems to puzzle Eleven for a moment. ]

... batteries.

[ She shows him the walkie talkie, as if she's unsure what's not to understand about that - she knows there are different sizes, but she doesn't know the names for them. But she's peeled the battery compartment open so he can see what size they need.

Then she holds up her pinkie finger for emphasis. ]

Like that?

Open: Abduction of Property (Sunlight Room)

[savingthrows]

[ Perhaps you've noticed, in the days following the arrival of new people on the station, that some things have gone missing from the supply drop at the teleportation platform, or from the individual rooms - a pillow here, a blanket there, and in case of the supply drop a couple of clothing items. The common room and mess hall are missing a chair or two overnight - with marks on the floor looking suspiciously like someone went through the trouble of dragging them across the station. And while the disappearances of the other items might have been more suspicious, the scuff marks on the ground show exactly where chairs and tables made off to - the tracks lead into the sunlight room.

Following the marks from there, you'll find what appears to be a somewhat poorly constructed blanket fort with an entrance that requires getting on the floor. The construction isn't particularly well made and looks, in fact, as if it might collapse at any given moment. There's candy bar wrappers outside, and a post it note with bad handwriting that spells:

CASTLE
no adults with out eggos

From inside, there's the soft hiss of a walkie talkie's static, then a young girls voice: ]

Mike. Do you... copy? [ Hesitant, as if she's unsure about the words. ] Over. [ Another soft crackle of walkier talkie static, then she seems to notice the shadow of whoever's standing outside: ]

Go. Away.

[ If you would alternatively like to have, by sheer serendipity, found a second walkie talkie tuned to the same frequency, feel free to hear to hear her voice over the walkie talkie instead of finding her in the sunlight room instead. ]

kiiiiiiiiiiiiiid 👀

[spacedisaster]

[ Peter is no stranger to what it feels like to be a kid suddenly lost in a weird, scary alien ship. It's probably because of his own experiences that the missing items and the scratch marks don't go unnoticed by him. Once he follows the tracks and finds the blanket fort, Peter mentally goes 'Ah, there you are' but respects Eleven's request and moves away froplan on leaving completely. Instead, he sits cross-legged on the floor and fidgets with the Zune in his hand, now attached to a small portable speaker.

He's angry too that his suspicions have been confirmed, not because of the missing stuff but because it feels like the universe is playing a sick joke, bringing children here. It's not fair. Keeping his frustration to himself, Peter turns on the Zune and lets it play A-ha's ' Take on me'. Everyone loves a classic, right? Right.

He lets the song go on for a while, chin on the palm of his hand and elbow resting on his knee. When he speaks, Peter's voice is calm and friendly. ]

I used to hide on the vents of the ship when I was little. I was small enough back then, and the aliens who kidnapped me that time didn't have a room like this one in their ship, with an artificial light that shone like the sun. I didn't want to talk to anyone either, not at first. But that was lonely.

[savingthrows]

[ The song is familiar. Eleven doesn't know the name of it, or who sings it, but she has heard it on Hopper's radio sometimes. They danced around the kitchen to it, once, even when Hopper complained about modern music.

There's a rustle from the the blanket fort, Eleven shifting her position. ]

I can talk.

[ It sounds almost a little defensive, and not quite clear if she means she's able to speak, or willing to.

After another drawn out moment: ]

They stole you?

[arc_reactor]

( It's amazing how some solid sleep, a lot of meds, and several days spent at the mercy of both a bossy medical robot and half the Avengers can make a guy feel better– or at least not entirely on the verge of shattering at a moment's notice. Tony's still taking it easy, only leaving the infirmary for short stints he's sure he can manage: shuffling his way to the kitchen, picking up the odd tool he needs from the lab, poking with keen interest at the various settings in the armory, and soaking in the peaceful ambiance of the sunlight room.

His heart lurches to see the makeshift fort. It's somehow perfectly at home in the bucolic setting, the very thing Morgan would have set up herself, relieving them of kitchen stools, spare blankets, and even a spare tomato trellis or two for her purposes. The sign posted on this one makes him smile. That's like, basic Blanket Fort custom, okay, Food For Entry, "Feed Me And Go".

Tony doesn't stick around then- kid deserves their privacy -but that sign and the little fort among the trees stays with him through his coffee. If Morgan were lost, he'd want someone safe to look after her.

The ingredients are all there, a pleasant surprise in light of their location in the middle of space. Managing a meal one-handed isn't an easy task, but Tony actually relishes the challenge, and soon enough he's shuffling back through the grass with a full plate-

-And is promptly told off by a young voice. A young girl's voice, which has the effect of making his heart do a few more flip flops in his chest.

Undeterred, Tony plants his feet and slowly takes a careful knee. )

Oh, my mistake, ( he says airily, making sure the rising steam is floating toward that low entrance, ) Guess these waffles are gonna go to waste.

[savingthrows]

[ Eleven is on a ship full of strange adults. This, per se, does not frighten her. She knows she could kill many of them before they even found a weapon to kill her with. It's a comforting knowledge, not a scary one. But she's already learned that there are kind people here. Bucky showed her around. She hasn't told him about the blanket fort yet. Adults don't always understand and she doesn't always have the words to explain.

Doesn't want to say 'I don't like the rooms, because they're like the lab' to just anybody. Too white, too sterile. She doesn't want to draw a picture with crayons and stick it on the wall to have some color, as if she's back there. As if she's waiting for Papa to touch her head.

She's free - except she's not.

So instead, Eleven is here.

There's an impatient huff, and then she crawls through the entrance, half emerging on her stomach and shooting a judgmental glare at the broken man outside. Careful, Tony - don't crumble under the weight of 14 year old judgment. It's heavy. ]

You sound. Like a trap.

Open: Waffles or Bust (Kitchen)

[savingthrows]

[ cw: mentions of blood, use of psychic powers in one scene. ]

[ There are two scenarios in which you can find Eleven in the kitchen eventually. Strangely enough, both involve an open fridge.

Perhaps you find her using her powers. She's sitting cross-legged on the floor. It's quiet except for the hum of the open fridge behind her. Black cloth is tied around Eleven's head like a blindfold, a thin trickle of blood under her nose. Her hands are neatly folded in her lap, fingers holding the blue hair tie she's usually wearing on her wrist, thumb tracking over it. If your character is quite and stealthy, she does not appear to notice them. If they're not trying to conceal their approach, though, Eleven's head might turn in their direction after a moment. ]

Do you. Want something?

[ If that is not what you encounter, then perhaps you find Eleven another time, standing in front of the open fridge and looking at it with all the skepticism of a 14 year old way in over her head. When approached, she for once looks actually relieved to see someone older than her (by whatever large or small margin), as if it occurs to her that occasionally, other people do have a use even if she's wary of them. ]

There are no. Eggos.

[ It's not always noticable, the way she inserts pauses in the wrong place of a sentence, or has to think a little longer about words than a kid her age should manage. ]

Do you...

[ She pauses, brown eyes flicking up and down the other person, clearly not quite convinced they can actually help. ]

Do you make them?

[respirations]

( When it comes to questions presented to him in weird situations this is definitely up there. Eddie had been coming into the kitchen to grab something (what that was, who knows because he's quickly forgot faced with this) and instead finds a teenager which an important question.

The pauses in her speech don't go unnoticed because, in a way, it reminds him of how Bill would sometimes talk trying to bury his stutter. )

I, uh— ( Right, Eggos. He remembers that from when he was a kid though his mom would never let him eat them at home. ) I can make waffles. I can actually make stroopwafels too which are pretty good.

[savingthrows]

[ Her entire face wrinkles in utter confusion. The fridge stays open, apparently forgotten in the face of what he just said. ]

Stooped. Waffles?

[ She's never heard of that, evidenced by how she mouthes those words a few more times, before another question has to inevitably follow, a hint of impatience because she doesn't like when she doesn't know a word: ]

What are stooped waffles?

[laviny]

[Yelena has wandered into the kitchen hoping to find a quick snack and something to drink, though she pauses when she sees Eleven. She recognizes the girl from her first day on the station, and based on that first meeting she’s not really surprised she’s looking for Eggos. She is a little surprised by the question, though.]

No, I have never made waffles.

[Aside from toasting the occasional Eggo, but apparently that isn’t an option. She glances around the kitchen, thoughtfully.]

Maybe I could try though.

[There's nothing stopping her from making waffles. Except for her own lack of knowledge on the subject. Maybe that should stop her. But honestly, how hard could it be?]

[savingthrows]

[ She's seen Yelena before - but notably, Eleven has since gained shoes and what appears to be a leather jacket she's practically drowning in. ]

It can't be hard.

[ A slightly doubtful look at Yelena, Eleven looking for confirmation that indeed it cannot possibly be difficult to make waffles. ]

... right?

[oiorpata]

[ there's very little andy hasn't eaten at this point. there's food she misses and food she's forgotten and she can honestly be kind of a gremlin when it comes to eating. so she makes her way to the kitchen to check out what the supply is like. ]

[ the first thing she notices is the open fridge, but soon after she hones in on the girl, blindfolded and bleeding but clearly sitting this way of her own volition. she'd walked in quietly because it's her default, but she doesn't want to somehow... make things worse, so she opens up one of the cabinets a little too hard and pulls out a weird looking fruit, making the noise on purpose. ]

Yeah. A snack.

[savingthrows]

[ Eleven sighs, as if in deep disappointment. It's not because of the woman, though, more because the mention of snacks reminds her of her own unsuccessful quest for the best food item ever. ]

There are no Eggos. But. There's ice cream.

[ She pulls the blindfold off then, wipes a hand under her nose in a routine gesture and blinks wide brown eyes up at Andy. ]

Hi.

Closed: TDM Continuations

[savingthrows]

[ Will add TDM continuations here if applicable. ]

For Quentin / @squatmance

[savingthrows]

[ cont. from here ]

[ She seems to puzzle over his words for a moment. Perhaps entirely too serious - but with everything Eleven has seen, she doens't dismiss ghosts as something not real. Perhaps ghosts are like the Upside Down. They're not really here, but they're next to here, or under it.

She thinks of pencils on paper, on pressing down too hard and seeing the trace of a line on the next piece of paper, then nods - as if the explanation makes perfect sense. ]

Ghosts are paper dents. I understand.

[ Eleven likes learning new things. ]

Like the gate. The Upside Down.

[squatmance]

[Paper dents. Yes. This conversation is going-

Wait.]

The, uh. What, now?

["Gate"? Like, a portal? But what the fuck is an "upside down"? Is it a place, sort of like the Mirror Realm?]

For Doctor (12) / @attackbrows

[savingthrows]

[ cont. from here ]

[attackbrows]

For starters, there is no ‘(wh)y’ in sauce. You'd go bonkers trying to figure that out.

[He’s just going to reach over for a brownie. Sweets first. Savoury stuff after the fact.]

But it's also quite simple: to make things less dull. Hot or cool. Sweet or sour. It's my mouth and I’ll have as many hot sauces or cool ranches as I want.

[He takes a bite of his treat.]

For Clara / @teamug

[savingthrows]

[ cont. from here ]

For Newton / @groupiedrifter

[savingthrows]

[ cont. from here ]

[ cw: mentions of human experiments, mentions of labs ]

[ Eleven stares at him, anger and naked fear warring in her gaze - and it's a fear of this man in particular, this man who says she looks like Eleven - has he seen pictures? Is he from the lab? She can't place his face, but there were many men in lab coats she didn't quite see. Papa called them friends. Eleven knows better now. She learned what 'friend' means, and the men in lab coats were not friends.

A big tear rolls down her cheek. ]

Papa is dead. You can't. Take me back.

[ It sounds petulant in its defiance, and the cart trembles, glass briefly rattling as Eleven takes a step back - away from the man. ]

Who sent you?

For the Doctor (11) / @lateness

[savingthrows]

[ cont. from here ]

[ Her first instinct is perhaps her worst - Eleven just hides right behind the thin, spindly man. He reminds her of Mike a little bit - shooting upwards and stretching long, all gangly limbs and an expressive face. He lacks the volume on his head, though. Which is to say, there is not much there for her to hide behind, but she steps behind him either way for a moment. Until she notices that the audience seems to focus on him now, on his wild, wide gestures, sweeping and broad, and the enthusiastic performance.

This, then, reminds her of Hopper for a moment, dancing in the cabin to get Eleven to relax when they fixed the place up. She peeks around him then, losing the shyness as quickly as it had originally ramped up, eyes wide and fixed on the Doctor, with her lips slowly curling into a smile. Before long, she's mouthing along with the song, even though she does not sing, casting nervous gazes into the crowd just to make sure they're not staring at her, until eventually she's copying the broad gestures enthusiastically.

The Doctor doesn't get her to sing - but he's certainly pulling her out from the shellshock state she'd just been in. ]

For Bucky / @starer

[savingthrows]

[ cont. from here ]

[ When Bucky pulls the jacket off and offers it to her, there's a drawn out moment when Eleven just stares up at him, small face much too somber and wary for a child her age. It's not the kind of wariness of a child who is about to say 'I'm not supposed to talk to strangers'. It's not even the wariness of a child that is debating whether the strange man in front of her could hurt her. No, Eleven thinks of Benny two years ago, who gave her a shirt to replace her paper thin hospital gown. Benny who was tall and gruff and scruffy, who gave her clothes and gave her food and was gentle underneath the roughness. Benny who tried to help, and got killed by the bad men looking for Eleven.

She takes the jacket, holds it awkwardly for a moment, and then slips into it. Much too large on her, of course, but it's warm, and it reminds her a little bit of Karli - that is also bittersweet. Her fingers curl into the fabric for a moment as she pushes the sleeves up as best as she can.

She didn't know how strong she was back when Benny died, couldn't keep him alive. But if Bucky is like Benny, then she will keep him safe.

So in reward for his efforts, Bucky gets a tentative smile, and the best word she knows to describe a leather jacket: ]

Bitchin'.

[ And then she reaches out to slide her small hand into Bucky's. ]

For Peter Parker / @webdesigned

[savingthrows]

[ cont. from here ]

[ Eleven will never be responsible with any sort of power. The good news is that she does genuinely think she knows better than many adults in that regard. The bad news is that she does genuinely think she knows better than many adults in that regard.

She does, however, choose to answer his question in the most unintentionally disturbing way ever: ]

On my body.

[ Does she mean corpse, or is the implication a different one? Eleve doesn't clear that up, and just takes a slightly too big bite of the hot dog, cheeks chipmunking comically while she maintains steady eye contact. ]