hey there passengers, it's me, ya commissary

[dealwiththe]

Passengers: Everyone (get in here)
Location: Ye Olde Commissary
Date: March 1-7
Summary: Put tickets in, get knives, foam wives, and novelty t-shirts out (sorry I couldn't think of another rhyme)
Warnings: Will add as needed.


[ Ooooooooooooooh.... ]

Comments

cw local pig acquires low-budget realdoll

[rank1]

Travis has been waiting for this moment all his life. His life on the Peregrine, anyway. And, you know what, maybe sometimes at home too. Do you have any idea how expensive things are when you live off the grid? It's not cheap. You have to pay for all sorts of daily shit just to access the things that would be on the grid. It's especially expensive when you have to do odd jobs to make a little cash, and you spend half of it on gas getting to and from said jobs. It's not easy. In fact, it's fucking hard!

By comparison, the Fantasy Generator Paid For By Tickets of Unknown Origin is a dream. Finish month, acquire tickets, buy wonders. Who couldn't love that?

Travis feeds ten tickets into the machine, smoothing the corners as he does, practiced and true. He punches in his order with a wolfish grin. The machine makes the noises, mechanisms move and whirr, sounds are made, and then the door slides open.

Travis reaches in and pulls out his Foam Friend™ with two hands around her trim waist. This Foam Friend™ is a Japanese-Ukrainian beauty with long blonde hair, legs for days, and clothing so scant she might as well have come without. Travis marvels over her openly. His world has shrunk to just the two of them, and without thought, he turns her around to check out her ass, too.

"Wow," he says, a purr of thrill on his voice. "They really got every detail."

[saklas]

Volk is there so fast it's like he teleported, trying to push both Travis and the 𝓯𝓸𝓪𝓶 𝔀𝓲𝓯𝓮 back in the direction of the inmate bunks.

"Embarrassment is good sometimes. Sometimes it's a good thing. Go somewhere else with this."

Whoever this is based on has absolutely impeccable stockings. The envy Volk feels is also impeccable. Ugh, no, he can't spend tickets on clothes. Don't get distracted.

[rank1]

“Wha—huh?”

Travis is so entranced by his foam wife’s tight little ass that the guy trying to hustle him away is momentarily disorienting. Who the fuck? Volk?

He picks the doll up entirely, sweeping her right off her foam stilettos and out of Volk’s reach.

“What gives?” Travis asks, as he firmly steps away from getting shoved himself. “Get your own foam wife.”

[dealwiththe]

Lucifer looks - well. He looks -

"I'm not sure whether to be impressed or concerned," he finally says, appraising the foam wife with the eye of a man who has definitely seen a few RealDolls in his day. "It ought to be sturdier than a blow-up one, I suppose. But if you're planning on a public demonstration, make sure everyone is a consenting adult."

[rank1]

“I’m not sure whether to be offended or laugh that you think I’d fuck this in public,” Travis answers, but it’s easy going. Pleasant, even: how can he not be, with his arm around her? (Fuck, she’d never let him touch her in public period.)

Still, there’s an opportunity here. Travis shows her off.

“So what’s the devil’s take? Outfit’s a little much, right?”

[lessandmorethanhuman]

Alex was early to the commissary, mostly to see if he could talk about who else got tickets and how many. Still trying to figure out the system. He doesn't see how many tickets Travis has, but he sees the results...

One eyebrow raised, looking at it, then looking at Travis. Back to it, back to Travis. "Dude, do me a favor. If you're going to do anything sexual with that, do it away from the bunks alright?" Alex wasn't even sleeping in the bunks currently, but he didn't necessarily hold out hope he'd stay out of them.

[rank1]

“One,” Travis replies, raising a finger, “why the hell is everyone so into what I do with my wife? Bunch of fucking perverts.”

He raises another finger.

“Second… I’m not gonna rail her where any of you morons can hear it. She’s got class.”

(He has yet to discover she doesn’t have orifices.)

local robotfucker takes offense!!!

[omniavincit]

It's the noise William follows—persistent and mechanical, making the occasional leap in pitch. He has not been waiting for this moment. Hasn't been to his cabin, hasn't yet had a mysterious pair of tickets deposited on his pillow in the dorms. He didn't buy anything last time, doesn't even know what's on the menu. So to speak.

By the time he gets there, the commissary's given a final whir and fallen silent. He shoots a glare in the machine's direction and turns—and makes a noise himself, not quite a gag and not quite a gasp. It lodges in the back of his throat.

He looks accusingly from Travis to the machine. Back. “What fucking orifice birthed that?”

No actual dicks are pictured

[dealwiththe]

Day 1

Ah, the fabled commissary. Lucifer is curious, so of course on the day it opens up, he makes his way there with other curious passengers!

Then he does what you’d expect Lucifer to do - he inserts a ticket and hits the RANDOMIZE button. His eyes gleam with anticipation.

The item the commissary spits out gets a delighted sort of chuckle from the Devil himself. Yes, he is an immortal angelic being crafted by the hand of God. Yes, he has the sense of humor of the average 12 year old.

“I’d hang this in the mess hall for everyone to enjoy, if I wasn’t sure it’d be stolen or destroyed within 24 hours,” he says conversationally. This is why we can’t have nice things, you miscreants.


Day 3

It’s a couple of days later when he ventures back. Once the initial buzz has died down. It’s kind of late in the night cycle - most people should probably be in bed. He’s not being sneaky, per se. Lucifer doesn’t really have a sneaky bone in his body. But his expression is a little more serious, a little more earnestly hopeful as he, seemingly alone, once again approaches the commissary. He feeds it two tickets, then punches in a quick request. The response is also quick - it doesn’t take the machine long to spit out the item he requested.

It’s not a large or complicated item. As he inspects it, it’s clearly and simply a photo. Of himself, and a woman - blue eyes, dirty blonde hair. They’re both smiling, bathed in sunlight (they must’ve been outside, maybe at a beach), and Lucifer is kissing her cheek. They are undeniably a normal, happy-looking couple in love.

Good luck picking up all that before he slips the foam printed photo into an inner pocket of his jacket. He’s got no particular desire to linger here, so he turns to leave. Unaware of anyone lurking nearby.

3

[kaijuice]

"Midnight craving?"

He should, probably, be in bed — the lights are out, as though that matters to a man born below ground. But Temple is a soft touch, or at least, unconvinced of his capacity for trouble forewarned in the fucking cafeteria.

Silco perches upon one of the dinky little tables, iris gleaming neon in the gloom. Half a glass of water dangles from his fingertips.

(It's difficult for anyone to look composed in shorts and an undershirt, unless you're uncommonly deferent of scrawny dad chic. That message has yet to reach the thin line of his mouth; a stare dead for Lucifer's eyes.)

Day 1

[saklas]

Ping! It's a new text post, to your CommLink!

Nine tickets are up for grabs.

Theo Crawford | OTA

[sanctus_dei]

[Theo isn't getting anything as exciting as a foam wife or nature's best dick pics, but he's still sneaking around to the Commissary a day or two after it opens to when it seems like it's currently empty nearby.

In the past, Theo said he never wanted to use this machine, that it was insulting with its kitschy products and foam replications. He still agrees with that, but there's something he wants, and now he can afford it.

Theo's never had a nice suit. He's always been stuck with hand-me-downs from his much larger older brother, or second hand finds. It was time to get something nice for once in his life. He arrived only with the suit he died in. He had nothing else.

He'd assume is was a replication, just like the other things the Commissary dispenses, but it was still lovely. A black, single-breasted three piece suit and vest, matching shoes, with a deep red shirt and matte gold tie. All cut to fit his size. It comes with the tag of a fine tailor from Japantown in San Francisco, looking for all the world like the real thing. Theo looks pretty thrilled about it, which is exactly why he's here to pick it up when he think he's alone. Can't let anyone see him being happy now, can he?

Of course, he picks up his new threads and turns to walk off, only to see there was someone now waiting in line behind him.]

Jesus-- When did you get here?

[lessandmorethanhuman]

"About a minute ago." Alex answered, hands casually in his pockets. He was bored and taking a walk around the areas he was allowed to go to. "Nice suit. Good choice." Sincere in his tone too.

[dealwiththe]

Wrong deity, but I'll let it slide. Several minutes ago. And I walked. Didn't even fly.

[ Lucifer isn't bothered at all, he's simply looking over Theo's acquisition with the eye of a man who knows his fashion. ]

Very snappy. I like it. Personally, I would've skipped the tie and gone for a pocket square instead - [ He plucks at his own, which is purple paisley today ] but to each their own.

[smugreport]

[ For maybe the first time in months, Rhys was actually excited for something. Namely, a chance to replenish his stockpile of shirts after William (rudely) took 90% of those he arrived here with as a cruel and unusual style of punishment. It'll be nice to not have to stand in the laundry room half naked every other day for an hour while his one article of upper body clothing is washed and dried.

So when he inserts 3 tickets and instead of some classy button down he's instead given this, he's perplexed. Machine error? They happen all the time with normal vending machines, and this is just a more advanced version of one. It's when he tries again and gets the same result that he starts getting pissed. ]

Uhhh Hello? Is this-

[ He starts looking around for a maintenance number or something ]

I thing this machine is broken? It ate six of my tickets! Hey-!

[ He kicks at it a couple times ]

These aren't what I asked for!

[saklas]

What did you ask for?

[It's not more funny than it is interesting. This thing has failure cases even when you're not trying to make it fail?

Good.]

shows up a week late with bedhead

[grindset]

Try kicking it again,

[is impossibly dry.]

If you break it, it might suddenly start to work.

[Viktor's expression reflects his voice perfectly: calm because he's already tired, maybe a little grouchy (or ready to be), navigating the kind of day that feels long before it's begun. All the same, he comes sloping toward the Commissary and its impatient customer, both prepared to handle whatever this is and determined not to just stare at Rhys's arm the whole time.]

What's the issue?

[He hasn't seen the shirt yet.]

Alex Mercer

[lessandmorethanhuman]

Alex had gotten there early, mostly to see what the random offerings were this time. If he could, he'd love to know what the random offerings for Wardens were too, if anyone wants to share. Raising an eyebrow at some of them, he then steps back. Mostly to watch, and still debate with himself. Nicer pillows, or a nicer blanket. Which one to get first.

He might also stop you to ask "Hey, how many tickets did you get this month? Did you do anything differently than last month?" to try to figure out how the system works.

[saklas]

"Nine. I had my complete mental breakdown in the middle instead of at the beginning, try that one."

Volk has somehow gotten ahold of eyeshadow, lipstick, red pumps, and a weird earring this month.

We all have different goals.

[dealwiththe]

"I'm afraid I don't qualify for your little experiment, since this is my first month," Lucifer says easily, still holding his fun calendar that the commissary spit out for him. "It's probably random, anyway."

[prinks]

Penitence, lately of Somerset, now a resident of the stars (so she has been told) is still getting her bearings. Wearing clothing that will read as old fashioned, if not positively ancient, to anyone living past the year 1700, she seems like a dowdy painting come to life. There is a severe beauty to her gaze-- she is unfashionably thin, and her clothing is conservative by the standards of her time, but her eyes shine with a sharp intelligence.

(a.) As she is to understand things, she has no 'tickets' with which to purchase goods. That is fine; Penitence has always believed strongly in earning her own way. But she does intend to understand this place, and that is proving difficult.

She frowns at the menu the commissary provides.

"Foam?" She shakes her head. "However would you build a thing of foam?"

(b.) Later, she continues to mingle in this area, trying to meet the other denizens of this strange craft and understand them. Politely as she's able, she may flag you down.

"A moment? I've a favor to ask."

(c.) If you've purchased something, Penitence watches the transaction with wide-eyed curiosity. She marvels openly at the commissary. You may hear her murmur to herself, "some kind of automaton, surely..."

Very carefully, she reaches forward to touch it.

(wildcard.) [im down for anything o/]

b

[dealwiththe]

Oh it's an old-timey lady. Lucifer hasn't checked the rosters recently so he doesn't know her, but she's so obviously old-timey he almost immediately feels bad for her.

She's clearly in way over her head, technologically speaking, at least. He knows the feeling - like the first time he dropped into Earth in the late 19th century after over a hundred years in Hell. Culture shock doesn't even begin to describe it.

"You've absolutely come to the right place for a favor," he says easily. "What can I do for you?"

Hello new person! Option A

[lessandmorethanhuman]

"Apparently it's not foam the way we're used to it. Probably definitely not foam the way you're used to it." Alex's tone is normal, polite actually, as he takes in Penitence and her clothing and style. "New arrival huh?"

c

[helenite]

Alice watches from the corner of her eye, frozen somewhere between startled rabbit and trying not to startle a rabbit.

Penitence pats the machine. She inches back. Penitence mumbles in wonder. Alice inches further—

(Give the walking history lesson a little privacy.)

Another step, and she's free. Totally. Totally free, provided she doesn't trip on the train of a fucking pilgrim dress and fall ass-over-teakettle onto the floor. So obviously, that's exactly what she does, yelp and all.

[shiftedshape]

Loki's failed to earn additional tickets, so he should probably save the little he has, but idea of a tattoo stuck with him. Enough so that after an initial visit early in the week, he comes back a few days later to make good on the idea.

It's superstition, more than anything. A rune for protection inked into his skin isn't likely to do much of anything. But that doesn't mean he can't feel protected by it, which is really what matters, given how he's been on high alert with Malekith around. The idea of protection might be enough.

So he spends the ticket, only to discover it's not exactly clear that the image he requested-- the rune for algiz --is what he will get. There's just the instructions really. Peel of the film and press it to the skin.

As he settles leaning against a wall to contemplate his purchase, he debates handing it off to someone else to test. But that's obviously below a warden. And also he'd be out a ticket.

Sigh. Fine.

Ten or so minutes later, he's peeling the paper back from his arm and...

"Raidō? What?"

Clearly irritated, Loki stalks over to the machine, looking for-- some sort of refund. A complaint button. He can't have this on his arm.

"Hello? Do you respond to voice commands? I didn't ask for this." He smacks his hand against the surface of the machine but it has no obvious effect. Of course.