[ Julie fought with cacti to get out of the desert with Frank, she dragged herself through town until they found the hotel, and like any teenager would reasonably do, she slipped into the General Store with the intent to stuff her shirt with goods and sneak back to the hotel room she's staying in. When you find her, she's shaking with anger at the counter of the store, fist raised at the cashier, things still bundled under her shirt. ]
I said I'm taking it. You're not charging me! I'll steal it if I want to fucking steal it!
ii. hanging out at the staywell | ota
[ The vibes of Wellstone suck. The air sucks, the heat sucks, the food sucks. Around noon, Julie can be found on the roof of the Staywell. She's wearing the closest thing she could find to jeans and a dark button-up she had ripped the sleeves off of. Julie's legs are dangling off the edge, boots crossed and bouncing gently against the stone. Her light hair is pulled back behind a bandana to keep it from falling in her face as she pulls intentional strokes across a page of the notebook in her lap.
You might look up to catch her watching you from her perch. She looks exhausted, but she offers you a tiny smile. ]
iii. stardust... murders? | ota 3-way prompt with drop_out | cw: blood/npc harm
[ Or maybe you come across Julie late at night, when the sky is pitched black and you walk into the Stardust 24/7 Diner.
Immediately upon entering, you'll notice a few things. Depending on your temperament, these things might be increasingly alarming: (1) there are two teenagers in a booth towards the back of the diner enjoying milkshakes; (2) the jukebox sputters a mournful, broken syllable of Jolene occasionally; (3) a booth on the opposite side of the diner is covered in blood splatters as if something imploded; and (4) the waiter is leaned over the booth the teenagers are currently occupying with his hand pinned to the table with a fork.
The girl, a seventeen-year-old blonde with a side shave, is slid sideways in the booth, boots propped up on the cracked pleather seat. Her hands have blood on them; a finger casually runs over the side of her milkshake mug, collecting the condensation.
When the door opens, Julie will look over her shoulder at you. Her eyes catching the light oddly. She smiles at you. ]
Julie Kostenko | Dead by Daylight
[ Julie fought with cacti to get out of the desert with Frank, she dragged herself through town until they found the hotel, and like any teenager would reasonably do, she slipped into the General Store with the intent to stuff her shirt with goods and sneak back to the hotel room she's staying in. When you find her, she's shaking with anger at the counter of the store, fist raised at the cashier, things still bundled under her shirt. ]
I said I'm taking it. You're not charging me! I'll steal it if I want to fucking steal it!
ii. hanging out at the staywell | ota
[ The vibes of Wellstone suck. The air sucks, the heat sucks, the food sucks. Around noon, Julie can be found on the roof of the Staywell. She's wearing the closest thing she could find to jeans and a dark button-up she had ripped the sleeves off of. Julie's legs are dangling off the edge, boots crossed and bouncing gently against the stone. Her light hair is pulled back behind a bandana to keep it from falling in her face as she pulls intentional strokes across a page of the notebook in her lap.
You might look up to catch her watching you from her perch. She looks exhausted, but she offers you a tiny smile. ]
iii. stardust... murders? | ota 3-way prompt with
[ Or maybe you come across Julie late at night, when the sky is pitched black and you walk into the Stardust 24/7 Diner.
Immediately upon entering, you'll notice a few things. Depending on your temperament, these things might be increasingly alarming: (1) there are two teenagers in a booth towards the back of the diner enjoying milkshakes; (2) the jukebox sputters a mournful, broken syllable of Jolene occasionally; (3) a booth on the opposite side of the diner is covered in blood splatters as if something imploded; and (4) the waiter is leaned over the booth the teenagers are currently occupying with his hand pinned to the table with a fork.
The girl, a seventeen-year-old blonde with a side shave, is slid sideways in the booth, boots propped up on the cracked pleather seat. Her hands have blood on them; a finger casually runs over the side of her milkshake mug, collecting the condensation.
When the door opens, Julie will look over her shoulder at you. Her eyes catching the light oddly. She smiles at you. ]
Oh, sorry. Did you want to order something?