Who: Open
Where: Groovy Graveyard
When: Friday Afternoon
There was lull in traffic for the store for which Benji was terribly thankful. It wasn't that he disliked his job; quite the opposite, really. He got paid for listening to music all day. It was a pretty sweet gig, as far as he could tell. Sure, he had to talk to people occasionally, but it was mostly talking about music or movies or something so it wasn't as bad as it could be. The thing was, though he liked his job and tolerated talking to the customers, the job was much better when there weren't customers to tolerate talking to.
He changed the record that had been playing over the sound system and perched on his stool behind the counter. Sketchbook flipped open, he began absently doodling with a sharpie.
The only customer in the store was Goldie. She liked when it was quiet and empty like this, she felt more at peace, and browsed all the offerings new and old. Until she spotted a record single which caught her interest. She turned it over this way and that. Eventually, she approached Benji at the counter with the single in her hands. She'd had a few conversations with him, about the music in the shop or old DVDs when she'd been buying stuff. Her mom still had the DVD player set up below the TV and it functioned perfectly.
Goldie offered up the Elvis single, covered in yellowed paper with THAT'S ALL RIGHT printed on the front. "Hey. So, um, I have this single at home, but on my version, the B-side is I Don't Care if the Sun Don't Shine. The one on this one is Blue Moon of Kentucky. Do I have a fake, or is this a different pressing, or what's up?" She was genuinely curious.
Hollis blinked, noticing how she jumped, like she wasn't used to people like him scuttling around the boardwalk. He shrugged, stuffing another fry in his mouth. "Yeah, didn't think so," he said, smirking a little. "Can't blame you. Not exactly gourmet, is it?" He glanced at her again, feeling like they were from two completely different worlds. He almost admired her. Wished his walks could be so peaceful. "Guess I scared you a bit there. Boardwalk's nice this time of night, huh? Kinda feels like a different world when no one's around." He shifted on his heels, sensing she wasn't there to chat, but, he hadn't spoken to anybody all day and could use the release. "You live nearby? I come here all the time. And not just for the free fries. They are good, though. Aren't they?"
Goldie wondered about the guy; took in his appearance, his clothes. Was he hungry? She felt bad for him. "It's alright," she shook her head when he apologized for scaring her, like it was nothing. "I was in my head about something and forgot I wasn't alone in the world," she let out a soft laugh. "Probably not the best thing to do walking home alone at night." Asbury felt safe, having grown up here all her life, but still. Things happened. "It really is," she agreed about it being a different world. "Especially when the fog rolls in and it feels like a ghost town." She kind of liked that part, liked the change to the place such a transformation brought on.
"I live in Asbury," Goldie nodded, not exactly specifying whether she lived nearby or not. It wasn't like she'd give her home address, she didn't do that with strangers. But he didn't seem like a threat, so she wasn't worried, lowered her guard down some. She gave a kind smile and curiosity prompted her to return the question. "Do you live nearby?"
People judging the decor was one thing, but to imply he would've gone for a fake pumpkin instead of a real one--that was slightly insulting. He had nothing against Halloween, the sentiment was there. The motivation wasn't. "Did you know those types of pumpkins are called Jack Be Little's?" he asked,giving a nod to the small pumpkin on the shelf. "One of our waitresses brought it up. I thought she was just messing with us. Bet her ten bucks she couldn't prove it," he let out a resigned sigh, gazing into the distance. "You learn something new every day..." he blinked, turning back to the woman, "Are you a big Halloween person?"
"I didn't know that's what they were called. It's very cute," she said, beaming at both Felipe and the little pumpkin, like it would grow a face and smile back at her. Sometimes, she wished plants and inanimate objects could do that, beyond the effect of so called pareidolia. "I would say so," Goldie nodded. She debated what she was about to share, because it was a little silly and childish, but ended up saying it anyway. "There's a Donald Duck Halloween episode I love. I watch it every single year around this time. And horror movies, of course. The ones my wimpy ass can stomach, that is."
"Pfft. Don't sell yourself short, you probably have some pretty killer pumpkin carving skills. You just haven't discovered them yet!" He encouraged, giving a little nod of confirmation. "If I heard correctly, it's one hundred for the first prize, fifty for the second, and thirty for third." He leans in a little, "I'll compromise with ya, hear me out, okay? You just poke the holes along the outline, and I'll do the carving. That way we can be absolutely sure you don't risk the chance of cutting yourself, and I'll even do the seed gutting, so you don't get messy." His gaze lowers to her meal, instantly giving a nod of approval, "You've even got good taste in food. I don't know," he looks back up to her, "I think we'd make a good team. What do you say?"
Goldie wiped her mouth with a napkin and set it down. "Can I be totally honest? I've never tried." The opportunity had just never come up, her family not that big on celebrating Halloween, though she did remember trick-or-treating as a kid. She heard out the plan, but it was hard to concentrate, because the guy was pretty, like, really pretty. He looked like a character come alive from one of her kindle reads. "Okay so let me get this straight, I'll poke holes and you do all the cutting and stabbing?" She thought for a second longer, then nodded. She was not one for competitions or things where people 'showed off' their skills, but this whole thing seemed pretty laid back. There were tables being set up with pumpkins and people signing up on a clipboard. It seemed fairly low key. "I guess I could do that. If we win, you have to split the prize money though."
[MARIGOLD ‘GOLDIE’ MILLS. 22. CIS FEMALE. SHE/HER] is here! They’ve lived in Asbury Park for [ALL HER LIFE] and are originally from [ASBURY PARK, NJ]. They are a [BAKER AT VESUVIO] and in their downtime love [BURNING THROUGH HER KINDLE UNLIMITED SUBSCRIPTION] and [TRAVELING — WHEN SHE CAN AFFORD IT]. They look a lot like [HALLE BAILEY] and live in [SUNCREST]. The song that makes people think of them the most is [PLEASE MR. POSTMAN BY THE MARVELETTES].
Goldie has lived in Asbury her entire life, minus the 4 years she went to college.
Gifted kid was an understatement, Goldie was often light years ahead of her peers and even helped tutor some of them to catch up with her.
Because of her stellar grades and skipping a year, she was able to graduate high school at 16 and start college the following fall as she turned 17. She got a full ride to the University of Richmond as a Richmond Scholar. Her major was English.
Bday: June 26, 2002 (she's a canceeer 🦀)
Lives with her mother in Suncrest. She's unofficially a part time caretaker for her mother, who has Huntington's. It gets rough on Goldie to juggle work and taking care of her mother, but her mother is stubborn and refuses outside help.
She has an aunt who is her rock, who lives in Jersey City but visits often, and is Goldie's total role model as a badass business owning, single mom who doesn't take shit from anybody.
Her older sister lives in California.
She's generally a person who looks on the sunnier side of things, but struggles with her mental health, particularly depression and body dysmorphia. She tends to feel judged whenever she eats in public, but after being in therapy for the past 8 months, she's been doing better.
She's an amateur writer and in college contributed to the student newspaper.
Marigold is a huge 60's and 70's buff, less so that general time and more the movies, music, and fashion that came out of those eras.
She has a lot of guilt about not doing anything with her degree, it kind of eats at her but she's not ready to publish any of her work yet or work in anything to do with the literary field (though she dreams of it, sometimes).
She has an idea for an epistolary, historic romance novel set in the 1960's, but she's scared of messing up the story and hasn't written it yet.
A huge Booktok girlie. She reads everything, yes, even that terrible dark mafia romance that went viral. She knows it's the literary equivalent of a deep fried meal, but sometimes the brain just craves mental junk food.
Though the hours can run long, she likes working at Vesuvio bakery. Their mouth-watering caprese sandwich is her daily lunch and prepping the breads and pastries feels like meditation. With only 4 people working there including her boss, it feels like her own little domain.
possible connections ⟡ ݁₊ .
vesuvio regulars (0/3) — maybe your character has a twice-weekly hankering for cannoli, or they just love the coffee to-go that's served here. goldie knows your character by name, not much else about them but is always happy to see them.
reading buddies/library friends (0/3) — yes please! goldie loves to kill an hour or two at the local library, even if just to soak up its quiet, peaceful atmosphere.
thrift shop bestie (0/1) — while she doesn't have all that much free time on the weekends, her favorite pasttime is hitting up Asbury's thrift shops for rare fashion finds. her closet is overflowing with stuff and she loves a good fashion runway moment at a store!
southern peaches (0/1) — Goldie has relatives in Georgia and has been known to visit them from time to time. Maybe your character is from the area as well and they've met up while there. Or travelled from Asbury down south, together!
Who: Open
Where: Outside anywhere
What: During the Zombie Walk
cj's zombie lewk
"Hey! Ten. That's a motherfucking ten out of ten get up. It's an eleven! Danced for your life. All the judges turned their chair. You're goin' to LA...don't let anyone tell you otherwise, aight. Alright. Alright, alright, alright."
for: open (1/5)
location: horizon bar and grill, pumpkin carving contest
The leaves had turned a golden yellow mixed with a shade of orange, the breeze held a soft touch of coolness to it, all of it marked the ending of summer and the start of fall. His favorite season of all, because everything just felt so much better during this time of year. Admittedly, Ricardo had begun his horror movie watching back in July and by this point had watched enough horror films to last him another year. He did it on purpose so as to enjoy more fall activities, otherwise he'd hole himself away and marathon his favorite horror classics. When he heard that there was going to be a pumpkin carving contest over at the Horizon Bar and Grill there was no way he could pass that up. He paid his $5 and waited his turn to go up with the rest of the pumpkin carvers. As he waited a part of wondered why he hadn't called someone to come and join him. So, he turns to a nearby person, "Would you be interested in joining the contest with me? We could split the prize afterwards."
Goldie had a long morning of running errands, so she decided to treat herself to the mac and cheese at Horizon, with a side of sweet potato fries. They did mac and cheese so good here, she couldn't resist it, it was perfectly browned on top and so creamy and delicious. Her eyes darted over to the guy who spoke to her, and for a moment, she felt self conscious. Would he think her weird, for eating two sides as her meal? Or maybe he wasn't thinking about her meal at all, he didn't seem to be focused on that. "You mean like...carving a pumpkin together? Those things can be kinda tough. I don't know if I can be trusted with a carving knife," she said with a little laugh. "What's the prize?" She loved competitions though, and prizes.
Hollis was crouched on the sidewalk under a streetlight, picking at a half-eaten portion of french fries he'd found, still wrapped in a greasy paper bag. He glanced up suddenly, practically feeling someone's eyes boring into the back of his head. His chewing slowed and he raised an eyebrow, his mouth still full. "What?" He called out, wiping his mouth with the back of his hand. "It's better than lettin' it go to waste, right?" He scanned over the stranger with a nervous, borderline skeptical look. "What is it? You want some? It's not so bad if you ignore the ones that hit the dirt." He chuckled, half-joking, but left the offer hanging, wondering how they'd react. Not that he truly wanted to share.
Most days after work, Goldie would get straight home. Shifts could run long and she'd be tired, the only thing she wanted to get into her cozy pyjama pants and wash her face up and curl up on the couch (after checking up on her mom). But some nights, when the night air was still warm and smelled faintly of sea-breeze, even all the way downtown, Goldie would detour to the boardwalk. She loved it best at night, after all the shops were shuttered and the tourists gone home for the night. It was at its best then, in her mind, without noisy distractions. She didn't really expect to run into anybody, and jumped a little at the surprise of a person. Sometimes she could get so distracted and in her head with thoughts, she didn't notice people right in front of her. "No, thank you, I'm good," she politely shook the request. Even if the offer didn't gross her out slightly, she wasn't big on taking food from people. Plus, he seemed hungry.
Felipe didn't hesitate to jump behind the bar if need be and tonight, with two call outs, there was a big need. Not that he minded, emergencies happen. Plus, he enjoyed talking it up with tourists and regulars alike. The busiest time of the night was over, which he did need help with but he promised Diana, who usually worked in the diner area, lunch would be on him next time.
Eventually, a lull in traffic offered a short break. Resting an elbow on the wooden surface, he leaned on the counter and spoke to the nearest patron sitting at the bar, “Can you believe someone criticized the fact that we haven’t decorated for Halloween around here yet?” He pointed a thumb toward the shelf displaying the alcohol selection behind him. Nestled between a Jim beam and Tito’s Vodka was a lone miniature pumpkin. “I mean, that’s gotta be enough, right?”
Goldie let out a short chuckle when faced with the prospect of a complaint like that. It was, frankly, ridiculous. But not completely absurd, management at Vesuvio had already started their own plans for decorating for the fall. "Yeah, how dare you not be head to toe in skeletons, it's almost October 1st," she said with a soft undercurrent of sarcasm, stirring her gin and tonic. "Is that a real pumpkin, or plastic? Hard to see from here. Well, it's...something, I guess."
