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etcelsior2017-10-25 08:53 pm
maskormods) wrote in etcelsior2017-10-25 08:53 pm
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HOT DOG FRENCH FRIES COME ON BABY TELL ME YOUR LIES
T E S T D R I V E M E M E
Considering apping into MASK OR MENACE? Want to dip your toes into the setting and get a feel of whether your character will fit into it? Or maybe you're just cruising and want to play around? Then you've come to the right place!
Pick any of the following scenarios below or feel free to make up your own, but don't be afraid to throw yourself at someone else's thread, either!
And remember there's only one rule in Test Drive Meme Club: HAVE FUN ON THE TEST DRIVE MEME!01. The city of Heropa is what one might expect from a small, bright and cheery place, where locals are friendly enough and local shop owners might offer a free drink to welcome you to their fair city. Today is even friendlier, as the Florida city is experiencing a dip in the temperature that allows it to feel more like autumn -- why, at 60 degrees Fahrenheit, people might start breaking out their winter coats soon!
With a certain spooky holiday coming up, the city's main hospital has gotten in the spirit by setting up a Happy Hallow-Vein blood drive at a local block party. Maybe you've stumbled by and had your attention captured by a bunch of phlebotomists dressed up like Dracula, or maybe you volunteered your services as a celebrity imPort, here to encourage others to donate today! Either way, consider donating and then enjoying some fried Oreos and lemonade at the street fair. Gotta top off those fluids, after all!
Oh, but if you're an imPort, you might have to fill out a few extra forms... they have to watch out for alien blood, after all, and you might just run into a couple of people wondering if they can get your powers from your blood.
02. De Chima, Virginia, is a large city with a healthy economy, and though it's quieter than Heropa, there are still large numbers of citizens to be awed at your very presence. Look at you! Organic wonder! Those words have meaning here. Science and technology are the lifeblood of this city, so you're likely to come across a good many locals taking your picture with the newest of devices or recently published PLoS papers. The imPort craze remains high here, and you may find yourself cornered by overzealous imPort fans, media wannabes and opportunists alike, shoving cameras in your face. Some of them MAY ask if you personally know the De Chima Ambassador, Sam Merlotte. Beware if you answer in the affirmative; anything from personal questions about romantic chances to bedroom habits to dietary queries might come up!
In this spooky month of October, special effects companies are doing a limited-time outdoors expo to really show off their stuff! You may see terribly convincing lizardpeople, zombies, monsters, elves and aliens in your midst, delighting in peeling synthetic skin off to reveal horrifying makeup beneath the masks and occasionally ducking away to perform a little last-minute costume maintenance. The kids are agog and aghast at what’s surrounding them, and if you, imPort, happen to be a little less than human, you might get children and adults alike yanking on your ears, tails, and other non-human characteristics while marveling, “Amazing! How do they make it look so real?”
The rest of the expo is spent showing off holograms of explosions, entirely too many smoke machines, demonstrations of stuntmen on bungees, and more! Guests are welcome to get their faces done up as the mythical being of their choice or, for the truly daring, to try their hand at a stunt or two themselves.
03. Maurtia Falls, Pennsylvania has carried a reputation for ups and downs ever since imPorts began reappearing again, just those few years prior. Several imPort heroes have put focused efforts into cleaning up the streets of this somewhat infamous city, while a handful of others had swooped in to help the criminal industry thrive. More so here than the streets of any other imPort city, the battle between good and evil looks more like a war of escalation than a heroic tale -- but that war waging is taking a turning tide thanks to the order and regulation established by Ambassador Petyr Baelish. Locals know him best for his library and his hardline on containing the criminal element. Trustworthy guy, they'll tell you. But one man's leadership isn't enough to clean up a troubled city in a year's time; everything from the classic bank heist to brutal bloodbaths can happen around the corner. You have to keep your eyes open and your mind sharp when you live in Maurtia Falls.
Infuriated by the reappearance of some members of this old imPort team, you might run into a few gangmembers spoiling for a fight with any imPort they can get their hands on. You can see them striding angrily down the street, giving innocent people the stinkeye and glancing at everyone's wrists. Eventually, they come across a poor soul that simply has a very distinct aesthetic - look, they just like cyberpunk! - and, having mistaken them for an imPort, drag her into the shadows for what they feel is a well-deserved beat down.
What do you do, imPort? Do you save her? Do you run away to avoid capture yourself? Or, you little villain you, do you go in and beat them up so you can take her purse? It's easy to see that she's carrying an awful lot of money on her!
04. Nonah, North Carolina, is the liveliest of all cities; loud, busy and there's some kind of energy in the air that gets everyone buzzing with excitement. Today, much of that excitement centers around tryouts for The Sing-le Long, the hottest new singing competition/dating show to hit the airwaves! Held in the outdoor ampitheater of a local park, the lines for tryouts are somewhat disorganized, winding around into the audience area—you might come to take a look and find yourself accidentally onstage! Or maybe the tryout coordinators spotted an imPort and bumped you to the front of the line. Either way, prepare to belt out a song and list your turn-ons afterward!
Outside the park, you're still likely to attract attention. Natives may gather around new arrivals and ask both personal and broad questions about life as an imPort, what they are looking forward to, if they're looking for a sidekick. A few restaurants will offer a free appetizer (with the purchase of an entree), and you may be offered product samples from local businesses! Just be sure to speak to an agent before signing any endorsement deals.
no subject
It's a world without monsters. Without demons. A world where I'm- these bullshit powers make me strong. I never have to be weak again.
[A thread of vulnerability in her voice- unbidden, unpermitted.]
They want us to fight for them. To make money and be legitimate by fighting evil and saving people. You can fight for a living and still have a home.
And- and you're here.
[Of course she thinks it's a djinn, John. You're here- monsters aren't. It's everything she's ever wanted. It's too perfect to be real- and just stupid enough to be a djinn world. Most fantasy worlds have some bullshit.
Her jaw clenches, brow furrowing even deeper, as if enough anger could drive away the tears starting to well up.]
no subject
God. What happened to her? ]
Yeah, I'm here. I'm an goddamn old man, Mar. Our kids aren't here. We're puppets to the fucking government. If this is a djinn, it's doing a shitty job.
[Gently but insistently, John pries the gun (where the fuck did she get that, anyway?) from Mary's hands and let's it clatter to the pavement. He scoots it away with his foot, and then slowly lets go of her wrist. Instead, he places his rough hands on either side of her head, cradling her face with a gentleness he's rarely ever had with anyone but this woman.]
I don't know what the hell happened, but you're alive, baby. And I'm alive. And right now that's all that matters.
no subject
When they were far enough away from all of it that she could pretend that anything could make her feel safe.
God, he feels so real. Sounds, looks- smells. His eyes, new lines and wrinkles and sadness wrapped around familiar love and velvet-brown softness. His voice, rougher and older but still low and smooth and just for her.
It hurts to keep looking at him.]
It's not all that matters.
I've thought about this - dreamed - even prayed - since the day I came back. I've missed you so much. I've wandered the country retracing your steps, looking for your footprints in Lawrence.
And now you're- [She stops short, presses her lips together. Her hands come up to lay over his, small manicured hands gently resting over his large rough ones.
Her next breath rattles.]
Good things don't just happen, John. You've hunted long enough to know that.
no subject
But he doesn't do so for long, because what she says rips a small hole in his heart.]
You came back?
[If heartbreak could have a sound, it's in those words right there. For over twenty years he fought and clawed and scratched his way to vengeance for this woman, and come to find that after he dies (oh, yes, he remembers her insistence earlier), she comes back? It's cruel. It's the cruelest thing he can conceive of.
Without a second thought, he leans in to press a kiss to her mouth. Nothing hard or insistent, but there's a certain desperation that Mary would be blind to not see. It's not about list or desire, it's about needing something as basic as air or water or food. For years he's been starved, and now he's got the one thing he needs most in the world.]
step 1: try not to cry step 2: cry a lot
As sad as she is, she can't- she can't even imagine his pain.
All she manages is a small, wounded nod before he's kissing her. And god, this kiss is even better, better because it's real and it's a choice they're both making rather than the instinct of a desperate soul. She feels his desperation, and she mirrors it: and it's not about the years separating them (he wins that contest, easy) but the utter lack of connection she's felt to the world around her, the six months of being adrift in 33 years of darkness and missed milestones. The weird technology, the countless events and milestones and tragedies missed out on, the yawning gap of not-motherhood stretched between her and her grown-men sons who are now ten years her senior. The condemnation in their tired eyes, in the sadness weighing down their shoulders, in the hardness behind Dean's eyes, in Sam's terrified movements when someone mentions Lucifer. It's the nightmares she knows they have and the home they never knew, the yellow eyes that haunted them for so many years. It's her guilt, knowing that every sorrow, every loss, every trauma and grief and hardship around her- all of it, all of it, came down on her head.
She's felt so, so alone in this world, searching desperately for something to hold onto, and she's finally found something in him that she always needed: a John who knows the life, a John who understands her darkness rather than being blind to it, a John who understands the pain of loss as she does.
John. Just- John.
She kisses back, hands on his at first, uncertain, before finally, finally coming up to touch his face. Oh, and it's just like she remembers. A small, wounded sound comes from her throat, and she holds on just a little tighter.]
Re: step 1: try not to cry step 2: cry a lot
He pulls away then,and she stays.
John presses his forehead against hers, taking the moment to just soak her presence in. She's so beautiful, so much more than his brain ever was able to conjure up. Her hair looks good like this, short and practical, and though he always loved her long hair he may love this more.]
Baby...[He breathes her in, then sighs so shakily that he fears he may rattle apart.] Did I ever tell you how amazing you are? I don't think I ever told you enough.
no subject
For something, anything, familiar- it's a lifeline. It's water in the desert. Her hands are at the back of his neck, fingers laced into hair and sneaking under shirt collars, just to feel skin and to anchor the contact. Maybe if she can touch more of him, feel something under her fingers, it will be more real. Maybe he won't slip away from her. Maybe it will make this not a dream.
Then he speaks, and she laughs a little, shakily.]
Well- I could hear that more often.
[She moves her hands to his face, thumbs smoothing over his cheeks soothingly. Mary heard the rattle in his voice, and wants to help them both keep their shit together at least a little.]
Do you- um- [Eyes closed. Words- hard.] Where're you staying? We should go somewhere. Not here.
no subject
Now, because John is a Man™, and a man very recently reunited with his wife, the question brings exactly one thing to mind. And honestly? It's the first time his thoughts have wandered any father south than her face. It's weird what feeling your emotions freely will do to you, huh?? ]
Oh. Uh. [He shuts his eyes tight, clearing his thougts.] An extended stay motel a couple of blocks away. I'm....sure you'd like to rest, get a damn drink or something.
no subject
She swipes a thumb through dampness on his cheek, probably from before the alley, and takes a deep breath.]
Okay. Okay.
[Pulling away now. Letting her hand find his, lacing their fingers together tight.]
Let's go.
[She doesn't look at him- and it's obvious why. If she looks at him for too long, she's afraid one or both of them might burst into tears in the middle of a damn alley, and ain't nobody got time for that.]
no subject
At least it's not pay-by-the-hour.
Once they get to John's room, he sags visibly. It's like he's been using all his strength to not collapse in a pile of distress and grief and relief. He lets go of Mary's hand, making a beeline towards a half empty bottle of whiskey on the TV stand. Hands shaking, he pours one, two glasses. One he throws back immediately, the second he offers to her.]
Its all I got. Sorry.
no subject
It's fine. Thank you.
[She knocks it back just as hard as he, and sets the glass down.
Then- a breath.
Damn, the table sure is interesting.]
no subject
He pours himself a few more fingers, and then a few into hers without even asking. Some shit is going on, no one needs to be sober for this.]
I know we've got shit to talk about. [He breathes a shaky breath, a d continues.] But it's seven at night and I'm fine with leaving everything until the morning.
[Just. Let him have time with this before reality comes crashing in?]
no subject
Her husband, bleeding and maimed from a hunt. Her husband, fighting the nightmares and monsters she tried desperately to keep him from. Her husband, scared and alone in a world gone crazy.
The glass shakes in her hand as she stares at that scar, at the wedding ring still on his finger, at the scars and bites that map his arms. There's a rushing in her head set to the drum-beat of her heart and it's run through with the rata-tat-tat of my fault my fault my fault until it's all she can hear.
She can't see the scar anymore- can't see. The hand holding her glass comes up to wipe at her eye; it comes away wet.
No. No. It's not fair; she doesn't get to fall to pieces, not when he's the one in real pain. She grits her teeth and fights it down, chokes down the guilt like her second drink of whiskey.]
John.
[He's on the edge of falling apart, and it's all her fault. Her fault.]
no subject
Gently, he pulls Mary over to the bed, pulling her down to sit so she can at least have something stable under her. God, the last thing we both need is her passing out and hitting her head or something.]
Just breathe, baby. Deep breaths, it's going to be okay.
[ Jesús, he hope she doesn't realize that he's crying again.]
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I hope so.
[It comes out sounding a little choked, because all at once she recognizes the look in his eyes. It's the same look Sam gave her- and Dean- and even that woman, Jody, and Castiel. That look of disbelief, Sam's wide-eyed vulnerability, and most of all Dean's desperate, soul-deep hunger. The hunger in his eyes that made her pull away from him, cross half the country to get away from him, because it was too much to see that starvation in her boy's eyes.
She sees it in John now. Scars ripped open, old holes filled, grief set fire. Things once scarred but never healed now ripped into with sharp claws and soothing balm.
She knows what he needs.
Her hand moves from his cheek to his hair, palm resting at his temple, fingers carding through his hair, the way he used to like. Her eyes are softer, less guarded than they were before. There's more of Mary in them, less of hunter.]
It's okay, John. I'm really here. [The smallest smile.] It's really me.
no subject
It's like the floodgates of hell just burst open, too many years alone and in pain weakening the walls until critical failure was all but inevitable. He leans into his wife hard, clutching at her like she's a lifeline. And she is, really. Seeing her ripped away from him now would guarantee it. So many years her memory was all that was keeping him afloat, but none of it compares to this. The real thing.
God, how could he forget how good this was, just to hold her?
Or, rather, she's holding him. He's very suddenly too much of a mess to do much more than that. A part of him is mortified—he should be the strong one. It's his job to protect her. But something has snapped, and all he can do is just try to keep himself from going under completely.]
no subject
Her tears are softer, less wracked with agony, less bursting-dam than his, but they come and they come fiercely. After a moment of holding him, of feeling him unleash twenty years of grief and suffering and empty, it strikes her. The depth of his loss throws into sharp relief the enormity of her own loss, and suddenly she isn't just crying for him.
She's crying for the life he lived, the life she can feel in the broken man in her arms. She cries for the hollow, broken thing he became, for the pain he lived, for the lives her saddened, lonely sons have lived. She cries for every trip to Hell, every death, every loss. For every wedding never held, ever baby never born, every baseball game never played in. For the pain of knowing that she will never, ever see her baby boys again, and not being able to hold it back anymore. And she cries for her own life- the one thing she never mourned, the one sadness she never let herself really feel. For losing her whole world, everyone she knew, and even her husband- because this man, this was the man she married, but time and pain have molded him, and she will never see that naive civilian again.
There isn't sobbing, not like his. There isn't breaking down, not like him. She doesn't melt into a puddle looking for a lifeline- no, she wraps herself around him like a blanket. She is steady as a pillar of the earth, because for once in what feels like forever she actually has something to hold onto, somewhere solid to plant her feet. She is unshakeable because she's tired of being shaken, she is steady because this is the first time in a long time that she can be.
At some point, she realizes she's making noise. Shushing softly into his hair, soothing him. It might be emasculating, were it not for the utter and total rawness of the moment.]