HOT DOG FRENCH FRIES COME ON BABY TELL ME YOUR LIES

[maskormods]

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.

Comments

[failedparenting]

[John leans into the hand on his face and sighs, savoring the sensation of skin on skin. Her hands aren't as soft as he remembers—certainly, they had been curiously calloused in the early years of their relationship, but not so much later on. He can guess why. It's so calming, though, that it takes a few moments to work through the question.

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.

[momchester]

[TBH Mary's thoughts haven't gone south yet; she's literally just trying to get them somewhere so they can cry in private. Because judging by John's face, it's blisteringly obvious that the tears are coming soon.

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.]

[failedparenting]

[John is teetering dangerously on the edge of a total meltdown, though he's not entirely aware of it right now. He's taken refuge in simpler things, as he usually does when things get so big he can't handle them. John takes Mary by the hand, pulls her from the alley, down the street past all the curious eyes, and eventually they hit a mid grade hotel advertising weekly rates and kitchenettes.

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.

[momchester]

[On the walk Mary isn't sure if she's leading or following- and she doesn't even know the way. It's that sort of day. They're both on the brink, both wound tight, but there's no relief, no sagging, no release of energy on Mary's part. She takes the glass with that same pent-up, brittle control, and doesn't make eye contact.]

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.]

[failedparenting]

[Mary may be looking anywhere but at him, but John only has eyes for her. He's still so shocked, so rattled by her sudden appearance that he's terrified one eye off her means she'll disappear like so much smoke. His fingers tremble against the empty glass, and of course that means he just needs more to settle them.

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?]

[momchester]

[Of all the things, it's a scar that does it. A nasty scar on John's arm catches her eye and suddenly it's all she can see: the ugly, gnarled remnant of a fight with a rugaru or vampire or some damn thing like that. She stares at it, and it fills her vision, swallowing her whole with the reality of it.

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.]

[failedparenting]

[John sees the glass shaking in her hand, and before she can drop it he pulls it from her and pulls her into an embrace. Sure, he's about two steps away from a total nervous breakdown himself, but he's the husband here. He has to be her Rock in this kind of situation, as bizarre as it is. He buries his face in her hair, breathing her in deeply. It's supposed to calm her down, but it's entirely possible that it only serves and calming himself down.

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.]

[momchester]

[As strong as she's tried to be, as hard as she clamps her emotions down behind brick walls and iron bars (so much like Dean), she can't do it forever. Seeing his tears makes her face crumple just a little, lip trembling slightly, as she brings a hand up to touch his cheek. Her thumb smooths over his cheekbone, brushing tears from his eyes, and her heart breaks to see her strong husband so broken, so brittle, so scarred.]

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.

[failedparenting]

[And then, he breaks.

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.]

[momchester]

[Mary is fully expecting his breakdown; she folds him into herself, surrounding him with arms and warmth and a curtain of long blonde hair. After a minute the angle becomes awkward, and she feels like it isn't enough- somehow, all this contact, all this skin, all this touch, and it isn't enough - so she moves, kneeling on the bed and pulling him even closer. Deceptively strong arms cradle John to her chest and wrap around him tightly, a hand in his hair, head bent over him to press a kiss into that salt and pepper.

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.]