wellcome | 2.0 Test Drive Meme

Entry tags:

2.0 Test Drive Meme

Premise & Arrival ֍ FAQ ֍ Apply ֍ Navigation

Welcome to Well! Characters arrive the same way every month. Your character arrives with only a handful of memories, clad in old west style clothes of your choosing, with no items from home. This month, there is a strong possibility that those old west style clothes include a pair of jorts or daisy dukes.

Anyone is free to play on the TDM, but you need an invite to apply. Feel free to use these prompts, and interact with the arrival or locations. NPCs are around, but only say a certain set of phrases. TDMs can be considered game canon.

This TDM takes place from the first week of May onward, and can happen concurrently with other events during May and June. This will be the only TDM for April, May, and June.

Applications are open April 26th until May 1st, and May 27th until June 1st. Invites are available for friends of current players.

All-Night Diner

Content warnings: feelings of euphoria and mild intoxication, exhaustion

There’s banner over the diner's doorway reading Welcome!, with colorful flags drooping in the heat. Inside, the waiter greets you with a wide smile and an announcement:

“Welcome to the Stardust Diner! Pie’s on the house today. Have a seat.”

During the day, the diner is just that: a diner. You can get anything on the very extensive menu, including prickly pear lemonade. The pie is free, and everything else is put on the tab for your room that will never come due, probably. It seems like a shame to eat that pie all alone! Accepting a piece of pie makes you feel like you should share this moment with someone. Luckily all the booths are plush and open, and it’s easy to plop down with a stranger to share this special moment.

At night, the mood shifts. The diner’s neon sign is a beacon against the thick darkness, beckoning you in with blinking lights and a line of text reading FORGET YOUR WORRIES. Inside, country-swing music rolls in time with throbbing red lights. The tables have been pushed aside to make room for a makeshift sticky dance floor, and the atmosphere is intoxicating.

It’s as easy as anything to be swept along with the vibes, the dancing, the intensity of it all. When you start dancing, you really do forget your worries. You forget that you don’t know how you got here and that you don’t may not even know the person beside you; you forget that you’re supposed to be anywhere else except here. Everything feels briefly perfect and beautiful, meant to be, no matter what else is happening to you.

When you stumble outside, it will be dawn, no matter how long you think you’ve been there, and you’ll be exhausted enough to simply curl up right there in the sand and fall asleep. Hope you made a friend kind enough to drag you home, or that someone wakes you up!

tl;dr:

The diner is open and the pie is free.
If you get a slice of pie, you feel compelled to share it with someone.
At night, the diner transforms into essentially a nightclub. The vibes are intoxicating and you can forget all your worries and dance the night away.
You can only leave at dawn, and your body will be exhausted. Better get help getting back to your room!

Something’s Coming

Content warnings: blood, blood-sucking, monsters

A few hours after dusk, strange creatures begin to scurry from shadow to shadow, chasing after anything that moves: chupacabras. Large ones. They’re big creatures, the size of large dogs with spikes down their spines and tails, dark and hairless with fearsome teeth. They are everywhere, and they are hungry.

They are indiscriminate in who they try to bite: the biggest among you is just as at risk as the smallest, but the bigger you are, the more of them might come for the fight. No matter where you are, there’s a risk: they seem adept at making their way into buildings. You might find one looming over your bed, resting on your chest, getting ready to bite; one might slip into the diner while you’re dancing and latch on when you’ve forgotten to be concerned.

If a chupacabra manages to bite you, it will suck your blood, and it won’t stop until you’re completely drained unless you do something about it. Having your blood sucked by one is not a pleasant experience, it’s excruciatingly painful and the creatures will do their best to keep you prone while eating their fill. The more they drink, the more exhausted you’ll get, until it’s very difficult to fight them off.

They can be killed or scared off, but the further they are into a fight or into their meal, the harder they are to get rid of. If a chupacabra has latched on to you, you’ll need help escaping!

tl;dr:

Chupacabras strike the town at dusk.
They want to suck your blood, and are indiscriminate in who they attack. They will try and drain you completely.
They can be fought or scared off. It's easier to get rid of them if you have a pal.

The Walls Have Eyes

Content warnings: eyes, trypophobia

There are eyes everywhere. They peer out of cracks in walls, the floor, the grout in your shower, an open cut in your skin. There are even eyes in the craters on the moon, staring down at you unblinking.

These eyes seem familiar, even if you don’t remember them. You feel like you do. You feel a heavy weight settle over you when you look at them, guilt curdling in the pit of your gut.

The eyes belong to someone, or someones, who you’ve hurt or let down. They belong to your greatest mistake, to someone who you left behind, to someone who you regret. The same eyes over and over again, or the eyes of many who you’ve hurt, watching you, judging you, pleading for you to save them or apologize or make up for the mistakes you may not even remember making. You just know that you made them. They eyes don't lie.

The more you ignore these eyes, the more they seem to encroach on you: appearing in the walls, following you around corners, in the creases of your knuckles, the fold of your sheets. They replace the eyes of the people around you, the same eyes staring at you from everywhere you look.

Your skin itches with the constant feeling of being watched. Your head feels tight, and your own eyes feel too full, like there’s too much of you inside your skin. You’d do anything to get away from this feeling.

Soon enough, the mounting pressure explodes: you have to confront them and your guilt and your mistakes, and beg for the forgiveness they’re asking of you. Even if you don’t remember what those mistakes were, or why you should feel guilty, you have to tell someone. If you don't, the feeling will only mount, until all you can see are eyes. Eyes, just eyes.

tl;dr:

The eyes of someone(s) who embodies your regret appear in the cracks of the world around you.
The more you ignore the eyes, the more of them appear, and the more you feel an intense, heavy sense of guilt.
The guilt you feel can be based on things you remember, or things you don't. If it's based on things you don't know, your head will also hurt.
The eyes will ease if you admit your guilt, to the best of your ability. Tell someone your guilt, and the eyes will recede.
If you don't, your whole world will become eyes.

Flat | Top-Level Comments Only

I don't see why not.

[ Almost indignant, huffy, which is perhaps a little— maybe it's not the right reaction but Flynn has no idea how he's feeling or how to fix this. He is shaky and ungrounded and exhausted, and Cecelia is holding herself together with string and grit, it seems. How does he help when he seems to be causing the problem?

By reaching up, maybe, more gently than his words would imply, and curling his palms around her wrists, tugging at her hands. ]

You're as good a reason as I have to be here.

[try though she may, Cecelia really is so, so weak to being cared for. between his words in earnest and the effort to touch her despite her having recoiled so much, what can she do but relent? she'd be a fool to fight or flee, so she may as well just be a fool to stay.

with a stifled whimper, she leans in, following the pull at her wrists to keep her face hidden. from there she quickly moves to clutch at him and bury her head against his chest.]

No, not at all! I'm so sorry!

Cecelia—!

[ It's an alarmed little yelp, followed by Flynn's arms going up, hands curled into confused fists, until he gets his bearings—hugging, she's hugging him, or something close to it, do something, Scifo—and drops them first to her arms and then to her shoulders because that's stupid but that doesn't work, either, so no, let's just—

He wraps his arms around her, first careful and then, as her apology comes spilling out, fierce. ]

You don't have anything to be sorry for, either. I don't know why I'm here, or why I've been given this chance, or... anything else, but I know that.

[she does not deserve forgiveness, let alone a hug at all, she knows. not from Flynn. it's dreadful how much her heart aches to hear his assurances and be held, starved for it. it almost makes her want to cry, but she absolutely cannot waste his breath on her pitiful weeping.

letting go is absolutely the right thing to do, but she can't make herself do that. not right away, at least.]

[ It's for the best, really, that neither of them are doing what's right. Flynn should not hold her for so long, he should ask how she made it through and what happened, how the town is the way it is—

but he can't bring himself to ask any of it. He can't bring himself to do anything but properly hold her, careful and sure, squeezing just enough to ground them both, and to murmur quietly, ]

I'm so glad you're alright.

[me?! she thinks, her head shaking a little in lieu of a scoff. i'm not the one who--!!

...well.

perhaps she--

gads, isn't it enough to just be grateful without having to be distraught at the same time?! please, let her just...relish the care and attention given her!

she does her best to for a bit, at least until she withdraw enough to look up and ensure that he is, in fact, Flynn and not some specter. feeling a fresh squeeze of relief, she rolls up on her toes and kisses his cheek before withdrawing entirely to turn partly away to wipe at her face.]

Gads... [sniffle.] Oh, if I must be a mess, it may as well be for this...!

[ Flynn startles, more at the contact than anything. It's over almost as quickly as it began, which is probably for the best because his attention is very quickly stolen by the tears on her face and the way she's pulling at them, trying to compose herself. The realization crashes in on the heels of his sudden awareness that they are in the lobby, very much in public—

With one hand pressed between her shoulders, Flynn steers her away from the center stone toward the pristine couches and the little fire crackling merrily, uselessly away. They are the same few couches that they had huddled on before, his head in her lap, before things had exploded, but Flynn will think about that later. ]

Here.

[ He murmurs, half in her ear. ]

We can get away from— you don't have to be composed. It's alright.

[ His own voice is tight, choked around the edges, wet in his throat. Relief and worry and fear coil together into a strange beast in his belly. ]

[she allows herself to be shepherded toward a seat, too busy being self-conscious to note the site's significance to their shared strife. gads, she kissed him!! sure, the compulsion was justified, but the absolute gall of her to--]

Forgive me, I-- [she shakes her head, embarrassed, sweeping her knuckles under an eye again.] I just didn't think...Rather, I haven't had the time to think that-- [she exhales, shaking her head.] Everything's changed so suddenly from one extreme to another, and now it's...it's like nothing happened at all?!

It is a little bit like waking up from a nightmare.

[ Maybe it's a little forward, after that, to keep his arm tucked around her, to stay so close, but there's something about the contact that's grounding in this strange bright familiar place. Just over there in the corner was the sand-pile Flynn had made; beyond it, a hole in the wall he'd helped Yuri patch up, now sealed like it never happened at all. ]

Or— like dreaming, and expecting to wake up back to all that destruction. I think that we're going to have some adjusting to do, and we can't expect ourselves to be at our best right now. It's alright, Cecelia.

[some nightmare...! Cecelia can't remember any so visceral - not even the unblinking eye. she shrinks into his hold; embarrassed she may be, but that doesn't make her strong enough to recoil. were she to snub his comfort, he'd vanish!

she swallows hard, trying to undo the anguished knot in her throat.]

Then...at your expense, please. Let me be weak for a little while longer.

At both of our expenses, maybe.

[ He says, too gentle, a little rough around the edges. Flynn tries with everything he has to keep the shake of fear from his voice, but sitting now on this couch with Cecelia whole and unbound at his side and the light of day streaming in, it's hard. He turns into her hair with the strange sense of something unraveling. ]

To be honest, I feel weak myself. Weak. Lost, maybe. I— it's alright for the both of us.

[she stiffens a bit, unused to having someone be this close...and being so vulnerable. being smaller helps for once; she needn't shrink to accommodate him, though she finds herself feeling strangely squirrely - as though lingering still too long was going to instigate a problem...that an equal amount of trouble would manifest counter to the comfort she gets.

her fingers curl into fists in her lap, clutching at some of her skirt.

let me be weak, she appealed, and yet already within her, she feels herself scrambling to build herself back up. not for her own sake, but his; anything to not have to hear him so wounded again. he may not blame her, but she can do that for him. easily.]

...You needn't explain it. Or excuse it. Take your time; I won't move. I don't want to.

[ Flynn is so glad for the solid presence of her, unhurt and whole. He takes a moment—a precious, terrifying moment, which feels indulgent and selfish and necessary—to just let himself breathe, and feel his own fingers and his muscles and his bones, and the shape of a trusted friend beside him.

A trusted friend who—

Goddess, Scifo. At least try. He lifts his head, guilty and reluctant. ]

Cecelia... after— I should have asked—

[ he swallows. This is not taking his time, but he has to know, now the thought has occurred to him, inexcusably late though it has. ]

How in the world did you get free? You must have, because... you're here.

[she wishes he hadn't asked. he's right to ask, of course, but still.

her head tilts down and away from him.]

She made an example of you. And left me to ruminate on it. [her voice is quieter to keep level, her sentences spaced to give her room to breathe. it helps.]

And when she returned once more to collect... Darin stopped her. He--

[the sounds had been horrifying. the squeal, the snap.

she exhales.]

He stopped her.

[ Flynn sucks in a sharp, horrified breath.

He doesn't know what he expected. That she spirited Cecelia away, perhaps, and kept her in a room, or that she let her go or worse, killed her, but—

that's perhaps the worst thing of all, an option too awful to contemplate. Flynn's grip on her shoulders tightens. It's all he can seem to do for a moment. ]

That's awful. That's... it's just— Cecelia...

It won't happen again.

[she turns her head enough to see some of him.]

If, somehow, she returns. You're not doing that again. And that's only if.

[ Flynn's glad she can't see all of him. Somehow, he thinks his words won't land well. ]

Of course if it does happen again, I'll try to be smarter about it, but I won't do nothing. You can ask almost anything of me, but not that.

[of course they don't land well, he's...!

tensely:] Far smarter, Flynn. At the very least. [because he just... ran to her. ran straight to her. and he--

she exhales, eyes squeezing shut.]

I will be.

[ Flynn says, quiet, sincere, in the face of everything Cecelia didn't say. She doesn't have to. He remembers searing, and his own helplessness, and how completely useless he was. ]

In the meantime, I'll be working to get stronger. It shouldn't have been so easy.

[at that, she finally does turn her head to look at him.]

How do you figure that? Against...magic like that. If it even happens again. Where do you even think to start, Flynn? [her eyes wince, and she looks away again.]

I'm not--saying that as if to doubt you, more just...the situation is... [she exhales in a frustrated little puff.] It's just untenable!

[ Flynn, surprisingly, lets out a sharp puffing little laugh, turns his face briefly into her hair. ]

Honestly? I have no idea! I don't know how to fight something like that. It does seem a little hopeless. It turns out I can do magic of my own, but... nothing on that scale. Did I tell you that, in the chaos?

You most certainly didn't. [she'd shoot him a Look, but he's shying away...in her hair! so maybe for the best, because that gives her cause to flush hot.] Pray, what sort of magic is it?

My apologies. I meant to. It's a little bit like yours. Healing magic.

[ Flynn still only has the barest idea of how it works, but he knows the words and he knows the pattern he has to hold in his mind, the channels the magic has to trace in order to flow out the way it does. It's something, at least. ]

I must have already known how, of course, and it's fairly basic, but... it's something that I know about myself that I didn't before. That's... nice.

It is. [she sits back so he can't hide in her hair anymore, peering up at him. she's compelled to reach up and gently touch his cheek.] That should please you, shouldn't it? Being able to take care of people like that.

[ Grounding, in a strange and fluttering sort of way, to be known so well when he barely even knows himself. Flynn lets himself lean very slightly into Cecelia's fingers, thinking of mended things and cracks resealing themselves into nothing. ]

It does. Especially since it's not a new skill. It means that... whoever I am, I at least care enough about people's wellbeing to learn it. Like you.

2.0 Test Drive Meme

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

(no subject)

(no subject)

(no subject)

(no subject)

(no subject)

(no subject)

(no subject)