soddersays | OCTOBER 2020 TEST DRIVE MEME

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OCTOBER 2020 TEST DRIVE MEME

Welcome to October's Test Drive Meme! This month's Test Drive's theme is: MONSTER HORROR.

All Test Drive Memes contain at least one clue to the Deerington's upcoming in-game events for the month! Keep your eyes peeled! But...not literally.

Characters may die during TDMs, but you do not need to count it towards a game-canonical death unless you want to. Consider it a freebie. All TDMs can be considered game canon as TDMs introduce minor aspects about the world of Deerington that can be revisited by characters later on in the game. You may also use TDMs for your application writing sample as well as AC.

CW: ... Monsters..., excessive blood, possible death via monster or drowning, violence, being trapped in tight spaces, bloody GIF, dead body parts
Don't forget to tag content whenever necessary. Have fun!

Prompt One
Prompt Two
Character Arrival
Master Navigation

curse the fiends

Waking up groggy and confused on the floor of what seems to be a large metal warehouse is never anyone's idea of a good time, but here you are. You may not have even known Deerington had warehouses (except for those who have been to the real Hair of the Dog) let alone how to get to one of them. It's clear you've been placed here against your will, but for what reason?

You aren't alone. There may be one, two, or even three people there with you. You're all in this together, so you may as well work as a team to see if there's a way out. The room isn't very large and it's completely empty, save for a single flashlight in the center of the floor. The only way out (or maybe it's a way in) is a long, narrow, and very dark corridor. That's gotta be completely safe. Despite hesitations, what choice do you really have?

The flashlight won't give off an abundance of light, but it at least makes it so you aren't stumbling around blindly. As you move through the corridors, you'll start to hear the sickening screech like nails on a chalkboard, but there's something worse about it. Something that makes you feel like a bucket of ice has just been dropped down your back. Something dangerous. There are different corridors that branch off of the main one you're walking down and your team will have to decide whether to stick together an choose one path or split up and explore multiple to find away out. Given that you've only got one source of light, you'll want to choose carefully.

Whether you stay together or split up, the corridors all look the same. The same sound follows you wherever you go. Eventually you'll start to notice it sounds close. Too close. Like it's right... above you?

Looking up, you'll see a large monster which jumps down in front of your team within seconds of having the light turned on it. The beast takes up the majority of the space in the corridor and there's no getting around it. Time to double back and try out one of those other passages, it seems. Hopefully you can run quickly. It's not the only thing that's jumping out of the shadows to try and hunt you, either. The large creature is working with a smaller set of monsters who seem to appear out of nowhere, their footsteps impossible to hear, but the screeches they give are almost deafening. If you split up earlier, maybe you'll run into each other now; it seems like the monsters are herding you together, trying to make you easier to hunt.

The small monsters can be killed easily. Any weapons you have will work against them, no more than a couple of shots from a gun or a good hard swing of a blade will be needed to take them down. The big beast you first ran into is another story. Nothing seems to work to slow this guy down. It'll bleed, sure, the injuries are more than apparent, but it doesn't seem to make the monster any weaker. If anything, it just makes it more irate. The only chance of living is getting out.

If you're lucky, you'll eventually turn enough corridors to see cracks of light at the end of one. Light that seems to be coming through a door. If you can outrun the monster down this long, straight stretch, it seems to actually be your exit. The door is heavy and the lock is a little rusty, but with a little team effort, you should be able to get the thing shoved open. Slam it closed before the monster can get out and you'll find yourself safe again.

fear the old blood

It's just the month for getting stuck in tiny rooms. This time, walking through any door in Deerington could land you inside this cramped closet with far too tall ceilings. Again, it seems you aren't alone; the wall on the opposite side of the closet seems to have brought in someone the same as you. The doors behind you both disappear and it seems like you're completely trapped. There's shelves all around you, completely empty, but they've got to hold a purpose, right? You may take some time to look them over, see if there is some kind of switch or hidden compartment they might be blocking.

While you're observing the cramped space around you, trying to find a way out, you might hear the sound of air rushing from above you, almost like the sounds of an elevator shaft. There's a ding, a click, the sound of doors opening— all from the ceiling up above. It's a way out! But nothing ever comes so easily in Deerington. Within seconds of the doors cracking open, blood will start to fill the room, pouring in from your only exit.

Working together and using the shelves as leverage, you might just be able to reach the ceiling to pull yourself up (and hopefully your partner), but you'll have to push against the downpour of blood in the process. It's far from easy, definitely slippery, and you'll have to move quickly if you don't want to end up drowning. Waiting it out for the room to fill so you can reach the top easier will prove to be a horrible idea; the moment the blood reaches the top of those bookshelves, rotting hands will begin to reach from the walls, dragging you down and keeping you from getting to the top.

Once you have both made it into the exit above, the doors will close, and the elevator will right itself. There's no blood anywhere to be found and there also isn't a button to press to choose any floors. You'll simply hear the sound of the elevator climbing the shaft before the doors open again, and you'll be let out into the lobby of the Grady Hotel.

Time to head home and take a shower, I guess.

Character Arrival

You can read how all characters arrive in Deerington here.

There is not a collective "all these characters showed up at the exact same moment" occurrence in Deerington. Since characters fall asleep, die, or pass out at various times throughout all their worlds, it wouldn't make too much sense if they arrived in game all at the exact same time. There should be some discrepancy between character arrival, whether by a couple minutes, hours, or even days up to a week.

The players are entirely in control of how/when they want to play their characters arriving in Deerington. For TDMs, you can play it like your character has just arrived and that can be maintained as your game canon, or you can wait until game events for that moment. Or you don't need to acknowledge it at all. The flexibility for character allows a bit more of an organic feel to the character arrival situation, so please play it to whatever feels right for you.

If you are interested in having an "arrival" introduction for one of your TDM prompts, you are more than welcome to explore that option.

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[ Seconds tick by, and though Dean's pulling everything he needs out of that kit and putting it together - suture string through the needle, tweezers to hold it steady, scissors set on the couch next to Cas' thigh for quick access when he's done. He's going through the motions, relying on autopilot and muscle memory, remembering the actions he has to take rather than why he has to take them.

He does all this in that same dense silence, eyes lifted to focus on the wound he needs to suture. And then Cas speaks and that's what breaks him. Breaks his resolve to stay silent and keep his shit away from what's supposed to be patching Cas up. His vision blurs, eyes stinging, and his nostrils flare in some last ditch attempt to keep it together. He can't. So his gaze drops, fixes unseeingly on Cas' knee, and eventually he has to blink, has to close his eyes against the burning with his head bowed.

There's no mistaking the drops that fall, soaking into the fabric of Cas' pants, on the exposed skin beneath those rips. And Dean says nothing about them, just lifts a forearm and wipes across his eyes before looking back up again. Carefully, he starts suturing that wound, and as he does, he finally speaks, voice rough with all the tears he's denied falling. ]

I'm gonna patch you up and you're gonna stay here until whatever the hell's goin' on outside is over. But after that...

[ He finally looks up to Cas' face, eyes just a little more bloodshot than they were a couple minutes ago. ]

You need to get as far away from me as you can 'cause I'm not good for you, Cas. And the only place I'm gonna lead you is a place I don't want you to follow.

[ Life has chewed up him, found him lacking, and spat him out. Yet there are a few things in Cas' life that fall into place and make sense - not always in a way he wants them to, but nevertheless. In the end, he stands by Dean whether he's wanted or not. That's a very simple truth.

Dean's reaction tilts Cas' small, simple world entirely on its axis, and he remembers the boy he once saw, the summer sunset soul behind bent and damanged wrought iron and stained glass, and Cas aches for everything this boy has suffered that Cas could not and would not spare him from, that has hardened him and made him unkind where Cas used to believe that Dean Winchester was made for many better things, kindness among them.

Tears, though...

Cas doesn't understand what he did, what he said, what happened. The world is white noise, and for a moment, the words barely register. He feels his chest tighten, feels something sink into him cold and deep, feels his thoughts spiral 'no no no no', and yet it takes his mind a moment to catch up.

Shit.

Shit. ]

No.

[ He can't move. He's just staring at Dean, wide eyed, barely registering the work Dean's doing, numb to the world outside of the fact that he broke Dean. Being sent to his death was one thing. Being sent away? No. Inconceivable. He does not accept it, and will not survive it. ]

No. You want my help.

[ He'd said so. Dean said so. For a moment, Cas' lips are parted, mind sluggishly trying to wrap around something that will take back whatever he screwed up this time. No matter how bad it got, he'd never been sent away, only to his death, and that's... better than the alternative. ]

I'm... not leaving you alone.

[ Dean may have a liger, but Cas believes that at the end of the world, at the end of all that mattered, him and Dean, they were all they'd each had left in so many ways.

Surely, that is still true.

Surely. ]

[ This is the first time since he's been in the town that he's actually fixed somebody instead of ignoring them or breaking them. The thought drops into his mind from nowhere, and even as he's finishing up the last suture and tying it off, he's quiet. Snipping the string with those scissors, he finally looks away and leans for the bag again to fish out dressing.

Exhaling slowly, he finally stops with the dressing and medical tape in his hands, now on his knees because his legs starting hurting a while back crouched down like he was. This isn't where he thought he'd be today, this time yesterday. ]

I'm not asking you to leave me alone.

[ It's an important distinction, he realizes belatedly, and slowly looks up at Cas with an expression that looks partway wrecked. Emotionally drained. Overwhelmed. And guilty. So guilty. ]

But I don't trust myself. I don't trust myself with you. You already gave me everything you have. And what did I do for you?

[ And just like that, Cas sways forward, half into Dean's personal space, and grabs him by the shoulders. He's perched precariously on the edge of the couch, weight put on Dean, frown firmly in place, and eyes, hazy as they may be, so full of everything Cas ever was and ever could have been and ever became. ]

You gave me choice.

[ And his fingers dig in. ]

I'm... not your hammer. You led, but I chose to follow.

[ To his death. Because he believed, in the end, that the shot had to be worth it. And if it wasn't, well what was there left for them after that anyway, in a dying world.

And at the end of the day, he'd rather die worthlessly in the dirt than serve an unworthy Heaven. ]

You sent me, but I chose to go.

[ Whatever world the two of them have left behind, Dean isn't the same. He's not who he used to be three months ago, and he's not who he used to be before that either. He's not one of them, and maybe at this point he's a bit of both, but Cas? Dean has no idea how to explain to him what he means. Why he thinks Cas should walk away and not look back.

He meant what he said. He's not good for Cas, and Dean can try as hard as he likes to be better but he's never going to be who he was, and he'll never be somebody who's headed somewhere good.

The whiskey bottle is in the kitchen, sitting abandoned on the counter, but now Dean's wishing he could take a long, necessary pull from it. The hands at his shoulders aren't physically heavy, but they carry enough weight that eventually he looks up. ]

Let me see your back.

[ He hasn't forgotten the bleeding tattoo, but he also doesn't know what to say to all of that. So instead he's going to fall back on what he knows best. Actions over words. ]

[ Cas doesn't comply immediately. He searches Dean's face instead, for a long few seconds, before he shifts himself back and turns around, wincing a little at the movement. Dean's done a good job, of that he has no doubt. Still, Cas is glad for the painkillers hitting his system.

They're... not good. And they will likely never be.

Truth be told, Cas doesn't know why he clings so hard to something that clearly spells ruin for them both. His presence was enough to reduce Dean to tears.

if that's not fucked up, he doesn't quite know what is.

Still he tries to cling to the flippant though. Tries not to think deeper. Tries not to feel more deeply, too.

Fails. ]

I, uhm. Am not sure I appreciate the... artistic vision.

[ He rolls his shoulders slightly, feeling the dull ache on his shoulder blades. Antlers looking like wing stumps. He's too sober for this place. ]

[ There's some relief in Cas turning away, like not being caught in his line of sight gives him somewhere to hide. And he feels shitty about wanting to hide, knows that it's cowardly and not something he ever thought he'd be glad for. He's not glad, just exhausted. ]

Nobody gets to choose.

[ His own sits high enough at the top of his spine that when he's not wearing a shirt with a collar it's visible to anybody who wants to take a look at it. But when he'd arrived it had taken weeks for him to even know he had it. But the tattoo Cas has? It feels cruel as hell, even to him. ]

But this town's that kinda place.

[ Cruel, so far. He frowns at the blood smeared across Cas' back and finally leans down to pick up a cloth to douse in that antiseptic. ]

Guessin' this is gonna hurt.

[ Which is an apology, just not shaped in 'I'm sorry' words. ]

[ When does anyone ever get a choice, except to choose death, apparently? Good to know that the themes of their lives will hold true, here. Establishing a familiar base line is oh so very important, and they've both come to learn not to expect good things in life. ]

Hm... what doesn't?

[ Cas hears the apology for the pain to come in those words. He... doesn't quite think he's ready for that, even if it is just about the clean up, the dressing of wounds. Cas already feels like he's choking on Dean's guilt and his own utterly unadressed feelings about his death and his shitshow of an existence.

Life's never been fair to either of them.

But they're here, and Dean's not sending him away, and Cas isn't leaving. So... that must count for something.

And when Dean presses that cloth to his back, Cas jumps, hisses, and hides his face in the crook of his own arm.

In a way it's worse than the sutures - he's had those before. This is different, new, and he doesn't do well with that. ]

[ There's no follow-up apology. He already did that, and saying it again isn't going to make that sting of antiseptic against the bloody tattoo any less. Usually he'd be offering something strong to help provide a different kind of burn, but since Cas popped a couple painkillers that don't play nice with alcohol, that's off the table.

By the time he's finished cleaning the blood away and squinting at what's underneath, the cloth looks more like a bloody rag than anything. More gauze is pressed over the newly cleaned stretch of skin, medical tape fastening it in place, and then Dean's standing up. It's hard to see in a room lit only by candle light and the fire making shadows dance on the walls, but there's not exactly electricity to fall back on right now. ]

This place isn't always like this.

[ He's wiping his hands off now, but he knows he's going to have to go wash them soon enough. He wouldn't put it past half the monsters here to know the smell of blood when they catch it in the air. ]

Haven't seen daylight in a week.

[ So it's not a permanently shrouded in darkness kind of nightmare realm, it just currently pretends to be. Lovely. Cas is still slumped, forehead against the backrest of the couch and just focused on breathing until the searing pain fades.

Judge him, he might no longer be a baby in a trench coat but even he is willing to admit that he is a baby about pain. ]

Alright... think it's time for a brief?

[ They might not have a war room here, but well. Cas is sure they can make do even without the slightly more organized atmosphere.

So he finally sits back up and turns around, elbows on his knees, and glassy eyes pivoting to Dean.

He recalls, then, that Dean didn't actually die to come here - but Cas did. And if that isn't delightfully strange and messed up, he doesn't know what is. ]

[ Clearing up the bloodied rags, the wrappers and packaging everything came in, he balls it all up between his hands and finally sits on a rickety wooden chair set off to the side of the couch. It's not comfortable but considering where things are at right now? He's planning on giving Cas some space. His eyes flick up briefly to the incense over by the window, and it's still burning. Only once he's satisfied he can stay still for the next five minutes does he think about explaining. ]

Been here for three months. It's uh... it's a dream. Or somethin'.

[ He's heard things around, definitely not anything that gives him a solid idea of what the hell they're up against here outside of month after month of new monsters and psychological torment. The monsters? Oh he's got plenty of experience to deal with those. The psychological torment is the less fun part. He says nothing about any of this, just frowns and continues. ]

People from all over get pulled here. Not just from one world but from any world. Since I got here, we've had robo Care Bears, guilt shadows, trials that end with a death sentence, these douchebag noise monsters I've never seen before, ghosts... it's been a ride.

So, uh... not quite a regular Thursday. Even for us.

[ Cas cocks an eyebrow, but does end up rubbing his temple. Guilt shadows, death sentences and ghosts stand out to him in particular and...

Oh. Oh.

Cas licks his dry lips, reaches for the glass of water and just holds it to occupy his hands. Smooth glass. ]

You didn't... see me and randomly become paraoid about shapeshifters, huh.

[ Cas doesn't mention the Colt. They both remember that little exchange, after all. ]

You've seen me here before.

[ Cas would congratulate himself on discovering, briefly, that indeed his mind still has sharp edges beneath the numbing blanket he keeps putting over it. Except he's more preoccupied thinking back to the tears, to Dean asking him to walk away and not follow. He doesn't know what to do with the fact that his throat is suddenly too dry, and something sits heavy in his sternum, like lead. ]

Not exactly. Not all that far from Croats and demons sometimes but… no Lucifer.

[ Which is probably evidence enough that Dean's come from a point in the timeline where he hadn't even faced off with the devil yet. Maybe if this wasn't right in the middle of a damn near apocalyptic feeling week, Dean might even explain that while there isn't a Lucifer here, there's a Sam - not that he's been able to get hold of him yet, and the house is empty - and a Cas… with powers. But he honestly doesn't have the energy and not sleeping for a week has left him with just enough mental capacity to stay safe outside and suture up a wound. He feels wrecked in ways that he knows aren't going to change for as long as he has this insomnia. It's never been this bad before.

But he's not going to lie, and he's not going to pretend like some people hadn't been able to see a shadowy of Cas trailing behind him a few months back. ]

No. I didn't see you. Everybody else did.

[ Letting out a heavy breath, he scrubs a tired hand over his face forgetting that it has dried blood on it. It just doesn't feel all that important right now against the real possibility that he might just fall over at any point all thanks to sleep deprivation. He hasn't looked back up from the floor, vision swimming and forcing him to blink hard a few times to try righting it again. ]

You were my guilt shadow.

Yeah, okay, that's... hm.

[ Cas looks at Dean, brows furrowed... and then rolls his eyes so hard he sways with the motion, seamlessly using the small momentum to pitch himself forwards and grab for the bag of supplies, coming away with nothing more than some cloth that he dips into his not quite empty glass of water. ]

So, uh. First...

[ He gestures vaguely. ]

Don't punch me.

[ And with that quite reasonable request, in his opinion, Cas moves over, and crouches by Dean's side, reaching up and dabbing the damp cloth against Dean's skin, wiping away the dried blood with... well, mostly surprising gentleness, but not so much that he doesn't, for a moment, curl his fingers around Dean's chin a little too tightly. ]

Second... how about we, uhm... don't say things like that while smearing our friend's blood across our faces, hm? I think... we can agree on that. Yeah.

[ Dean's face cleaned, Cas unceremoniously grabs his hand, holds it in his and begins wiping the blood away there, too. ]

Fourth... no, wait. Was I on three? Hm....

[ He pauses, eyes going glassy as his mind skips down a side-path until he shakes his head, dismissing the musings about numbers. Carefully unfurls Dean's fingers and trails the damp cloth along the length of the inside of Dean's index finger, base to tip and back. ]

Whatever, uhm... number we're on... [ He's not holding Dean's hand, technically, he's just cleaning it. If he squeezes it, that's between them. ] I'm here, now. You stitched me up. All better.

[ Dean broke it, Dean fixed it. Sure, that might not be the end of the story, and Cas...while certainly not about to hold a grudge, certainly isn't over how Dean's been treating him, not more so than he was before at least. But he bristles at the idea of this place butting their mutual pain and trauma on display for others. ]

I'm here.

Punch you?

[ As far as he knows, Cas hasn't done anything yet to be worthy of a swing, but he's quickly getting with the program when there's a damp cloth pressed to his face. He doesn't flinch, exactly, but his expression does tighten into something uncomfortable. It wouldn't matter who was doing this for him, he'd still find it hard to take, harder still to match up the kind of care and attention somebody might take for him when he's been so bad at it for the last few years with anybody else.

He hasn't been kind, and he knows that. Knows that of all the people who got hit the worse because of it? Cas has paid time and time again the toll for trying to be anywhere near him. Three months in this town and he's already been taught lesson after lesson on how much he doesn't know, how much he'd forgotten, and this feels like another one.

Tiredness dampens down any further reaction he might have to what Cas goes on to do, and by the end of it - hand squeeze provoking only the briefest eye contact - he's as close to sleep as he's going to get. It's still frustratingly, maddening out of his reach. Cas' declaration of 'all better' finally catches at that frustration, and eventually Dean snorts derisively. There isn't an all better for either of them. That's not how life works, that's not how this town works, and that's not how either of them work. ]

There's nothing all better about this situation. And I say this not trying to be an asshole to you... but I wish you weren't here, man. This place? It's like Hell all over again.

[ Maybe not in atmosphere - there's been less chains and fire and torture racks so far - but the whole idea of being stuck here, subjected to constant psychological trauma. This is exactly the Hell he'd have chosen to inflict on Lucifer. ]

You did what I asked you to do and this is what you got for it. That's not all better.

[ Standing pulls his hands out of Cas' and he's stepping away before there's a chance for the fallen angel to try again. The stained glass window still looms, and he's trying not to look at it either but he's running out of things to look at trying to avoid so many other things. Now that he's put some space between himself and the kind, soft actions he knows he doesn't deserve, he clears his throat and starts putting back anything that can be saved into the medical bag. Catching sight of his now clean hands, he slows to a stop and exhales heavily. Manners. He used to have those. ]

...but thanks. For the... help.

[ Anyone but Dean himself might be surprised at the fact that Dean's reaction is, after a moment, met with a laugh. It doesn't quite reach Cas' eyes, but it's also not as empty as it could be given the circumstances. He slides into the chair Dean abandoned, letting his legs sprawl gracelessly. ]

Whoa, just... hm. Look at you. Manners. How positively nostalgic.

[ There's a little bit of bite there, because how could there not be - but there's also a level of genuine amusement. That must have cost Dean years off his life, to squeeze a 'thank you' past his lips. It's impressive, really. Cas would applaud, if he didn't feel like that might genuinely earn him a black eye. ]

And as for the rest, well. No offense taken. The feeling is, uhm... quite mutual. I happen to... also wish I'd stayed dead this time around.

[ Less than amused in comparison, Dean's a little rougher about shoving the medical bag back together and picking it up. It's been a long, long time since he could be considered naive, and whatever this situation is between them, he knows better than to leave medication of any kind lying around. Maybe he would have said something along those lines, back in there world. For now? He just turns to face Cas lounging in that chair and all that's left of his annoyance is the way his nostrils flare briefly. ]

It's gonna be a long-- however long this lasts. If it ever goes back to the way things were.

[ Both of them have experience of things definitely not going back to the way things were, and the barb about nostalgia spikes something uncomfortable into his chest again. It takes effort to make his next offer. ]

Blankets and a spare pillow's in a bag next room over. You're on the couch. Get some sleep.

[ Hell knows he hasn't been able to, and that's making already rough edges jagged with exhausted energy. The liger puts in an appearance, winds itself around the back of Dean's legs and its so big it brushes across his lower back. ]

I got some things to take care of but later? We're making a plan.

[ Cas still can't fully wrap his head around 'here' and what 'here' entails, and part of him doesn't want to. He gave everything that he had ever been - his death was earned, and his rest deserved.

And now... well. Now here he is.

And here they are.

Once again, stuck in the strangest situation. Well... no, this one wins. This is stranger than Lucifer releasing a virus to eradicate humanity. Cas... isn't sure if being here with Dean is better than being here alone. Of course, not being here... preferrable, by a long shot. ]

Yes s---

[ He was about to fling out a 'yes sir', but stumbles on it.

but later? We're making a plan.

Cas sighs. Swallows.

Fiiiiine. He can play a little nicer, too. ]

Yes, Dean.

[ And with that, he makes his bed, knowing he has to lie in it, too. ]

Flat | Top-Level Comments Only

OCTOBER 2020 TEST DRIVE MEME

OCTOBER 2020 TEST DRIVE MEME

curse the fiends

fear the old blood

Character Arrival

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cw: brief mention of pandemic-style apocalypse