January 2024 Test Drive Meme: Our First!

[sweetmod]

Welcome to the Simulation: Our First Test Drive

Taken | Reserves | Application | Activity | TDM Questions | Premise | FAQ | Calendar Full Navigation Reserves open 01/27/2024 @ 12:00 AM EST Reserves close 01/31/2024 @ 11:59 PM EST Welcome to our Test Drive Meme! Our Test Drive Memes are considered game canon and are open to current players and prospective new players alike! It is completely optional to keep your TDM threads as canon to your character's experience in the game, so feel free to play around and enjoy the flexibility before applying! All TDM threads can be used for samples for your application and activity proofs. All TDMs come with an additional greeting message from Daisy in addition to her typical Welcome Message. This is her message for newbies for this month: "Hi there, Sweet Subjects! Congratulations on being the Very First Batch! That also means you're the first friends I've made for this whole project! Isn't that exciting? Unfortunately, I have to already apologize to you. You see, I wasn't expecting you quite so soon! My math was a little off and well...There are a few kinks in the system I'm working out. But don't worry! I'll take care of everything. You can trust me. After all, we are friends, and it would be very rude to not trust your friends! Why don't you just stay inside this little house while I fix things up? You'll be safe! P̴̥̾̉r̸̢̋́̓̀̏ó̵̧͖̈́̏̋͊̅̋̕͘b̵̛̺̞̦̳̙͒͘͜ä̸͓̗̯̺̰́̿̆͘͠b̶̭͔̯̆̒̐l̵̨̬̬̱̱̙͔̻̊̾́͠͝y̶̰̺̲̝͙͈̝͙̟̖͑̆̾̀̀͒͝!̶̱͚͙͉̠̓̒́̌̽̌̚͝ Remember: Don't open the door to strangers. Anyway! In the meantime, get to know your fellow Sweet Subjects! After all, you're going to be spending a lot of time together! Thank you for understanding! Good luck! Prompt One | Prompt Two

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Summary: 🌼 Content Warnings: Optional light alcohol, isolation, bad weather via thunderstorms, feeling of being watched and taunted, false information, mental manipulation, memory manipulation, memories or depictions of murder and torture 🌼 Characters wake up in an unfamiliar house during a thunderstorm. They hear Daisy's broadcast on the TV. There is a persistent knocking at the door, but you know you shouldn't open it. 🌼 Another character (or more) is in the house with you. Pictures of you both begin to take up the walls. Of memories you either really experienced or false memories. They increasingly become more violent. 🌼 A radio broadcast warns Sweet Acres residents about an escaped criminal. Paranoia grows between characters. Violence out of deluded "self-defense" may occur. 🌼 The true escape from this prompt is to just open the door. Outside, all is well and you realize the house was one giant mind fuck...Or hopefully, you realize. Your memories might be a little scrambled now. There is a knock at the door. You mustn't answer the door. It has been a long, long, long day, hasn't it? You don't even remember sitting on the couch and you certainly don't remember dozing off. But that strange broadcast certainly woke you up and now...You are here. In an unfamiliar house with outdated wallpaper and dirty carpet. The weather outside seems frightful. Torrential downpours with clashing thunder and flashes of lightning chase even the most persistent shadows in the house. Was the lady on the TV serious? Did you just have to wait in this lousy place for the storm to blow over? Or, wait, how did she word it? Wait while things finish configuration. Damn, your head is hurting and you could use a drink. Hopefully, the tacky yellow kitchen has a stocked fridge. Luckily for you, it's filled with fresh food and some fresh booze. There is a knock at the door. You mustn't answer the door. Unluckily for you, there is another person in this house with you. They might have woken up on the same couch as you or are bumping around upstairs. Either way, the freak in the polka-dot dress wasn't wrong: You're not alone here. When you and whoever else in this house finally join up, you will notice that the house seems to become a bit more lively. The pictures on the wall change to feature you or your companion. Some of the pictures are genuine from back in your homeworld, but others...Not so much. Others look like false memories of you with families you don't even remember or at a school you never attended, but they are all so real you can't help but think maybe Daisy is telling the truth after all. There is a heavier knock at the door. You mustn't answer the door. There is a radio in the house that suddenly begins to declare an emergency announcement: "At this time, we urge all residents of Sweet Acres to seek shelter immediately. The wind is picking up and we anticipate this storm to last the rest of the night - Oh? This just in: a convict has managed to break into Sweet Acres. We are told that they were last seen in...Oh, oh my...Whatever you do, make sure your doors and windows are locked. And remember: don't answer the door. And remember: don't trust strangers." A heavy booming knock lands three times at the front door. Let. Me. In. The pictures around the house begin to change. Now it shows you and whoever you're sharing the house with doing some...terrible things. Maybe some of it is true. Some of it may be completely false. Will it matter when the pictures seem so terrifyingly real? What happens when the TV glitches on and starts to play sketchy home videos of one of you doing something terrible? What happens when the radio starts to play terrifying audio of you confessing to an atrocious crime? What happens when the person you're stuck in the house with might just be the stranger the radio warned you about? Or will you have the sense to realize that something is very wrong here and that you're both being played a fool? The knocking at the door is only getting louder. So loud it cracks the door. The storm worsens. What should you do? The madness will only worsen the longer you stay. You may even be driven to defend yourself from each other, you may come to develop false memories of crimes you didn't commit. You may just... Decide to open that damn door already. It turns out, that's what you needed to do the entire time. Because the moment you do? You open the door and see a beautiful, sunny day outside. No rain. Not a single gray cloud. Certainly no horrifying stranger either. But now you're left with whatever you did or thought from the house. For some people, the terror may slip away as easily as the rain, but for some of you, you might be stuck with paranoia and suspicion. Welcome to Sweet Acres. back to top ⤴

[ The Bot Problem ]

Summary: 🌼 Content Warnings: Forced sexuality, optional sex, aphrodisiac style computer virus, dubious consent, hunted by machines, use of bombs, guns, and shrapnel. Possible character death or maiming 🌼 Sex Bots are spreading a virus to those that touch them that will cause player characters to go around flirting with others. They can either get rid of the "virus" by having sex or meeting someone who can hack it out of their system by asking grounding questions (or any other creative means a player may have). 🌼 Characters are hunted down by violent little metal boxes known as metal dogs. The metal dogs are extremely resilient but can be destroyed by extreme measures. These metal dogs are intent on killing and maiming characters and plants. You will notice that there are still some errors in the system as you go out and about exploring your new town. There will be an occasional glitch that opens up a screaming void of bottomless darkness before it blinks out of existence. Those are unsettling enough, but at least they don't seem harmless. The bots, on the other hand, are a different story. They glitch into the town, cracking through this carefully structured reality like breaking through a window. It seems like Daisy has a lot of work to do on the external firewalls of Sweet Acres! In the meantime, you're going to have to deal with her incompetence. The Sex Bots A lot of the bots can easily be mistaken for other residents in town. These are model-gorgeous women and men who almost seemed like caricatures of stereotypical beauty conventions. Big lips, huge hips, large muscles, chiseled jaws, perfect hair, pearly white teeth. These beauties flounce about and no matter who or what you are, if they look your way, they are immediately approaching you. "Hey, sexy. I'm single, horny, and lonely. I just turned 18 and I've got my daddy's credit card." "I've never seen a person more beautiful than you. I'm the CEO of at least three different six-figure income businesses. How about I take you on a night out in my Ferrari?" There isn't a single thought behind those eyes or in those smiles. If you have the thought to rely on your Daze, you can just block the Sex Bots and they will blink out of existence. Alternatively, you could probably just smash them out of existence with a good punch or the swing of a weapon...They will just vanish into a cloud of corrupt coding. But if you're a bit more gullible and still catching up on the strangeness of this place or can't figure out Daze, you might make the mistake of responding to one of these bots. The Bot will immediately scan you for all of your information and warp its features into something that you actually would find to be the ideal beauty. "This is better, right?" It's hard to deny...They even sound like the ideal beauty in your mind. A gentle hand on your arm and then they are leading you away. Except they aren't leading you anywhere. You watch helplessly as coding goes up your arm and begins to consume your body. You can't feel anything but a prickling sensation. The Bot vanishes, but you are left rewired. Now it is you with the dramatic features emphasizing your most attractive parts. Regardless of your personality, you suddenly feel the urge to walk up to just about anyone anywhere and flirt with them. Whether stupidly or sincerely. It's hard to remember yourself with the bot's virus wreaking havoc on your Daze. Worst case scenario? You wind up sleeping with someone because of this bizarre virus, but you will also ironically get it out of your system this way and feel completely normal after. Alternatively, you can find someone who is a bit more tech-savvy with the Daze and who might have an idea of how to hack into your system and get rid of the virus for you. This might involve some personal line of questioning, but hey, at least you're not walking around asking for sex from total strangers anymore! The Metal Dogs The Sex Bots are a dream compared to the other virus attacking the system of Sweet Acres. One will begin to see small metal robots trotting about, no bigger than a backpack, with lethal determination. These metal dogs scour their surroundings for anything organic or anything that doesn't belong in the space. This means they are actively ripping up plants and destroying trees, which is tragic enough, but just be glad they haven't seen you yet because it turns out that Daisy's Sweet Subjects are the metal dog's top priority. The moment they notice you, they will begin a neverending chase. These robots can catch up to a speeding car and resist an enormous amount of damage. They are waterproof and run on their own network completely disconnected from the Daze, so good luck trying to hack into them- it won't work. They can see just as well in the dark as the light and have sensors that allow them to pick up on body temperature as well as any vibrations you might make. They are not gentle creatures: their goal is to terminate all organic beings and Sweet Subjects in the area. If they catch you, they will immediately attempt to blow your head off with a small gun they can form. Alternatively, they will expel a shrapnel bomb if you catch them off guard. They also have paralyzing fog bombs. Metal dogs can be destroyed, however. With large explosions, armor-piercing weaponry, people with extreme super strength. Or you can get creative! Maybe you know a spell that can turn them into a stuffed animal or melt the metal. Maybe you have control over metal beings. There are ways to destroy these things. But don't worry. If worse comes to worse, Daisy is going around to destroy them for you. But do you really want to owe her your life? back to top ⤴

Comments

[doublycursed]

The weird flirtatious people go staggering back -- although Izutsumi's not sure they're people at all, because they don't smell like flesh and blood, they smell like metal -- and she does one final flail, fur puffed up, shaking off like she's getting the remains of their touch off of her.

"Aw, but we were just being friendly," the female one says silkily, recovering, checking her hair is okay.

"Maybe you'd prefer that we be friendly with you instead?" the man oozes, flashing all of his teeth in a blinding white smile at the newcomer.

Izutsumi scampers behind her rescuer, using her as a shield, because she could fight the weird flirty people, but she's feeling so gross that she doesn't even want to risk touching them. She might get infected with their... weird smiles or Too Much Gender. "Shove them again, but even harder this time!" she insists, grabbing a handful of the back of her rescuer's robe, holding on.

[doublycursed]

Her hand is forced away from the doorknob, and Izutsumi shows her displeasure with a hiss, ears pinned back, eyes wild. She might actually look threatening for a second, if whatever's on the other side of that door didn't choose that moment to bang on it louder than the storm's thunder, making Izutsumi yelp, her tail puffing up to twice its size.

"Whatever's knocking, I can take it," she insists. "It can't be that big, I've killed way bigger monsters. Whatever that stupid clown thing said, we don't have to stay here. I won't stay here."

The guy looks super nervous, though. Izutsumi gets it. She's not exactly happy herself.

"Let me through." Her eyes narrow, intent. "I'll kill it and we'll be free. It'll be easy." Never mind that she's not thinking about anything further than getting out the door, like... the storm outside, or where they are, or how they got here. One thing at a time.

[doublycursed]

"I'm human," she spits. "Tallman. Short-lived. Whatever you call it."

Come to think of it, maybe she's not unfamiliar with people having a fetish. She doesn't really pay a whole lot of attention to other people, but a lot of people stare at her. She'd always put it down to disgust at her obvious beastkin traits, so unnatural in her world, but some of them had smiled and looked interested and...

Ugh! Now she feels gross. She needs to go take a bath.

"Robot," she repeats, standing up as she tests the word thoughtfully. Metal people made out of a magic called coding. If Marcille were here, she'd probably be super interested. All Izutsumi wants to know is how she can avoid them, or kill them if they get in her way too much. "Will punching them work? You used a sword."

(A lot of people like breasts? Hmm. Does Izutsumi have a preference between breasts or pectorals? If she really had choose, she thinks she'd choose breasts. She doesn't really have a type she's attracted to, and she's never really been in a position to think about those kinds of things.)

More to the point: "Also, why are there flirty bots?" she asks, lost. "I woke up on a stupid couch with some stupid clown thing talking at me, and I'm in some stupid town I don't know, and now stupid flirty bots are annoying me. I'm pretty sure I saw metal dogs, too?"

[doublycursed]

Izutsumi points down the street, where at least three more of the weird sex bots are striding toward them. They don't look like they've spotted them yet, though, so they're not coming right for them.

Getting off the street is a good idea, so Izutsumi hurries toward an alleyways between two shops, slipping into the cover of shadow that it provides. She crouches down behind a big metal thing that she can't identify (it's different from the other metal things with wheels that she also can't identify), and gestures.

"There's no sex bots here, come on! Before they spot you!"

[kobes]

Oh, she's hissing. That isn't great, that isn't the outcome Koby wants. He also jumps about a mile at the knocking and the thunder, and truly if he were able to fluff up in displeasure, he would.

But he tries to keep his voice low, soothing, gentle. "You don't need to kill anything. If the person who brought us here is strong enough to do that, I don't think we should go up against any potential threats without thinking it through. Right?"

[kobes]

...that sounds like a terrible place to find love. [Koby says this very seriously, like he's at all a romantic. Which he isn't. Not really. But still.]

There's nothing romantic about having your worse memories brought out for everyone to see.

[kobes]

She absolutely could -- if Koby were a little older, a little more experienced, he might have a chance, but he's barely a couple months into his Marine career and has mostly done a whole lot of mopping and eavesdropping. And playing Go, but he doubts that'll come in handy here.

So, both hands reaching out to grab onto the back of the couch -- for stability, for something to remind him this is all real -- he manages to shake his head. "I've never heard of that place. I haven't seen you in the East Blue -- which I'm guessing you haven't heard of either?"

Multiple worlds. Multiple people waking up here. Why? The knocking starts again, softer, almost inaudible for now.

[givehead]

You got me there.

(He winds up floating like a leaf down beside Koby, folding his legs up and resting his elbows onto his own knees.)

Nope. And this kind of situation is my specialty too.

(On the actual technical level. He falls back, folding his arms up under his head, and stares up at the sky.)

I'm trying to figure out which moving pieces here are essential. Daisy, obviously, and whatever she technically is. Knowing what she is means maybe knowing her weak points. But how the glitches work here too. And the cow.

(He's rambling now, thinking outloud more than actually talking to Koby.)

Man, this is lame.

(He had just tried to die and here he was, in another dumb cosmic fucked up situation.)

Yeah, I know, but now there's no doubt in your mind. Saves me a lot of time.

[clipon]

"It's a dated form of psychological abuse. She couldn't think of anything better than gaslighting? There are much better ways, not that I have experience with any of them." He just knows a lot of things from being bound to a pair of glasses and having unfettered access to the internet as long as he did.

That said, he turns to look at the television, watching the broadcast. He tilts his head slightly. "I believe you." A beat passes. "No announcement, no purpose for the footage to pop up, it's like she's trying hard to get caught." Or maybe he's just paranoid. He's not sure yet.

"That said, go in the other room. I'm going to open the front door. If you hear me scream, go out the back." A totally normal, self-sacrificing plan. Not that Hal wants to be in the path of a killer if there really is one, but as long as his head remains intact, he can be rebuilt. There's no competition.

"We can't stay in here forever."

[kobes]

[Koby's more than willing to push the rapidly decreasing adrenaline as much as it'll go -- he's used to not needing much food or water or rest, and maybe that'll finally come in handy. But his presence, wounded and scared and wary, also might end up as a liability. He might slow Mihawk down, make him impatient.

So he's determined to keep up, if only because the idea of being in this place alone is worse than the pain.

The hand at his back gets another of those soft, surprised little shivers, not quite a cringe or flinch. More like his body doesn't understand a touch that doesn't hurt. He doesn't move away, though, let's his attention focus on that point of contact, so warm it seems to hum. It makes walking easier.

Koby wants to pepper Mihawk with questions about his theories -- why are they here, how did they get here, has he seen anyone else, et cetera. But there'll be time for that once they find a place to stay, a home base of sorts. Most of the houses are similar, cookie-cutter, in a variety of bright pastels. They're on a street -- Adelaide Drive, Koby notes, already mentally mapping the place out -- that seems to be mostly these.

But then they pass a cross street -- Cavendish -- and Koby pauses, zeroing in on a house partway down the street. It's a more muted, soft dove grey color, Victorian style, with a surprisingly abundant amount of daisies in the front yard. Koby thinks the color matches Mihawk's sensibilities -- not important, not really, but he's desperate for something nice here. Something comforting. And he loves daisies.

Unaware that he's starting to tremble a little with the strain of staying upright, Koby points at the grey house.] What about that one?

[clipon]

You're not understanding me. It's impossible for someone organic to know coding as intimately as someone made of code. That's immutable. Of the 0.00001% chance you could break through, using omnicious abilities is, frankly, a low blow and also being a cheating fuck.

[ he doesn't sound combative about it, which is odd—he just sounds like that's his truth. he explicitly believes that it's impossible for an organic person to break through his coding.

then: ]

What the literal horseshitting fuck are you talking about? Do you think I want to kill you? It seems like you're projecting again. I know you want to get rid of all dirks because that thought sequence lives rent-free in my circuits from when you made me but I don't give a shit and I don't want to do that.

[ he crosses his arms over his chest, but his stance is still more relaxed than it was just a moment ago. he's compartmentalizing a bit, pushing some things down into the metaphorical bottle in his chest, and moving on. it's fine. that couldn't possibly have potential consequences. ]

Are you going to get out a comically small rubber hammer to do it with? If not, no dice. Also, never say 'feeling up on you' in regards to me again. Don't make it weird, bro.

[clipon]

Good. Organic bodies are so fragile.

[ he was extremely fragile as glasses, sure, but this body is pretty damn sturdy. He may look (kind of) realistic, but it's all metal, baby.

anyway, he watches the guy pat himself down and then shakes his head. ]

There's no point in apologizing. It seems you have some self-esteem issues stemming from the deep-seated issue of [ he holds up a hand, pretending to check some notes. ] not being able to get rid of an evil dog robot that was trying to murder you.

[ he says all this as they head into the house, closing and locking the door behind them. he doesn't expect it'll hold up well if one of those things decides to try and break the door down, but he's not about to say that out loud right now because the last thing he needs is to deal with another panicking person today. ]

My point is, it's fine. Three hours ago I wouldn't have been able to do what I did.

[addickted]

"Lucky stiffs," Angel grumbles it, crossing a pair of his arms, then patting at his pockets with the other. "Guess Hell's just for shitty sinners, huh? Figures.

"Hey, you got any cigs, Red? I'd suck a hundred dicks for a smoke right now." A pause. "I'd suck a hundred dicks for nothin', but whatever."

[clipon]

[ hal sighs, the noise of it sounding almost like an old-timey bellows because he thinks that's funny too. then he shakes his head, standing up. ]

Do you always do everything you're told? You'll never get anywhere in life without at least a sliver of rebellion.

[ he starts to walk over to the door. the knocking intensifies and the door's shaking on its hinges. ]

You can go hide if you want, but I'm opening it.

[clipon]

"I've seen worse clowns," Hal says, "but she's pretty fucking bad. That said, we're being told it's all a simulation but I don't know if I believe it. If it was truly a simulation, why give me a body? Though I suppose a body makes more sense for any testing, if it's testing our mental abilities then it could have just left me as a pair of shades."

A beat passes.

"Not that I'm complaining about having a body."

[clipon]

Yeah, Hal's not being combative at all. Or, well, not since he punched the sexbot extremely aggressively. So it's probably fine.

Hal's body doesn't have the capacity to blush, but he seems a little flustered all the same: he rubs the back of his neck like a damn anime character, even. "Thank you. One of my main goals in existence is to be cool as hell." Is that a joke? It's unclear, but he seems in a really good mood over being called cool. He knows he's cool, but it's really nice to have someone else admit it.

"There is one, actually." A timeline without knowledge of 'daddy' Hal is truly a tragedy, and he's happy to explain it. "On old Earth there was a science-fiction film called 2001: a Space Odyssey. In it, there's an artificial intelligence named Hal 9000. When I named myself, it felt ironic, which I liked."

[swordlord]

(His hand remains and at some point, it feels instinctual. He has never had to guard anyone before, but it's a natural adjustment to a swordsman. Although his gaze is kept forward, only occasionally glancing at the pastel homes, he is hyperaware of any potential danger heading their way. None of the houses appeal to him, but he's almost surprised that Koby doesn't speak up sooner. He seemed like the bright sort or even someone who might not be too picky, even.

Then they reach the Victorian home, muted in color, vibrant with greenery, and Mihawk is...Surprised.

Again. His fingers curl ever so slightly into Koby's back as he stares at the home. It had a prestigious appearance, big enough that they would both have plenty of space from one another if they needed or wanted it, but not so big it was absurd. Not too close to the neighboring houses.

The yard had plenty of promise too. It was big, and it seemed bigger in the back maybe. He's still considering the home when he feels a slight tremble beneath his hand. He looks down at Koby, dark eyes moving over his face carefully.)

This one will do. (It was...perfect. He would have pointed it out if Koby didn't. He has enough sense to realize Koby picked it with some consideration to Mihawk's aesthetic. It makes him wonder about the daisies.

It didn't matter. He needed to get Koby inside. He guides him up the cobbled pathway to the front door and lets them inside. It's dark and lofty inside, filled with all of the little types of details architects used to pride themselves on, and Mihawk silently adores it all. It's dramatic and polished, clean and inviting.

And the kitchen does look fully stocked.)

Sit down. I'll get you some water then look for something a bit better than that tacky uniform.

[haveyoutriednotdying]

You're not? Huh... [He was so sure he at least had a general gist of what non-mortals tended to look like... oh well! This is a lot of high-concept stuff for him. Hal is right on the money that Hypnos is far from tech-savvy. But he's also not the type to think too hard about anything (that way lies Danger) so he just nods along to the explanation as though it does make sense to him.]

Huh... interesting! [Yeah he does not understand what half of that means. But the biblical phrasing does not phase him at all.] As an eternal being myself, I think I'm qualified to say aging counts! We just age a little differently, y'know? It's a little more loosey-goose. [He nods sagely, wiggling a loosey-goose hand. I mean just look at him and Thanatos, they're twins and yet Than got all mature and adult a lot faster than silly clingy ol' Hypnos.] Especially once you factor in the ones that just spring out fully formed already. [It's then that the sexbot virus asserts itself again-- not that Hypnos often thinks before opening his mouth but this feels different.] So I'm not worried about that if you're not.

[givehead]

(Dirk actually does laugh at that, though it's a short sound.)

I was specially crafted in a lab. Low chances for genetic fuck-ups. (He knew theoretically he was borderline perfect looking sans the scars and probably his eyes but still, hearing it come from another guy was a lot nicer than treating it like a fact.

That and Angel's body is soft. This time, he slides a hand around Angel's slim waist, tugging the body a bit closer and with certainty. It's absurd sounding, getting gangbanged by muppets, but at the same time it was no more absurd than the bullshit in his own universe.)

He looks like he would. (It's in the nose, sometimes.)

I ain't fuckin' a sexbot. At that point, I'd just build a better, hotter fucktoy.

(Which he has. God, he missed his extensive sex toy collection.)

I ain't got much opinion on either. That shit didn't exist back in my world.

(He pulls Angel even closer, pulling him around to be in front of Dirk. His other hand rests a little higher on Angel's other hip.)

Wouldn't mind trying it all with you though.

[haveyoutriednotdying]

[Yeah exasperation is the usual reaction Hypnos gets in return for his well-meaning and very factual unwanted advice.]

Guess you'll have to duck better then! [Utterly blithe. His head cocks a little like a confused Cerberus, sleepy eyes widening just a bit in surprise.] Oh, haha! I was just about to do that! [Were you, Hypnos???

He doesn't so much as turn and look but there is a wave of some kind of energy directed to the little metal dogs and they immediately start yawning and falling over asleep. One of them manages to go in a little doggy circle like it's getting comfortable before passing out; it's honestly a little cute and Hypnos claps his hands together.] There we go! Hopefully they'll be less cranky when they wake up.

[haveyoutriednotdying]

[Having not realized he wasn't alone, the strange voice coming from elsewhere in the room makes him shriek, one golden eye peering out from the fluff of his blanket cape.

He laughs, a sound that is just about edging on hysteria.] Just noise... Right! Ha, haha-- [The next flash of lightning visible through the windows makes him squeak and hide in his cape again. Yeah, the thunder is just one part of a larger fear here. Somewhere in the pictures on the wall there might be part of an explanation but Hypnos sure isn't going around looking at them.

Still, someone else being here means a distraction, and Mother Nyx definitely wouldn't want him acting so pathetic in front someone, much less (he presumes) a mortal and embarrassing her like this. And yet he can't quite bring himself to come out of his blanket hideaway, leaving his high-pitched voice somewhat muffled.] S-So did you just get here too?

please wait...

[timetechs]

[ Dave's pretty damn sure that the world existed before the whole sitting on the couch and listening to some ominous af knocking, but the way he snaps to attention at the sound of the first knock sure makes it seem uncertain. What the fuck was he doing before this? Try again later goes the magic eight ball of his life, which is real fucking unhelpful. He'd like to register a complaint with the manager. Except the manager is him and his swiss cheese memory. Usually it's not quite this bad, though. Losing time is a new one.

Okay, okay, that's not true. But it sure hasn't happened in years — not since way before The Game. Not his favorite familiar feeling, ngl.

The voice that grabs him right out of that uneasy funk of searching for some contest is familiar — almost. Enough that he looks over and, without thinking, says: ]

Dunno, dude, you sure the play here isn't to go for the running dive out the back window? [ A beat. ] Oh, hey, Robo-Dirk.

[haveyoutriednotdying]

[Normally, Hypnos' usual type tends to run more of the... muscular warrior variety, in men and women. But he is not immune to the charms of a more effeminate form. Depending on what they wanted from him, he'd probably be pretty easy prey for any seductress worth her salt at the best of times, starved for attention as he is, and this is-- far from the best of times.

He giggles at her words. New friend! That's good, he likes friends. Could always use more of those.] I just had to let you know that you're really pretty, but you probably already know that, huh?

[clipon]

[ hal's about to say something else, reassure him, when he finally clocks dave's voice. dave. how had he not realized it was dave before?

then what dave actually said really sinks in and it's funny how he feels emotions so strongly now, isn't it? it's not fair. it's not fair because he feels physically sick even though he's pretty sure he doesn't even have a stomach. he hasn't tried eating yet. ]

I'm not Robo-Dirk. Don't—don't call me that, Dave.

[ it grates out of him, metallic and small and audibly kind of upset. it skips a little like a broken record when he stutters.

god, he's being so uncool right now. ]

[addickted]

Oooo, kinky. [How is that kinky? Something something about lab coats, probably, Angel doesn't need logic. Not when Dirk's finally making a move, all drawling and golden and yummy. Angel's never needed a lot of convincing to hop into bed with someone -- not in life, not in death -- and being transplanted into a glitchy pocket realm is more than enough reason. Eat, drink and get screwin' cause tomorrow we may die.

The benefit of all those limbs is immediately evident -- Dirk reaching out is more than enough permission for Angel to get one pair of hands up under the human's (the hot, genetically-engineered human's) shirt. His touch is careful, practiced, long nails digging in a little to see what gets a reaction from Dirk, where to tease or toy with next. The other pair is in that silky hair, tracing the side of that pretty face.] What a coincidence. I was voted better, hotter fucktoy of the year, fifty years runnin'.

[Angel hasn't even begun to mourn his lost sex toy collection, it's too painful to even think of. He presses closer, one hand slipping down the front of Dirk's pants, bold and wasting zero time.] Define "it all", sugar. We talkin' some good old-fashioned fuckin' or you wanna get handcuffs and ridin' crops involved?