TEST DRIVE MEME: TWO

[loveskulls]

SCENARIO ONE:
There are many reasons you could find yourself in the depths of the forest. Foraging, hunting, a task set by the mistress or rumors of a plant that grants unfathomable powers once consumed. Whatever the reason may be, you’re in the depths of it now. The flora and fauna seems quite similar to a normal, earth forest. Only it’s rich, green, filled with pastel flowers and leaves and barely touched by humanity. The forest giveth and taketh and the villagers know better than to take advantage of it, particularly when more sinister beings lie in the darker depths of it.

Like, y’know. Bears and shit.

The animals of the forest enjoy playing games with humans. They’ve figured out that the new batches of people don’t seem to realise they can talk, and they revel in starting conversations and stopping them as soon as they realise another human is approaching. They do this so you look mad, of course. They will lie, telling you that eating or drinking certain things within the forest can grant you awesome powers. More often than not, they’re doing it to watch you eat aphrodisiac flowers or drink normal water and act high and mighty.

Plants are also tricky. The mushrooms in the forest are said to taste delicious, like beef and chicken (and they go great in pasta). This information comes from villagers, but they tell you to pick fast and not to linger, because the mushrooms are sly.

What they don’t tell you is that the mushrooms talk too. Not only will they beg you to spare them, they can sense your deepest insecurities and share them with the world, chiming in unison about your deepest secrets loud enough to let everyone in the area hear.

Flowers can release fumes that addle the mind. You see visions of beautiful people and feel compelled to run into their arms, unaware that you’re making out with a tree or a bear. Others are less insidious, simply releasing pleasant fumes that make you want to spoon in the grass and cuddle for hours in the cold forest.

SCENARIO TWO:
On the outskirts of the kingdom, there are rumors of several magical fountains hidden in mountains or forests. Whether you are sent by The Mistress or tasked to do it by rich diplomats for a hefty sum, you have good reason to find them.


One fountain is incredible to look at. The marble carving is ornate and detailed and took an impressive amount of dedication from the petals of each flower to the spirals that surround them. The water will make you absolutely irresistible to those around you. One sip will drive those around you absolutely mad for you. Whether it be a desperate urge to fuck or a desperate urge to sing you sonnets and kiss your feet, they will want you.

One fountain has beautiful, marble figures carved into it. It will change you into the opposite sex, but the finest form of the opposite sex. The height of beauty and body standards, but just enough like yourself that you are almost recognisable.

One fountain is pretty plain. What you see is what you get, but there’s something satisfying about the simplicity. It is, of course, impressively gold plated despite lacking carvings. It grants you not only the desire to fuck, but the power to be the absolute best at it. There is nobody you can’t please, and you can please for hours on end without becoming tired. You are driven to give pleasure to all of those around you, and when allowed, you will absolutely succeed.

The quest to find these fountains is extremely difficult and water is sparse in the areas. It will be almost impossible to resist a small sip, but even the smallest sip can provide nearly an hours worth of effects. There’s plenty of water for you to drink and still fill the vials you’ve been provided, but there’s plenty of reason to be distracted.

SCENARIO THREE:
The Mistress frequently holds a ball, and everyone is always invited. Your outfit is not what you would have picked, really. In fact, you didn’t pick it at all. As soon as you walk through the door, the outfit you choose turns from modest to nearly non-existent. All clothing turns to lingerie or BDSM wear. Sensible pants are leather chaps, dresses are corsets, shoes are heeled and lace is nearly everywhere. The only thing you have to protect your dignity is a lovely, bedazzled mask.

The incense is strong as ever in Mistresses’ Ballroom. It has mild, aphrodisiac effects and seems to calm the nerves. Shot glasses of all colours line the tables, each which a little card in front of them with a vague title.

Red: Passion
(This one is simple, it grants you undeniable passion, lust and desire.)

Orange: Fierce
(Like Red, it offers lust but with a rough edge. It makes you want it, but it makes you want to give it or take it hard.)

Yellow: Sweet
(The kindest cocktail. It offers lust, but sweetly. It makes you want gentle kisses and soft touches.)

Green: Greed
(It sets your sights on more than one partner, possibly at once.)

Blue: Exhibition
(You don’t care where you are, anywhere will suffice. The more people who see, the better.)

Purple: Filthy
(This one encourages dirty talk. All of your words will become suggestive, all of your desires will slip out and some things you thought you’d never say are announced.)

Black: Kinky

(The most potent of all. This shot will cause you to want whips and chains. Dominance. Leather, even. Hope you’ve prepared a safeword.)

The drinks aren’t just on the tables, they’re passed around by scantily dressed waiters and waitresses and offered to you by fellow attendees. The effects are almost immediate, lasting roughly an hour depending on how many you ingest. They can, of course, be combined with other drinks for multiple effects.

The drinks and the drawers aren’t the only aspect of the party. The ballroom is beautiful and fearsome, the walls are decorated tastefully with the skulls of the Mistresses’ enemies. The theme seems to be blood and lust, almost everything is either black or red and the carvings and decorations all resemble skulls and bones. The music is enchanting and inspires rhythm in the worst dancers. This entire night is orchestrated to be an incredible, sexy spectacle for the Mistress and everyone here is merely a humble instrument to her visions.

Comments

Ellis - Left 4 Dead 2 - Open

[shiftingurbulls]

Scenario 1 - Shame don't mean a thing

You know, after going through a week of scavenging for canned goods and hoping one doesn't get botulism, selective hearing can become a thing. Ellis learned that when he found himself not caring that the mushrooms were telling him about how everyone thought he was too immature, that he wouldn't be worth anyone's time, that survival fucked him up. Nope, he's just going to pick a few mushrooms, "Sorry buddy but y'all been the first meal in a fuckin' while that don't have an expiration date."

If one were to find him in another place, it's discovering that animals could talk and he is delighted, "Holy shit on a stick! I must be in fuckin' Disneyland or something!" Feel free to correct him or drag him away from potential danger, he's like a puppy: unaware that some of these animals can eat him twice over.

Scenario 3 - Southern Belle Ball PornHub edition

"A li'll breezy," it's the first thought El has when he realizes just how ventilated leather chaps are, "but worth it if lookin' like the Good, the Bad an' the Fuckable huh?" The mask is a nice touch and he rues the day he left his hat ("That thing survived the Zombie apocalypse, y'all take care of it!") but he's already walking around, farmer's tan and scars in full display for anyone to enjoy.

"Got anythin' with vodka?" he asks and still he keeps an eye out for the infected. He doesn't feel that comfortable with this many people and any one of them being sick. He knows it's safe...and maybe needs someone to assure him. Or someone who will tolerate his rattling off.

[streetsmarts]

Chaps are shameful, but Nick thinks his outfit is worse. For once. His once beautiful suit is now a shirt collar, fastened around his neck, without a shirt under it with a pair of white booty shorts to match. The whole outfit obviously cost a fraction of what his entire suit did, so he'll kick up a fuss if he doesn't get it back.

He won't complain about scantily clad women, free booze and a zombie free party, though. He can almost tolerate being dressed like a goddamn stripper if it means pretty girls wink at him.

He hates to say it, but the place is kind of dull without the ol' survivor gang around. He's casting his eyes around, trying to see if anyone other than him made it here. Doing so prompts him to catch sight of a familiar ass face, and although part of him wants to avoid being loudly called out for his outfit in true Southern Style.

He opts to get it over with, slinking toward Ellis in time to wrinkle his nose and sneer at him. "Vodka? Don't you mean moonshine, hillbilly?"

[shiftingurbulls]

"Well you can't make a Molotov Cocktail with moonshine, it don't feel right," Ellis joked around before he realized who he was talking to. He didn't make it to the jovial puppy "Boy I'm glad you're alive" stage of his greeting when he saw just how varied the triple X wardrobe got. Instead, Nick gets a stifled laugh and a quick elevator stare,

"My my, Nicole, lookin' extra spiffy for the locals?" El did not miss the chance to state the mortifying obvious. "Where's tha' $30 rental suit of yers?"

And now he's just applying a layer of salt to the wound.

[streetsmarts]

"That might be the smartest thing you've ever said." Nick retorts dryly, but there's almost a warmth to his expression and his tone. He's glad to have the kid here, even if he hates his guts. One less person out of that hell hole with Nick is one less guilty feeling he'll have hanging over him.

"I'm glad I'm alive too." Duh. Then his warmth turns quickly to irritation. "Uhuh. Yeah. Look, kid. If I had that suit here, you'd finally see it in action. Wearing it to impress chicks is what it was goddamn tailored to do. I don't need to get naked to impress people."

Adam Parrish | The Raven Cycle | OTA

[unaffluent]

Scenario 1

Adam is instantly rather intrigued with the forest. It's alive to him and well when the animals start talking his immediate reaction is not that he's insane and he's rather apt to ignore them. He's been in a magical forest before even if it was quite different than this one. While he doesn't follow the animals goading at the least or interact with the much he does eye the mushrooms, his stomach grumbling.

But then they start talking about his deepest insecurities: that he's unlovable, unwantable and that he'll never be anyone.

He's quick to abandon the mushrooms as soon as they start with that. That's nothing he wants a part of and he's not quite hungry enough to put talking mushrooms into his mouth or otherwise cook them.

At some point he's drawn in by the flowers and ends up hugging a tree thinking it's a beautiful... well it kept shifting between a man and a woman in his mind like he couldn't make up what he wanted most in the moment, maybe he wanted both but he's not quite wide enough to hug two trees at once.

Wildcard

[ Open to any of the scenarios if the others intrigue more! Feel free to shoot something at me or I can wrestle up a specific starter for you otherwise. ]

[fusshionable]

Porrim, too, is finding the forest to be quite a trip. She is, however, smart enough not to eat anything. Far too risky, and she's rather a fan of not being poisoned, thanks. And when she comes across this young man engaged in an incredibly passionate embrace with a tree, she knows she's made the right choice. She stops just behind him and watches for a few moments with her arms crossed and her eyebrows raised.

"And this is why we don't do drugs, dear."

Eddie Dean | The Dark Tower

[thefuckingbeam]

[Edward Cantor Dean is not a stranger to being sucked into other worlds. Not, perhaps, as accustomed to it as he will be one day, but once you're pulled through one door, the second is a whole lot less of a shock. So finding himself here, away from that godforsaken beach and that godforsaken Gunslinger and that godforsaken psycho-bitch Detta Walker—

Well, it's a blessing, as far as he's concerned. This isn't home, but it isn't there, either. And there are free drinks, and he can probably sniff out some drugs if he tries. Little does he know, tossing back a couple of those shots is drug enough, though maybe not with the high he's been craving. The purple hits first, and he finds his tongue has grown awfully loose and awfully bold in that Brooklyn accent of his.The yellow hits second, and suddenly Eddie wants to get laid in a bed of goddamn daisies, visions of hair-stroking and butterfly kisses dancing through his lust-addled brain.

All he really needs is a willing partner.

[hauntpadour]

[Egon is not entirely sure why he agreed to be here, especially since he got this outfit. Which is... kind of nice. He's got these heeled boots, red chaps, and some pretty fine perfume. He'll just take shots as soon as they're available, hoping to get through this party. It's better than Janine's family, still.]

[Except he got an orange shot and is, well... Looking very frisky. Which doesn't fix with him all that much either. But here he is, right in Eddie's line of sights and maybe looking at him funny.]

[thefuckingbeam]

[Presently, Eddie becomes aware of a man staring at him, just out of the corner of Eddie's eye. A few flicks of his eyes back and forth confirm that, yeah, whoever this weirdo with the pompadour is, he's definitely checking Eddie out. Or least looking at him weird. It makes Eddie feel like a hunk of prime rib, which he's not sure he likes.

He lifts a hand in a half-sure wave.]

Uh—hey?

[hauntpadour]

[It's not quite checking out, but not sizing up or examining either. It's somewhere in between, deciding the exact numbers of his chances at scoring, and that's probably weirder. But he doesn't look too threatening. He's just kind of a big guy with big blue eyes and a blond pomp. Very 80's.]

[There's a moment of hesitation before he does wander over, eyes a little bit more hooded than usual and holding back the urge to start squaring him off already.]

Hello. Strange party, right?

guess who just rolled purple

[ignisvulpes]

[Aaaalright, he knows the wise thing to do now would be sneak out somehow. His clothes would probably change back, right? He doesn't want to play the Mistress's little game. This tiny little mask isn't going to keep anyone from recognising him.

But god damn it all, he's pretty horny now, and he sure as hell can't hold his tongue when he runs into Eddie - well, stumbles, really. Walking in heels is hard.]

Look, I'm gonna be honest with you, buddy. I swallowed something pretty nasty and you should probably get out of my way before either of us gets even more naked.

ohhh my god this is gay

[thefuckingbeam]

[Eddie has very firmly established—or rather, has had it firmly established for him—that he is straight. Any longings, any stray thoughts were put quickly out of his head because, well, he likes girls! He'd know if he were gay, or at least he's pretty sure he'd know. Even with the way he's dressed: in a ridiculous pair of leather hot pants that rest high on his waist, and a leather harness that makes him feel like he should be getting spanked in someone's basement.

But suddenly the next person to cross his field of vision is a guy and Eddie's poor addled brain doesn't even think twice. He reaches out to grab at one of Kaph's hips with a surprisingly gentle touch.]

What if I want to stay right in your way, you little slice? Never saw a guy in heels before but you pull 'em off. Or I could pull 'em off for you.

[ignisvulpes]

Whoa there, little guy! [He manages to slap Eddie's hand away. What that means in the face of the bulge that's growing more prominent in his leather chaps may be unclear.] I mean, can't you think of something better to pull off?

[ALRIGHT HE DEFINITELY DIDN'T MEAN TO SAY THAT.]

[shieldofrohan]

[Éowyn is willing. There's a part of her, the same part that's very strongly opposed to this whole situation, that feels she shouldn't be willing, that it's ignoble and unladylike. But the truth is, it isn't entirely the drinks and incense responsible, either. She's a hot-blooded woman, and she's kept her wants hidden most of her life, but in a room full of beautiful people fucking...]

[The only effect the drinks have, really, is giving her the willingness to act on it. She downed the first two shots to come to hand, orange and red, and now she's well and truly on the prowl.]

[So Eddie's faced now with a leggy, muscular blonde, one hand on her hip as she looks him up and down.]

[And herein lies the problem, because frankly Éowyn has never actually intentionally flirted before and doesn't know how you start. So even if she's trying to keep a confident, imperious kind of look, it's kind of difficult to maintain once she needs to actually say something. Surely normal greeting etiquette doesn't apply when you're clearly looking for sex, and also your breasts are trying to escape your corset.]

...Are we well met?

[SHUT UP IT'S SOMETHING.]

save him

[thefuckingbeam]

[Oh, holy christ, now that is what Eddie calls a woman. He's never been short for a man, but she makes him feel average-sized at best, and he feels his throat go dry at the sight of her, muscles and hair and breasts—]

I, you. Yes.

[Fuck. You're Eddie goddamn Dean, you're supposed to be GOOD at talking. He clears his throat, pulls his gaze sharply up to her face from her tits, and gives her a charming grin.]

Extremely. Pardon me for saying so, but I don't think I've ever seen a woman quite like you.

[shieldofrohan]

[Éowyn smiles, amused. She's blushing a little, his look making her feel even more exposed, but there's something pleasant about that exposed feeling.]

[That, and his smile really is quite charming. The coiled want in the pit of her stomach only grows looking at him. Every instinct is telling her to push him down onto the nearest flat surface and fuck him senseless.]

[She bites her lip hard, a shiver running down her spine, but doesn't give into instinct. For the moment.]

What do you mean by that?

[She doesn't actually know the word "coquettish", and isn't aware she's being it.]

[shieldofrohan]

2
There is a spring in her step that's been sorely absent lately. Even with the strangeness of everything, and her worry over her uncle and her kingdom, there's no denying the heady joy of being outside, with the wind on her face and a job to be done and no walls to hold her. She's thirsty, of course, and the journey has been long and arduous, but it's been a journey, after months as a near-prisoner in her own home.

When the fountains come into sight, they take her breath away. But it's the simplest of them that draws her, and she sits on the gold-plated edge, leaning over to drink and splash her face before going to fill her flasks.

3
Éowyn is many things, but first and foremost among them is proud. She prides herself on her dignity, her honour, her nobility.

It's kind of hard to keep hold of those things when you're dressed in lace and leather, breasts spilling over the top of a corset that's both stricter and more revealing than any stays she'd usually wear, and in high spiked boots you don't know how to walk in. She teeters a little on the stilettos before finding her balance, and, bright red behind her half-mask, tries to find somewhere else to be.

When that fails, she decides a drink may at least do something to steady her nerves, and face this with whatever dignity she can salvage. Too bad she picked up a blue shot. This could end badly.

3

[moonshined]

Remus is still adjusting to all of this, even after a month—still trying to figure out where he fits in among the mess, among all the...rather overt sexuality. Still, he's an eighteen-year-old, and it's not like he's going to barricade himself in his bedroom when there's a slim possibility he might get laid at some point.

Not that he expects that in the least. He's weird and quiet and scarred and far too clever. So he's just going to try and enjoy himself a little, now that he doesn't have to worry about anyone finding out about his dirty little secret. This place does, at least, have that benefit.

He's leaned ever so casually against a chair back when he sees the blonde woman teetering in too-high heels, and his elbow nearly slips before he regains his composure and ushers forward to catch her elbow.

"Those look...a bit difficult to walk in. Let me help you."

[shieldofrohan]

"I need no help," she says, rather acidly, but she doesn't pull her arm away. Honestly, it's instinctive more than anything: offers of help have a tendency to rankle her pride.

She relents almost at once, more embarrassed for the moment by her discourtesy than by... well, everything else. "Forgive me. That was ill-spoken. And thank-you for your concern." Then, with a little grimace, "These boots hardly seem fit for wearing at all, truth be told."

Then again, nothing she's wearing seems fit for much. Lingerie, as a concept, hasn't really reached Middle-Earth, and she's more than a little confused by it. And that is absolutely the only reason her eyes are flicking up and down his body, and lingering a little too long. Absolutely.

2

[claworspear]

"I wouldn't drink any of that, if I were you." A low voice, slightly raspy, came from the man sitting next to one of the other fountains. Nidalee had gotten out to them just ahead of Eowyn, and much like the blonde, had made her way to the nearest fountain. Of course, the fountain had an altogether different effect.

Standing and approaching Eowyn, walking with the awkward gait of somebody that was clearly feeling 'off' in some way, the (apparent) man was wearing very little. Nidalee had been wearing a loincloth and fur-and-leather top. The latter had become torn as a result of the broad, well-muscled chest that Nidalee now had, and the former was now far from modest. "These waters are dangerous." Hopefully, she was not too late to keep Eowyn from making the same mistake she herself had.

[shieldofrohan]

Éowyn's eyes went from the man's face, down his body, and then quickly back up to his face again as her cheeks redden. It isn't that she's never seen a naked man before, but this is much more awkward than nudity, in an odd kind of way - it's that loincloth, the apparently weak attempt to cover up.

"...Dangerous?" She finds her voice, clearing her throat. "Dangerous how? And how do you know?"

Anzu Menelik | OC | OTA

[amourtician]

(OOC: anzu is a trans man. he's on T—let's ignore the question of where he's getting it from for now—but he hasn't had top surgery, so he still binds. I'm A-okay with characters commenting, asking questions, being confused as to his gender, etc.)

Scenario III: Drink Some of This, It'll Put Colour In Your Cheeks

[ Anzu turned up covered from neck to ankle.

That did not last long.

The fact he needs to bind rather limits just how skimpy his costume can be, but really, unless you know what it's for, the binder just looks like an iridescent blue crop-top; it's the exact colour of a peacock's body feathers. The matching lacy knickers ride low on his bony hips—and a peacock's tail is attached to the back, trailing like the train of a dress. Whatever magic changed his outfit let him keep the packer—there is quite an attractive bulge. His legs are clad in sky-blue stockings and his knee-high boots have a three-inch heel. His face is carefully made-up and his dark skin is peppered with an abundant amount of glitter. That's going to get everywhere.

His stance is a little tense; he's not quite his usual flamboyant self. He's not used to showing quite this much skin. For all his posturing and flirting, he's never been one to be proud of his body. He keeps wondering how many people have spotted how wide his hips are, how his torso is basically the shape of a violin. His acid blue eyes betray his nervousness. His hands shake, just a little.

He's holding a shotglass of something orange and staring at it, pouting. Quite suddenly, without warning, he grabs the person nearest him by the arm and pulls them closer. ]

Darling— this thing's obviously drugged, am I right? Do we have, ah, any data on what it does? I'm sure enough people have been making merry that consistent effects can be observed—so, ah. Do enlighten me.

[ He gives a crooked smile. It's not altogether unattractive. ]

[blackdogstar]

[Sirius didn't even bother to dress up that much. He had this place's number right away, and he has embraced it to the extent he's able. There is still a little lingering British sensibility in his soul, but he is denying it passionately.

That said, he wasn't quite so suggestive in his dress as what he ended up in after walking through the door.

Foremost is the elaborate mask, black and glittering black, covering the top half of his face and straightening out into a muzzle over his nose. It's clearly canine, though the species is up for debate, and there are tufts of shining fur in the ears that stick up above his head. Below that, he's wearing a posture collar, laced up tight so that he can't bend his neck at all. A few cross straps of leather have replaced the vest he had intended to wear. The only actual clothing he has left are his pants, dark tight jeans, and the combat boots that lace halfway up his calves.

He can... work with this? He hopes.

He's frowning thoughtfully at a shot glass of black liquid when Anzu grabs him. He blinks, then slowly returns that toothy grin.]

I'd be surprised if anything here wasn't drugged, mate.

[His eyes scan the crowd, looking for others holding something orange...]

Honestly I haven't been paying enough attention myself. You could always just quaff it and find out.

[amourtician]

[ Anzu pauses to slide an appreciative look down Sirius's chest. Then he jerks his head back up and fixes the other with a penetrating, feverish stare. ]

Darling. I'm not, ah. I'm many things, but I'm not stupid.

[ He sniffs at the liquid in the shot glass, then cocks a skeptical eyebrow. ]

Of course—

[ He looks thoughtful, tapping his chin with one long, spidery finger. ]

But, dearest! [ His eyes go theatrically wide and he flutters his eyelashes like a porcelain doll. ] What if it's an aphrodisiac? I shouldn't have any of that without, ah, any ... company lined up.

[ He lowers his eyelashes and looks up at Sirius, smiling slyly. It's not the smoothest come-on but Anzu Menelik has never been too proud to cut to the chase. ]

Nidalee | League of Legends | OTA

[claworspear]

Scenario 1

Nidalee might have lost the ability to take on her cougar form-and she might have been rather sore about it-but that wasn't exactly going to keep her from hunting. It was easy enough to create simple snares and javelins from what could be picked up off the ground in the woods, and her dark skin blended well enough in to the woods, along with the green clothing she'd donned for the same purpose. Being an experienced hunter couldn't have entirely prepared her for the strange things in this particular forest, however.

The animals, for one. She perhaps wasn't quite as shocked as the animals might have expected to see them talking, and they'd so far failed to get the best of her-but unlike most of the humans they likely encountered, Nidalee actually seemed to quite enjoy their company. Large cats would have been better, but if somebody was to stumble on to her, they'd find her deep in conversation with a pair of wolves about what the game animals in the forest preferred to eat, and their typical grazing habits-basically, she was exchanging hunting tips with the wolves.

Scenario 3

While no stranger to revealing clothing, Nidalee did not typically find occasion to wear an outfit that was so designed for titillation and nothing more. While somehow the ballroom had decided to play up her usual motif of being a wild woman, the loincloth she wore now had revealed both of her thighs and barely hid anything else, and her top was practically a thin strip of leather that just covered her nipples, bosom threatening to be loosed with the slightest provocation.

The embarrassment she had at her clothing, especially with so many eyes there to be drawn towards her, inevitably led the woman towards the sides of the ballroom. Towards the tables sporting drinks-and if she was literate, the drinks might have put her off. Instead, she grasped a double shot-orange mixed with blue-and downed it, fully expecting alcohol and the liquid courage she knew it could instill. But she hadn't anticipated the additional effects, and soon found herself pushing towards the crowd in the ballroom, search for somebody to take her as soon as possible. It wouldn't be difficult, with what little she wore.