thetube | Test Drive Meme: December 2016/January 2017

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MERRY CHRISTMAS AND HAPPY NEW YEAR!

Welcome to the Underground test drive meme! This is where you can try out the AU version of your character, start some potential CR and get a feel for the world of the game. Choose your character's species, read up on the available factions and you're ready to go. Put your character's name in your subject line when you post, tag out, and have fun!

Note to current players: Activity in this meme counts as game canon! So you can use it for activity check. If you end up playing anything that you can't or don't want to use as game canon, it's fine to ignore it. (In that case you shouldn't submit it for activity check.)

Here are some prompts to inspire you:

1) STAY ANOTHER DAY. Maybe it's just for the holidays, but if you've come to London to reconnect with friends and family, now is the time to make the most of it. And it turns out, someone is pretty keen for you to stick around. Your loved ones? Or perhaps you've been noticed by one of London's supernatural factions. Don't go just yet, friend. The city may need you.

2) CHRISTMAS DAY / BOXING DAY. (25th-26th December) Whatever you think of Christmas, it's everywhere in London. Christmas songs on the radio, Christmas lights in the streets, carol singers, and presents under the tree. Of course, in the supernatural world, the presents may just have a magical twist. What's that strange little gift from an unknown sender...?

3) NEW YEAR'S EVE FIREWORKS. (31st December) The New Year's Eve fireworks display is always spectacular. Count down to midnight with Big Ben, then watch the spectacle along with the crowds. Or you could stay at home and watch it on TV.

4) STRANDED. Your flight got cancelled. A storm delayed your train home. The hotel made a mistake with your booking and now you have nowhere to stay. Whatever the reason, you're stuck in London with nowhere to go and it is cold. Depending on where you've ended up, it might be dangerous as well. Are your kind welcome here?

5) DRINK YOUR SORROWS AWAY. Look, it's winter, it's dark, not everyone is having a good time. Might as well buy a drink... and another... and another...

6) NEW YEAR'S RESOLUTION. Goodbye 2016, hello 2017. New year, new you. You've decided to make a change, maybe for yourself, maybe for the entire supernatural community. How are you getting on?

7) CALL A TRUCE. The holidays are a time of peace. Maybe just this once you can have a drink with an enemy and put aside any bad blood.

8) CHOOSE YOUR OWN ADVENTURE. Anything goes.

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Boxing Day (sort of. mostly retail hell)
This was a new thing for Anya. Okay, most things were. But this whole boxing day thing? It had nothing to do with sweaty men punching each other. Or boxes, except for the boxes of returns that were piling up at The Magic Box where she worked.

Amidst the returns, she's trying to get customers to put down expensive things or to buy the expensive things, and not return anything ever because she doesn't want to give them the money back. That's her money, now. Hers. she doesn't want to let go of it.

"You can't return that," she says, looking at the person that approaches her cash wrap. "I'm not doing any more returns. You cannot have your money back. Now go."

Stranded
"No- that's not possible. I said a two-day stay. Two days! Can't you fit me in? I paid a deposit. I put money down!" A small blonde woman was yelling at a poor desk clerk. "Check again. Anya Jenkins. American. Two day stay." She's already irritated, and the clerk seems eager to get rid of her.

"I'm sorry miss, we're out of rooms-" the clerk begins, but Anya continues on.

"This must be how that poor pregnant woman felt. When they put her in the stable." Which gives her an idea. "I wish to speak with your manager." That was the way things got done.

Choose Your Own

Faolan wouldn't really be out and about on such a day as this. But Lancelot had forgotten to pick something up that was required for the dessert he had planned for that evening, and he figured it was the least that he could do to offer to go out and pick it up for him. Since Lancelot was letting him stay at his place, cooking for him, and generally playing the perfect host, after all.

It's when he's passing by the store that the name gives him pause. 'The Magic Box', it's called, and so despite the errand he is on he finds himself stepping in the door. He's just browsing the random wares when he hears the commotion, stepping forward to get a better idea of the exchange as he does.

MOVE IT OR LOSE IT
No one likes to travel. An almost eleven hour flight is, basically, the bossfight of travel.

Ghoul decided he was finished with the trip somewhere around the four-hour mark, but he couldn't very well hop out of the plane and swim his way to London, so he'd stuck it out. And simmered the whole way.

He was nearly crawling out of his own skin by the time he touched solid ground again, and even now, with an hour and a good number of miles between himself and the airport, he's not feeling much better. He's got a white-knuckled grip on the strap of the bag slung across his body as he moodily stomps his way along the sidewalk. Most people have the good sense to move aside or twist away at the last second, but his luck runs out at some point, and a shoulder catches him completely off guard.

It's enough to bring Ghoul to a stumbling stop. He stands there with a dumb, confused look on his face for a few seconds before his eyes narrow and he plows forward a step. "Try holding your fuckin' eyes open while you walk, chief."

BLESS YOU (for vampires or vampire allies!)
Ghoul's got a train to catch. He gets lost a time or two, swept away by the sea of rush-hour bodies, but he gets himself back on track. He supposes.

At the last moment, he darts his way on to what is probably the right train car, just before the doors slide shut. He manages a quick sigh of relief before his nose is filled with an acrid smell. The reaction is almost instant- unavoidable and reflexive, like getting an unexpected whiff of black pepper. Ghoul barely has time to even think the word vampire before he's sneezing, loud and wet, all over the poor thing's back.

Or their front, if they're extremely unlucky.

NO COMMITMENT TO SPARKLE MOTION
Having been in the area for only a few days, there's still a lot he doesn't know. What he does know is that he's accidentally stumbled across a cozy little shop that makes damn good pastries. The drinks aren't half bad either. It's Ghoul's second day in a row at the establishment, and he's keeping it simple today with an order of hot chocolate. The place isn't all that crowded, either, allowing him to happily slip in to place behind a tiny corner table.

He's all set to chill out and people-watch for a while when he figures out he's forgotten napkins.

Ghoul's gone for only a matter of seconds, but when he returns, he finds a small box resting innocently next to his mug. With a tilt of his head, he moves closer, eyeballing it warily. It's kind of cute. Designed like a gift box with the words 'nO pEeKiNg' printed cartoonishly on the lid. Ghoul looks around for any indication of who might have placed it there as he re-takes his seat, and after a moment of consideration, he reaches out to pick it up.

It's warning him not to peek, sure, but what else is he supposed to do with it?

He should've left well enough alone, apparently. As soon as he flips the lid off the box, there's a pop and then a merciless assault of glitter and confetti. And it's everywhere. Absolutely fucking everywhere. All over his jacket, in his hair, on his face. There's probably even some in his drink, but he can't bring himself to look.

Everything is officially awful.

Party's got a shopping bag full of colorful spray paint cans for his latest project and he's almost lost in thoughts of bats bleeding rainbows when he gets shoulder checked by what he'd expected to be some asshole tourist.

As he turns around, he's growling before his brain can even catch up to his nose. This guy is a werewolf and he isn't one Party's met before, which means he isn't Pack and he could easily be trouble, especially the way things have been going lately.

"Try walkin' like a fuckin' big person, kid." He bares his teeth and the cans jostle loudly in his bag.

"No, you listen- I'm in charge at this store here. And today, we are not taking returns. Come back tomorrow," Anya was trying to explain as patiently (read: forcefully) as she could.

"In fact- it's a new rule," she goes on to say. "No returns after- after whatever time it is. Right now." This is how retail works, she's pretty sure of it. "But you are still free to purchase goods. In fact, please do." She smiles broadly at everyone.

Nancy is not a vampire. But she wakes up every day in a vampire's bed, works with vampires, is fed on by vampires, and generally smells like a vampire. So Ghoul's reaction could very easily be forgiven.

If he hadn't sneezed all over her.

Nancy makes a face, wincing. "Bloody 'ell," she mutters, her Cockney accent getting the best of her. "Cover your nose next time, will you? Learn some manners, yeah?"

Stranded

One of the perks of being royal - even as a member of a royal family from a tiny, obscure nation - is the private jet. Unfortunately, even those with private jets can't control the weather. Her Serene Highness Princess Leia of Alderaan is stuck in Heathrow like the rest of the world, waiting for the fog to lift so that she can go home for the traditional New Year's Eve celebrations. She's incognito today, or as incognito as it is possible to be when you have a personal bodyguard constantly at your elbow, sitting in a Starbucks with her hood up and earbuds in, when she hears a familiar shout through her music.

"Your Highness! Your Highness, look this way! Where are you going, Your Highness? C'mon Leia, give us a smile, eh?"

Apparently the paparazzi are stuck in Heathrow too.

Choose your own adventure - Gloomy Sunday

Leia is convinced that whoever said that April is the cruelest month has never been to London in mid-January. She's only twenty minutes into her daily run through Hyde Park, but she's already soaked through by rain and chilled to the bone. Why does London always feel so much colder than Aldera? It doesn't make sense. Alpine blizzards are far more pleasant than the constant damp. She rakes the wet hair out of her eyes and turns towards Kensington Gardens and the Alderaanian Embassy, her home away from home.

And then her day gets even worse.

A sudden downpour catches her off guard and semi-blinded. Leia stumbles in what she thinks is the right direction, hoping for a friendly tree where she can wait out the worst of it, when she collides with another person.

"Watch it!" she snaps in a very unprincesslike way.

Edited 2016-12-27 02:11 (UTC)

Faolan raises his eyebrows at this woman's customer service skills. They leave something to be desired, of course. He moves to take a step forward, then thinks better of it. He doesn't know that this is really a conversation that he should be inserting himself in. Not when it might come to blows between these two women.

He lingers closer to the exchange, wondering if he should intervene before it comes to that. Not that it's any of his business, he supposes, but he is a Guardian. It makes him feel more responsible for the affairs of others than he might otherwise do.

Ghoul doesn't even bother resisting the urge to roll his eyes. This child-faced motherfucker has the audacity to throw the kid card down? That's cute. He considers arguing or even insisting he's probably older than this guy- another wolf!!, some secondary part of his mind supplies helpfully. But that part can sit down and shut the fuck up because Ghoul is grouchy, tired, and in critical need of a shower to blast the recycled-air stink off himself.

Instead of correcting Party, he decides to roll with it this time. The stormy look on his face evens out in to something milder and he arches a brow. It's not a drastic shift in expression, but somehow, he manages to make it look unbearably patronizing. "Yeah? I'll give it a shot. 'Parently all I gotta do is clomp around with my head up my ass. Thanks, Red."

He raises a hand, shooting Party a two-fingered mock salute.

Aww, shit.

The distasteful look on the woman's face is almost perfectly mirrored by his own. Or, well, it would be if it weren't for his hands covering the lower half of it. See, he did cover up! Just... a little too late, that's all. His eyes crinkle up briefly from a cringe, his voice muffled as he offers a surprisingly sincere, "M'sorry." After a quick sniffle, he slowly lowers his hands again. Now that he's expecting the smell, he can handle it a little better. Still kind of tickles his sinuses, but he's prepared this time. Another sneeze won't sneak up on him.

Maybe.

"Ugh- sorry," he repeats with a frown. Now he feels all awkward and like he has to explain shit like no, he's not some creepy American who makes a hobby out of sneezing all over strangers. "Sometimes people like you kinda reek, I wasn't ready."

Oh, that clears things right up.

Anya hardly notices anyone else, but the woman in front of the counter has clearly had enough. She turns to the public and starts lambasting the customer service.

"Listen, lady," she says, every bit the rude American everyone thinks of, "you don't like the rules? You can get out. Please leave." She makes a shooing gesture. "Now."

People like her?

His words do little to calm her, as Nancy fixes him with a look that her brothers would probably call her 'mum look'. Basically, she wasn't happy.

"And what exactly do you mean by that?" She rounds on him, glad the train is empty save the two of them. But that doesn't stop the pages of an abandoned paper from rustling down at the end of the carriage.

Party's hackles are easily raised and that's not something that just comes from being a werewolf, either. His shoulders are tense as he steps closer, hands on his hips.

"You're the one walkin' around like you're better than everyone else. Not my fuckin' fault I didn't see you down there."

He slings his bag a little higher on his shoulder, cans clinking. "What're you doin' around here, anyway?"

Faolan sees the situation progressing even further if someone doesn't stop the pair of them from conversing with each other, and so it is that he makes his way over to the counter where the two are bickering, gently guiding himself towards the counter and in between them, ostensibly because he needs staff help and she seems to be the only one around.

"Excuse me," he butts in gently. "I had a question, if you have a moment?" Intending to guide her away from the counter herself, before the confrontation starts to come to blows.

Leia isn't the only one who enjoys long runs, but Evie doesn't quite mind the weather. With her hood up, she's been enjoying her own run, music playing through her ear buds. The rain is natural to her, having been born so near London, having spent so much time in it. So she doesn't mind the damp, or anything.

But that wasn't what brought her to the tree. What brought her to the tree was the flash of something caught up in the branches, even through the rain. Without a second thought, she'd started to climb the tree, hands gripping tight to the bark and branches. It doesn't take long to scale the tree, only to find out that the something or other was actually just a wet newspaper.

Hiding her disappointment, she puts the paper in her pocket, and prepares to execute a perfect jump from said tree down to the gardens below. And said jump is perfect. Except the wet ground has even Evie slipping slightly, sending her into another woman as she tries to recover from the jump.

She hears the woman speak, even above the rain, above the music, and she rips her earbuds out of her ears regardless.

"I beg your pardon," she apologizes immediately. "I didn't see you." Her hood is still up, before she seeks shelter under the very branches she'd just come from.

Party's bargain shopping, which has mostly equaled window shopping on the kind of budget he's living on right now, but this store had looked interesting enough to stop into. He's looking at some sort of fancy rock when he hears Anya yelling about returns and waits until she's finished to walk up to her.

"Are you the owner or something?"

Oh look, a distraction! Anya merrily welcomes it, turning towards the person that is probably looking to give her money rather than take it. A potential customer.

"Yes, I do." She gives a pointed look at her customer and steps out from around the counter before putting on her best Retail Smile. "Hello and welcome to the Magic Box, how may I help you spend your money?"

Was she the- Anya almost wants to laugh. "No, but he has bills to pay and would agree with my new policy." Goodness, she hopes so. Or, would, if forethought was something she gave much... well, thought to.

"May I help you?"

This girl's tiny and not even a wolf. She has no authority over him at all, but even so, Ghoul finds himself shrinking back. He's not looking for a fight, this time. Figures he'd find one when it's the last thing on his mind. "What?" A quick look around the car provides him no sanctuary or advice. He's not so sure he's comfortable with there being no witnesses around when she decides to go berserker on him.

On the plus side, though, it seems like they'll be able to carry on their awkward conversation in peace. "I don't really mean it in a bad way, it's just. You know," he begins, waving a hand about vaguely after he turns to face her again. Doing so stirs up the air between them in just the right way, and he pauses.

Suddenly, he's looking very puzzled. She's not a vampire. She only smells like one. More than one, actually, now that he's paying attention.

Ghoul's mouth opens and closes a time or two uselessly, like a fish out of water, as he considers how to proceed. Does she even know that her social circle is saturated with vampires? "Uh... Nevermind, maybe you don't know?"

Nancy's never one to back down from a fight. Even when she's outnumbered, or clearly going to lose. She's always been a fighter, despite her tiny stature.

"No, I don't know," she challenges, assuming of course he's referring to the fact that she was a prostitute. The goal was to get him to say it, so she could properly curse his ass into next year.

But he pauses, and she has to, too, and the way he's looking at her... For the first time, she really pays attention to him. He's a wolf. Of course.

"I know," she says, but her proverbial haunches are still up. If he's going to lambast her for being with a vampire, he's got another thing coming.

Again? He blows out an annoyed breath, stubbornly standing his ground even as Party comes way too close to invading his personal space. "Fuck off, you're not even that much bigger than me." Seriously...

Ghoul's so wound up that he doesn't even want to answer the question. He's quiet for a long moment, dragging his palms over his face in exasperation and exhaustion. By the time he's reeled his temper in a bit, his hands have dropped back down to his sides and his mouth has started moving without his permission. "I guess I'm going home or some shit."

It feels weird to call it home when it's so new and unfamiliar, but that's what it technically is. At least until he finds what he came here for.

Not that it's any of this guy's business. Ghoul scowls at the nosy stranger and his noisy bag. "The fuck are you doing? Recycling?"

Ghoul squints at her, evidently still feeling a little skeptical as to whether or not they're both on the same page. Only one way to find out. "So, you know about your friends and their, uh... habits?" Yes. Their habits. Of the biting variety. Great way to put it.

He's only just now realizing how difficult it is to keep this sort of shit vague enough to be safe, just in case it turns out that she doesn't know what she thinks she knows.

He really can't imagine being so invested as an employee, but then he's chosen busking over getting a real job for just that reason. Caring about some hourly job just isn't in him.

"Yeah. What is this?" He holds up the thing that he's still pretty sure is just a rock.

New Year's Fireworks

Charlotte Greene, better known as @charlieg on Instagram, has a lot to celebrate this year. Having appeared suddenly in 2015 as a YouTube makeup maven, her Instagram account now rivals the Kardashians for likes and her new eyeshadow palette sold out within twelve minutes of release. It's now going for upwards of £120 on eBay and was one of the top Christmas presents for 2016, according to Vogue UK.

Suck on that Kylie.

She stretches out in her expensively-furnished and impeccably decorated flat, having just finished a holiday Facebook Live video starring her French bulldog, Louise (whose own Instagram account has over three million followers), and decides to hit the town, selfie stick and all.

After all, feeding off the love and adulation of humans is kind of her thing.

Charlie's been playing the goddess game for a few centuries now. She picked it up from a family friend who'd taken on the role of various goddesses of beauty, love, and fertility over the last ten thousand years or so. Charlie's fairly young--only a couple of millennia old--but she'd grown up hearing those stories. And she'd loved them.

It had been a good couple of centuries, but then monotheism came to Northern Europe with a vengeance and she'd had to rethink her strategy a bit, constantly reinventing herself. Her newest incarnation has her feeling just fine. Thousands of likes, millions of followers--it's almost like the old days again. All she'd needed to do was buy an iPhone and learn how to contour.

She's waiting in the cold with all the rest (though perhaps a little more stylishly dressed) for the clock to strike midnight and the fireworks to start. What an amazing selfie that's going to be.

Edited 2016-12-27 06:19 (UTC)

"You got me. I'm recycling." He's almost sort-of up-cycling, so it's not far off. It's just that he mostly up-cycles the sides of buildings that aren't strictly his to up-cycle.

His nostrils flare. Who does this guy think he is, anyway? Not long ago, werewolves were getting strung up for sport around here. He can't just go wandering around like he belongs. Granted that's exactly what Party had done and right into Islington's territory, too, but he'd known what he'd been doing at least. He's also been kind of fucked up at the time, too, but that's neither here nor there.

"Might wanna pay better attention. You gotta watch where you go in this city if you don't wanna get fucked up."

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Test Drive Meme: December 2016/January 2017

Anya Jenkins | Buffy | Human

Boxing Day!

fun ghoul / danger days: blah blah killjoys / werewoof

YOU MOVE IT OR LOSE IT

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Leia Organa | Star Wars | Metahuman(ish)

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Boxing Day

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Charlie Greene | OC | Seelie Fae

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