gammeme | Test Drive Meme #2

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Test Drive Meme #2

You wake up in a closet. It's a nice enough one, clearly owned by someone with a large bedroom and too many clothes. There's a dim light on but no switch to make it brighter. As your eyes adjust and you come to the realization that this is probably not a dream, you notice you aren't alone. Locked in the closet with you is (at least) one other person who seems just as confused and disoriented as yourself.

On the door, you can both see a list with a possibly familiar title and a familiar set of rules; Seven Minutes In Heaven. The door will be locked for a probably very long seven minutes and it will not open no matter how much you try to force it. In the closet air is a hefty dose of aphrodisiacs that might be clouding your normal judgement. The longer you wait, the more you want to give in to the game.

Will they really let you out when the seven minutes are done? Or will the countdown start all over again until you consent? Only waiting will tell.

EDIT: Aphrodisiacs are OPTIONAL, not required. Also feel free to make your own scenarios, themes are merely for those wanting an idea.

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"Some kind of what... lover?" she said, snickering. Part of it was the fact that the aphrodisiacs were still in the air. When the doors hadn't opened and it had proven sealed with ice, they'd resumed the dosage, perhaps even upped it a little bit. At least they hadn't pumped something in through the chips right then. But, another part of it was far more sinister.

Chloe knew about refractory periods, about the fact that the body was tired and the mind vulnerable when it was coming down, especially when they weren't used to it. She was using it and manipulating it, abusing the needy parts of Alkaid's body, fingers turning in and sliding down slowly towards the inside of her thighs, drawing closer to her hips again while she caressed her breast. She leaned up to kiss her again and her teeth tugged at the bottom of Alkaid's lip.

"Maybe we were, a little. What would you have said if I told you I almost bought you a ring?" A flagrant lie, a horrible lie, but the sort of thing someone still struggling for their moorings would be confused by.

Her nose twitched and she couldn't understand why. And a few seconds after that answer, clearly not what she was going for, she couldn't help but feel like wiggling that much more. Between that and how every touch seemed to sink below her skin and into her being, settling in for the long haul and dragging her down deeper and deeper... She moaned into the kiss as she sank against Chloe, body slithering back down to where those lips, that mouth, and those wicked intentions had access to everything.

Then she said something that made her squeak. Shock, fluster, and so many other things. A...a ring!?

"W-what do you...idiot you can't just...you're not just?" She struggled with thoughts and words. But how could she be lying? She knew this much about making her squirm and...and wasn't that something proper lovers had? Proper people madly in love? Oh...oh what was this? What did any of this mean? The simply dizzying nature of it made her squirm, made her whimper. She was inside her head and she couldn't shake her out.

"I've missed you calling me that," she said warmly. "You used to call me so many names." Her lips were running up underneath her chin again, trying to tilt her head back while her fingers reached in and started brushing against her sex again. Her free hand reached over to the hip pouch, pulling something out from inside. One of the toys she'd arrived with, she brought the set of beads into one hand and held them while her fingers started to tease their way at Alkaid's entrance again.

"We were just kids then, when we met. I've grown older now and you're still so young. I know what you really look like, you know. Such pretty brown eyes, short, brown hair. I always liked brown hair." She was trying to make it out like they were closer, like she knew so many things about her that she couldn't possibly have. "What was your favorite subject?"

As she said that, her fingers started to push in, the tone making it sound like it was a rhetorical question, like she already knew, trying to lead it out of her while the beads snuck their way up and she pressed the smallest to her pucker.

She had no words for that, twisting in place as that hand found its way between her legs. To where it wasn't entirely unwelcomed. She bucked against it, breathing out heavily as she wrapped her arms around Chloe and tipped her head towards her. Ear lingering at her lips. Addicted to the poison in her voice. She listened to her describe something impossible, all things considered. Shivering at the implication. She really did know everything about her.

And oh god, the real her fit her type?

She couldn't have seen what Chloe was playing with. Beyond her, that was.

"Subje-AH!" She started, only to rear back a touch as fingers once again invaded her. Before she jumped in spot at the feeling of something else at her ass. Again. "W-what..." She sputtered, eyes wide, looking past her and into the darkness of the cloak cage she was in. How many ways did she have to violate her for the love of all that was holy?

[He has no idea what she ordered, but he knows he's footing the bill for it. Good thing he has his wallet on him. But the offer has him coming over, a dubious expression on his face.]

Define 'trick'? I'm trying to avoid having AIs burst in here.

Nothing like that, hopefully.

[Okay - maybe she'd skip a few thing on her first day. She'd already gotten into enough with the AIs for one day.] I'd rather not have another run in with them if I can avoid it.

[ To most, this would be a prison. An Orson Wells-esque, big brother is watching you sort of deal. The cameras, the security. The fact that the sky is fake.

But Gabe? Gabe's never felt more alive. It's not that he has victims, or prey to fall back on--it's that he doesn't. It's a strange feeling, one that doesn't exactly make him elated. He misses his family and he misses messing with them, sure, but this is more opportunities. He's not grounded, not anymore. He can fly.

Not literally, of course, but Gabe finds himself in a coffee shop. That's what most people his age did, anyway, wasn't it? Since he was 18. Stay in coffee shops. Be pretentious. Pretend they knew everything about old black and white movies and politics. Gabe supposes he could, too.

He spots the redhead--pretty, but meaning business--ducking in and then out, but doesn't think much about it. It's just yet another person in a busy, busy world. Let her go about and do whatever it is people did. It's when she comes in the second time that Gabe perks up, a cup of coffee long gone cold in his hands. No cream or sugar, not a single sip taken from it. ]

Stood up?

[ He's guessing she's the type to stand up her dates, though. ]

[OOC: Brief rundown of her background and personality here. I don't mind if you want to use prose or brackets to respond.]

What was making that relentless banging and thumping? Why that would be Allie, grunting each time she slammed her shoulder into the door, or her foot, or her fist. The list detailing the rules of the game was crumpled and tossed carelessly on the floor (along with a couple of frilly blouses and dresses because frustration made her petulant).

The door didn't give, despite her ruthless assault. She took a step back, lip curled and twitching as she gave the door a sour stare. Finally, realizing the futility of her attacks, she spun around and folded her arms, dropping back to recline against the door. Her fair complexion was flushed with irritation as she closed her eyes. She took a deep breath, held it, and counted backwards. Ten...nine...eight...

Slowly, little by little, she let the held breath escape through her gritted teeth. Fine. Whatever. She'd play the stupid game...after elbowing the door one last time to make her displeasure very clear.

"Awright, I'm guessin' there's someone else in here, since I can't exactly make out with myself. C'mon out. I won't bitecha." Not unless they gave her a good reason, anyway.

Please. The ones around here are generally fine, but the South Side ones are... glitchy, I think. It's like someone made a gang out of disgruntled AIs. It's better just to avoid them. They're a bit more resilient than a rock 'em sock 'em bot.

I don't know, I mean... I'd hate to see you get bored around here. It's kind of my job to keep you on your toes.

Besides, they're like perfect training dummies. [No, Natasha. No they're not.]

[She could say something to that - give a little quip of her own but they're not anywhere near where she and Steve are. So, she keeps it to herself - lets the other woman think that she's never been in a situation like this, at the mercy of someone else's whims. It could come in handy later.

Besides, she's way more intrigued by her next series of movements. Now this was more like it. Her lips purse slightly as her head tilts to the side, giving a little shrug before following off the building. Her movements are relatively silent, landing like a cat with a trademark smirk on her face.]

I like your style.

[Shooting for innocent rather than intimidating, she offers a smile - turning as though the voice had surprised her.]

Who, me? Oh no. I was looking for a friend who's around here somewhere. Figured I'd try the coffee while I was at it.

[She gives a little laugh, flipping on the charm as she slides into the chair. It wasn't a full out lie - she was looking it just wasn't for anyone in particular.]

Besides, I always have a better time making a new friend rather than sitting off on my own. I'm Natalie.

[A hand extends across the table, her other still wrapped around her cup of coffee. The alias rolls off her tongue with a practiced grace, not trusting anyone in this coffee shop - not yet.]

[The look he gave her was flat and full of 'no'.]

Natasha... don't even think about it.

[ 'A friend.' Gabe knows code when he sees it. He lives in the Goodman house, for Chrissake: the girl is there to sneak out to find her beau. Whether or not her beau is worth her time, Gabe doesn't know. He's betting on no, though.

That's the problem with women, especially ones that look like this one. Nobody deserves them, because they're too good. His dad sure as hell didn't deserve his mom, but she settled.

Idly, Gabriel wonders if the redhead around him realizes this. Probably not. Best to watch her find out the hard way. So he smiles, busies himself with the untouched, cold coffee mug. Puts it in both hands and pulls it towards him, kicking the chair opposite from him out.

Have a seat, Natasha, it's free, and-- ]

Natalie.

[ He's not a spy or anything of the sort, so he can't exactly hide his surprise at the name. Maybe it's just the familiar name, but Gabe feels a mighty strong urge to figure her out. What makes this Natalie tick? Is it the same? Is it different? ]

New, here, too, Natalie?

Edited 2015-08-21 08:22 (UTC)

Gabe is a normal american male. Sort of. For simplicity's sake, he pretends he's a normal american male. Apple pie and baseball and key club and football and the list went on and on and on.

He didn't need rules for seven minutes in heaven. It was pretty much ingrained in every TV show, every dumb college movie. Every stupid romance novel or teen fiction that his sister pretended not to read.

He's not expecting himself to be in an actual closet, however, especially not after a rather tumultuous night at the Goodman household. Nor is he expecting a fiery redhead--pun intended--to be the one to wake him up with a rather alarming amount of clanging.

Was this what sleep felt like? A groggy head, and a cotton-like view of things for a few moments?

"You could always try hitting the door again," Comes his voice, sarcastic and bright, and Gabe flashes the other a smile. He's harmless. Really. A bland conversation starter, maybe, but Gabe is trying to sink his claws on something. Find something to mentally steady himself.

'I could try hitting you,' is what she almost says, but she reins in her temper. Tries to, anyway. Her blunt nails sink a little deeper into her arms when she realizes...they stuck her with a kid. A clean-cut good-looking kid, but still obviously a lot younger than her. More worrisome, why are the hairs on the back of her neck starting to prickle...?

"How old are you?" she shoots point blank, jerking her chin at him indicatively. She'd made it this far without landing in jail, and she wasn't going to take any chances just because someone dumped her in a closet with a ridiculously sturdy and well-crafted door.

What she should be asking is whether or not he's dead, but she's trying to figure him out. If he's a ghost, he sure doesn't look like the ghosts she's dealt with in the past. He looks normal for one, and corporeal for another.

"How old are you?" Gabe quips back, but there's still a sense of humour in his voice. He's not above experimenting.

'Experimenting,' though, makes him sound about 12. He winces at that, bouncing up from his spot, watching her carefully. Pretty, of course. He has a feeling everyone here is pretty. When you're stuck with your family for 18 years, though, of course everyone's going to be pretty.

It's probably because she looks like she's not afraid to kick Gabe's ass, though. That's definitely cool.

"Old enough," He answers cryptically, and finally moves over to the door. Tries it for himself, as if the pretty redhead somehow can't open it and he can. Surprise, he fails, and he pulls his lips into a frown. "Why does that even matter?"

"Thirty-two," she responds casually. "But it's rude to ask a woman 'bout her age." If it really bothered her, though, she wouldn't have answered.

Allie tilts her head slightly, thoughtfully studying him. He's either handling the situation surprisingly well, or he's just really good at hiding it.

When he goes for the door, she steps aside, turning to face him and watch. Seems like neither of them are going to have much luck with that thing. If it actually had a keyhole, she could pick the lock. But the handle is smooth, and there aren't any screws to loosen either.

"'Old enough?'" Allie snorts, and stoops to pick up the crumpled paper she tossed aside earlier. "Real convincin'. ...We really gotta kiss for seven minutes before they let us out?" Seems to be what the instructions state. Brother. She's not exactly the romantic sort, this isn't going to be very satisfying for either of them, is it? She drops her arms, resting her hands on her hips as she paces back and looks around. "How are they gonna know what we did and didn't do? Is there a camera hidin' out around here?" she muses aloud, pushing at some of the shirts and skating the hangers further back.

Now Percival is accustomed to sleeping in less than a comfortable bed. He is a Knight of Camelot after all, however a closet? That is a shade of something he has never seen before. First off, he does not even know what a closet is, second, it is a bit cramped. He had no choice but to shift stiff muscles and rise to his feet, there was no stretch room for a man of his size after all.

The sign was the next strange thing, what did the words on it mean? It was certainly not a phrase one heard in Camelot and it confused the Knight. He stood there, he looked at the sign. He looked all around him. Then he began to feel around and attempt to find a way out.

"Strange...." It was all very, very strange.

"I'm not that ugly," Gabe quips. It's his go-to for situations he doesn't know, doesn't quite feel comfortable in. None of this does, but there's no point in getting angry. No guilt, no sadness he can reap in here. Not now. Not yet.

Maybe--maybe--this girl has a secret Gabe can expose. For now? For now he's quite content in playing the good old all-american 18 year old he's supposed to be. Keep the perfect act up, pull people apart later.

What if he doesn't have to now, though? What if he can leave the older, beautiful girl alone? He torments because that's what he's always done, but now he's not with his mother anymore. Now it's just him. Him, and no other member of the Goodman family. Why can't he have fun? She's pretty. Gabe thinks he's fairly attractive.

He's standing up now, and sure he wants to give the girl some space. He leaves a small gap for her in case anything is unwanted, not wanting to be a dick and give her some space, and he licks his lips.

"Would it be so bad to kiss me?"

Allie glances back at him over her shoulder, green eyes flicking briefly up and down. He's attractive enough, true, and his scent isn't unpleasant. Under other circumstances, they might even get along. But there's still something very strange about him that she can't place, and that bothers her. He was evasive over even simple questions, and that was irritating if only because being ignorant was inherently frustrating.

"Dunno," she shrugs, and turns to face him directly. "If you just wanna get this over with, fine. That's fine." She squints, drawing her head back to regard him with a stern angle. "But there's somethin' funny about you." Allie pokes at his shoulder, just to verify that he's as solid as he looks. But he feels normal...well-built, warm to the touch. "Be straight with me. Who are you, and what are you?"

No frost for a bit. I don't want to leave them a trail they can follow.

[She smirked back, winking, and as the two of them moved she began to take Natasha on a merry little parkour joyride. It became apparent where she was headed after they'd gone from one building to another and around a corner. It wasn't more than a block or so away from the other building, but the entire first floor was a visible wreck, with broken masonry and ruined asphalt destroying obvious entry. It would probably eventually be demolished, when someone got around to it. However, like so many old, derelict buildings, it was forgotten and tomb-like.

The entry was into a fifth story window, accessible only through an old, ugly tree or actually scaling the wall. A few more flips and she was lunging into the room and rolling to a stop. If the damned 'bots followed them here, it would be a miracle.]

The words that the girl says come out of her mouth and fall on Gabriel like a bucket of ice water, and blue eyes are bright with something. A spark--unrecognizable, unreadable, but Gabe leans forward.

Allie just went from a means to an end to being interesting.

Incredibly interesting.

Not who. What. Gabe doesn't want to lie, just because it takes balls to accuse someone of being something like that. Also doesn't exactly want to tell her because he's not certain himself. All that matters is he's here, and he's away from his mother, and he's ready to latch on to something else. Someone else. Gabriel had thought, maybe, it could be this girl. That was the reason why he was here. Now he's not so certain that this girl was there to latch onto him, but to stop him.

But since when was the world so fucking black and white like that?

It isn't. So Gabe simply chuckles and takes a step towards her. He's slow, since he's already seen what she can do to a door let alone a human. It's only fair since she's touched him that the gets to touch her.

"Well," He states, keeping his voice nice and casual as both of his hands move to her hips, resting there so they're close. He looks down, offers a highschool quarterback smile. "My name's Gabe, I'm 18 years old, and currently our only way of getting out of this closet. That straight enough for you?

Her stare remains fixed on his face, as if she were a living lie detector just waiting for an excuse to throw a punch. Her jaw is firm, expression challenging.

But despite the ferocity in her countenance, she's not gearing up to fight. Not yet. She wants to hear what he has to say first, because there's definitely something unnatural about him. There's not a lot of room for an outright brawl, so she's holding back. If a fight becomes necessary, she'll act. She just needs to know if it's necessary.

His eyes are so bright, and so intense, that she doesn't realize where his hands are going until she feels the warmth on her hips. The expectant stare is momentarily broken, and he's rewarded with a faint blink of surprise as she drops her head to peer at his fingers curling over the stitching of her jeans. The glance doesn't last long; he's too close to ignore.

Even though she's the one with the extra years, his confidence and poise make her feel awkward and inexperienced. Her heart beats a little faster, and her breathing quickens. She's stiff in his grasp, but not afraid, and she doesn't back down.

Green eyes dance back and forth as she studies his face shrewdly. Whatever she's looking for, it doesn't seem to be there, and her hands remain unclenched. "It's a start," she concedes. "But it's not everything I asked."

He may be hedging on account that they're trapped in a closet and possibly being monitored. If that's the case, she might understand his reluctance. For all she knows, he might even be like her, touched with something a little extra and not knowing where it came from. There are just too many questions begging to be answered.

"If I find out you're in any way responsible for my being here," she says slowly, firmly, "I'm gonna be real unhappy." Enough that she might try using his head for a battering ram against the impossible door. But she doesn't know if he's a victim or a perpetrator. In a place like this, it could be either one.

Well, whatever. She's not required to make friends with him, just kiss him for seven minutes.

What? I wasn't.

[A soft sigh escapes as she scrolls back through the tablet. Clearly Steve wasn't gonna be any fun. She had time.]

I think the groceries should be here soon.

[Ha, groceries... Liquid groceries that fully support healthy coping with awful situations.]

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Page 7 of 9

Test Drive Meme #2

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sup boo

Allie Stoklasa | OC | F/M

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oh heeeeeey

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Ghosthunter + sort of ghost?

Works for me!

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I don't know what I am doing here, do I even go here?!?!?! Maybe, maybe not.

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