tramitem_meme | Test Drive Meme #1

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Test Drive Meme #1

✦ TEST DRIVE MEME ✦
... And when my good dream came to an end, I woke up more than ready to bend ... Game Navigation

✦ Directions A few rules for the TDM: 1. Pick a prompt 2. Comment with your thread start, with your character name and fandom in the subject line. 3. Tag into other's threads. 4. Have fun! 5. And what happens on the TDM stays on the TDM (it's not taken in game). If you have questions, ask the MODS ✦ PROMPT ONE – Déjà Vu** This may not be the first time it has happened. You really wouldn’t have any way of knowing, would you? You’ve just been living your life as a citizen of the city you live in New York, the city, they say, that never sleeps. It’s a place you always wanted to live in, hearing about it as a child, and it sounded exciting to you. Or maybe it was the place you wanted to get to in order to become something more, something interesting, something that would bring you up in the world. You wanted to be there more than anything. But anyway, right now it sure seems like the first time it’s ever happened. You experienced a sudden flash, a rending of unreality from reality, the way a person would rend a piece of cloth in two, but this is the world, and you don’t know what to think at first. Because this isn’t your life. Except it totally is. You know it is, like you’ve never known anything. This is your memory and when you come out of it you know that was your life you were witnessing. This is known as the Event, and it will change everything for you. Those around you notice one thing about you during the time you’re experiencing this memory—you’re frozen, as if you’re frozen in time. And it’s catching. ✦ PROMPT TWO – Network Life before the Event and after are a study in contrast. Before, you thought you knew who you were and what you were doing here. Now, all of that is in turmoil. Especially after your encounter with the man from the Bureau. Now, you don’t really know whether to trust the man from the organization that came to talk to you. Something about him seemed...off. Something that was enough to, perhaps, even make you feel suspicious. But now you know...you are one of the Different. You feel like it, too. Members of the Different, the man from the Bureau told you, have their own special Network to communicate on. Will you post to it? Will you relate your memories to the others among the Different—or will you come up with something completely different to say? ✦ PROMPT THREE – Support Group There’s a generic spread of food on a table off to one side of the room: donuts and muffins, coffee and lemonade. Maybe you’re hungry enough to try it—it’s free after all. Or maybe you can’t stomach anything, given the event you’re attending. The space is a local rec center, reserved for the evening. The beige-painted cinder block walls and the fluorescent lighting are a terrible combination. The meeting was interesting—who knew there were so many people like you, receiving memories of a past life? The group was led by someone from The Bureau—the Department of Medical Services. Some people are staying in their chairs and chatting—they must know each other from previous meetings. Some of them are gravitating towards the food. How do you feel about tonight? Has it helped you come to terms with the dream of memories you’re having? Maybe it’s time to talk to others, get an understanding of their experience. ✦ PROMPT FOUR – Crime wave New York City has grown increasingly more safe over the last decade or two—statistics bear that out, as well as the experiences of the people who live here. But something seems to have suddenly broken in the hearts and minds of your fellow-citizens here in the last day, ever since the sun has come up. People are being incredibly opportunistic about carrying out their wildest dreams, or at least, as long as their wildest dreams include attacking people around them to try rob them or to kill them. The longer the day goes on, the more and more people seem unable to resist giving into their bases desires. Bank robberies are happening right and left. The strangest part of it all, though, is that anyone who is defied by their victim seems to snap out of some reverie they couldn’t control. That’s right, this whole crime wave seems to be some kind of brain sickness. Maybe this means the people around you need to be cured by having someone fight back. Or maybe it means you catch the sickness yourself, before you know it. ...Maybe it’s time to hide and ride the whole crime wave out somewhere where you won’t become collateral damage. ✦ PROMPT FIVE – Zombie Universe Bleed Over - the crack option (Third person log or First person Network response are both encouraged.) One week ago you were living an average life. You were trying to make New York City work for you, a place to call home. Were you in a rough patch? Were things just starting to pick up? Or was life swimming along as you expected? Today, you are running down the street with a lumbering hoard of the Undead ambling after you. They have caught the scent of your living brain and it is a tasty snack to them. You have a weapon in hand - a pipe? a crowbar? a bat? but there are too many behind you to take them all out before they get you. You’re only option is to run, find help. (Power mode – along with your memories you’ve started getting back powers, what if you tried them out against the zombies?) When you were told that different universes bleed over into this one, did you believe it? Do you believe it now? ✦ PROMPT SIX – Wildcard What are you doing around NYC?
... What dreams may come when we have shuffled off this mortal coil, must give us pause ...
( return to top \| Last updated: January 23, 2020 )

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"Depends on how important it is for you to be able to tell an axle from a toe loop from a lutz," he said, with amusement, but -

"I'm going to give you the six year old version first. Don't be insulted.." He hoped, because this was a bit beneath Clint's current ability. "Left arm in front of you, bent at the elbow. Twist to the right and reach behind you with your right arm. Then pull it in fast and hard, bring your arms together." Just centrifugal force. "Keep your feet together."

Physics can be relied on to do certain things, and in this case it gets Clint to spin.

"I should've come to the six year old class, I could show 'em all up with this," he grins, doing it again, trying it from the other side.

"I don't know, Clint, I've seen some impressive six year olds.... You might have some competition." He watches Clint with a little grin, because seeing him have fun makes him really glad he issued the invitation.

"Great, now add your right leg to the mix. Push off, bring it in, watch your center of gravity." He demonstrates once he's finished speaking slowed down.

The first two times, Clint is careful. But after that he pushes himself, seeing how many times he can spin, figuring things like dizziness won't matter. He's wrong on that but he doesn't fall...he nearly does, but he catches himself.

"How different did my spin look from yours, be honest," he's betting it was very.

Ah, there's the perfectionist. Enough so that Ben actually goes quiet and tilts his head at Clint in....

He's not sure if he is impressed, or amused, or mildly horrified.

Maybe all of the above.

...probably all of the above.

"I've been skating for twenty-five years. It looked different. It also looked damn good for someone who couldn't do a turn fifteen minutes ago." He is not joking about that. "You've got really good balance."

"You'd get a better tip if you lied," Clint teases with mock severity. He is visibly, genuinely pleased with the praise though. He doesn't get a whole lot of it, living the life he's lived.

"Yanno, playing the drums in front of the whole city maybe sounds nervewracking but none of them get to stand there and hand me a score. You must be pretty comfortable in front of a crowd, huh? You ever want to punch a judge?"

"I have never lied for money, and I don't think I've ever wanted to punch anyone, much less a judge." He sounds more amused than offended or confused, though. It's just not his nature. He is really, really not particularly aggressive most of the time. Not with people, anyway and not that way.

He shakes his head a little, smile turning wry at that question from Clint. He resumes skating backward, albeit slowly to encourage Clint to keep moving. "Between you and me? Performance was my least favorite part. I just love skating. And training. And eating." But the eating part was just him leveraging what he loved.

Clint had been skating but he brings himself to a quick halt, feigning shock. "Eating's a big part of this? Heck, I might give up drums and work on this instead."

He glides after Ben again, but he's studying his teacher--as much as he can will also trying hard not to waver or fall. "I can't tell if you're serious about not wanting to punch anyone ever."

"I hear eating's an important part of staying alive. Though there is likely going to be pizza up front by the time we're finished here." Which is more direct feeding than just earning money to eat.

Then he looks quizzical at Clint's apparent confusion - like he just doesn't quite understand. "I've wanted to yell at people. I've certainly gotten angry. I've never had any particular desire to hit anyone. Maybe throw something?"

Edited 2020-02-18 03:51 (UTC)

Clint's expression is thoughtful, befuddled, like he can't quite get his head around the idea of never throwing a punch. As foreign as the concept is, there's also a part of him that's something like jealous over it.

"I try to stay out of trouble," he says, in case the question has Ben thinking maybe Clint is a violent nutjob. "But you know how kids can be, it just started early for me. Thank God adults don't pick fights over nothing, huh?"

He shakes his head, slightly, but there's a smile to go with it and it's all meant to be reassuring. He doesn't think Clint is inherently violent.

"Adults don't pick fights over nothing," he says, by way of partial explanation.

His skating backward is still happening, though he switches to crossovers which is... lazier, actually than what he'd been doing, even if the footwork was more complicated.

Then elaborates. "I was being home schooled by eleven, taught by tutors by 14, and didn't get back to being in any kind of in person classroom until college. When I was around kids my age we were all... career focused and the environment was really structured. Kids were still assholes but physical fighting wasn't really a factor."

It takes a second for him to realize why Ben was homeschooled, that something like this sport took its toll early and not just on the knees.

It would probably come as no surprise that Clint had no structure, that he's always been around people who had nothing much in common with him. Even if he'd had a talent like Ben has, his parents wouldn't have been able to afford to nurture it. Assuming they would have wanted to try, which...well. Barney had talents. Barney is a bum in worse shape than Clint now.

The thought of his life lined up against Ben's doesn't make him feel bitter or morose or jealous. It's just interesting to meet someone who had the drive and the opportunity to succeed.

"I never went to college," obviously. "But I bet it was an adjustment, huh?"

And he, in turn, does not pity Clint but does recognize that he had an enormous amount of opportunity and privilege that Clint - and most people - do not.

"It was a slow entry and there was a lot of distance learning until about six months before I graduated, but I loved being around people who were more diverse. I still do. It's part of why I love teaching little kids." And people like Clint, when he can rope them in. People like Clint being people not like him.

"I'd lose my mind if I didn't have people around," different kinds of people, a hundred varieties and more. He practices a spin and this time he's pleased with how it turns out. "I'm never around kids much, though. Which is kinda too bad. They always sound like they're having the time of their lives even if what they're doing is throwing a tantrum."

"I still hit a wall where I'm ready to retreat into my own space and lock the city and people outside," he admits, "but I like the option to be around people and I love kids. When I don't want to strangle the little shits for trying to kill themselves on my watch and even then- they're so... open."

There's barely a pause but he nods - "That one was really good. I bet I could get you jumping in... a month, probably." Maybe less and not the super high, multiple rotation things, maybe, but off the ice and back on without busting his ass or face.

Clint gives him a quick, surprised smile. He's keenly aware of the risks of jumping on ice wearing nothing but narrow blades strapped to his feet. He's immediately determined that he is going to do it anyway, when he's got moving mastered.

"The other day I had a little girl walk up and give me a dollar," he says, marveling a little at it. "I thought her parents gave it to her to, I don't know, teach her to be nice. But nah, her mom said she earned it with chores. I think that's what she said." He hadn't charged the hearing aids well the night before. Which is why, "I'm pretty sure my music sucked that day. Do kids feel pity that early?"

He really, really, more than he could easily express, appreciated Clint not being afraid of falling. For one thing, dealing with that in adults is why it was so hard for most of them to pick it up - not that he usually taught adults who weren't already well onto their way to some high level competition - but it also made them more likely to fall. They just then fell at lower speeds.

"I don't know about pity," he said, with a faint frown, "but ones with good parents tend to be pretty good at empathy. At least in fits and starts between a more natural state of new total psychopathic levels of self-centered. Depends on how young they are."

He snorts, does a spin, skates, stops. "They are kind of scary little bastards sometimes, aren't they? Do you remember being young enough to be that self-centered?"

He watches that spin with a critical eye. "Now do that on one foot." He demonstrates that one, though it's still a pretty slowed down sweep and push out, arms in and legs in. Just when the leg comes in it comes up near his knee.

Once he's stopped. "No. I remember being that young, but not a lot of how my mind worked. Do you?"

Clint scowls in concentration and gives it a go before he answers. He can't quite keep his balance, decides he was going too slowly to get momentum, tries again and manages a sloppy version of what Ben showed.

"Kind of. I remember letting my brother take the blame for stealing a bag of candy, and I didn't feel bad about it. Not until he got back at me, so my conscience probably hadn't formed yet." He scowls again, but this time it's softer. "How do you keep your head together? Knowing you're someone else, somewhere else, and still remembering growing up as- as Ben the ice skater?"

He starts to give Clint some more skating advice but then stops, skates in a neat t position that results in him being pretty solidly planted on the ice.

Because that is a really big question that he hadn't expected at all.

"I'm not sure I do, or have. Not that my head isn't reasonably together, just that I haven't really... done anything with the extra memories. They're there, and intrusive but I can ignore them, at least for now. What are you doing with them?"

A long breath in through his nose. He'd brought this up for a reason, so he doesn't let himself balk. Yes, it's crazy, but Ben's a futuristic knight in some other world. And Clint...

"I think I'm dead. My last memory was me falling off a building and trying to shoot some kind of hook. It didn't stick. I remember hitting the side of the building. I felt things break. I don't know what to do with that."

Well...

That's heavier than he was expecting.

He takes a minute to process, and then says, somewhat tentatively: "I suppose if these really are memories of former lives we'd all have to have died to have a new one. That doesn't make it less disturbing."

"No one's said if they remember dying yet. Maybe they're just keeping it to themselves, or maybe I'm just the lucky duck." Another, shorter sigh and he starts moving, skating again. "It felt like it was in real time when I was remembering it. But all the memories are like that now. Hey, have you met anyone from yours?"

"Feeling like you've died is not what I'd call lucky, by any standard." He moves with Clint enough to stay in range of being heard, but it feels awkward to him for that moment. "My only memory at this point is meeting someone I know casually. Only much, much, younger and in different context entirely."

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faucon - 2020-02-21 03:44 (UTC) - Expand

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