TEST DRIVE MEME #5

[penancemods]

ARRIVAL

You remember a dream.

Or maybe nightmare is more accurate.

It was full of hellfire nipping at your skin and a sensation of being pulled down no matter how much you struggle or cry for help. There's a voice that feels like it's coming from all around you at once. Contrasting with the nightmare unfolding around you, it's smooth as silk. It makes you want to listen with every bit of attention you can muster in the moment.

"Judgement has come upon you, but not to worry. It can still be undone."

The voice promises you redemption for your sins. It promises you a better life and everything you could ever want, if only you just stop struggling so much.

And so you do.


Everyone wakes up in the same room initially. The room is done up in red with a cushy bed, a window, an old TV in the corner on a desk, and a few Hieronymus Bosch paintings lining the wall. There's a bathroom to clean up in and any belongings will be sat around the room to be gathered later. There's a duffel bag provided for your convenience.

After feeling a sensation of falling or dropping onto the bed, characters wake up feeling like they've just slept for a week. Their body will feel heavy and stiff, they'll have a massive headache at first.

They'll quickly notice the list of their sins written with their blood on a bedside table on an old piece of parchment. This will mean the list is tied to them and can't be changed or tampered with. They'll also receive their device to connect with others and the network. It won't be anything terribly fancy. As a matter of fact, it looks like a very old Blackberry type phone.

Once characters are ready to leave the room, they'll head down long, winding halls. They're dimly lit and ominous feeling. They may encounter fellow sinners or demonic staff that will direct the newcomer down to the lobby to get their actual room key to settle in. They may be pushy, they may border on courteous. It really just depends on the mood of the staff at the time and how they're treated in return. Eventually, everyone comes to stairs that lead downward.



Once down to the lobby, you'll notice the front desk manned by a demon who looks bored out of its mind. To the side of him is the door to the kitchen where guests may help themselves. To the right is a small duty free shop that seems to have a surprisingly normal, expected stock of items. Look around a bit further, there will be a tiny bar tucked in through a corner door. It seems pretty well-stocked and best of all, self-serve if you want to get away from your demonic hosts for a bit. Of course there's some seating, bar games, and a jukebox tucked in the corner if you'd rather stay and socialize a bit.

Please note that all the songs on the jukebox are appropriately hell-themed. Hopefully Sympathy for the Devil is universally loved.

STAND YOUR GROUND

Prompt I

With the Mares leaving, the nightmares fade right along with them. Unfortunately, the hotel outside is looking rather worse for wear because of it. It's been pummeled, cracks in the siding and broken windows are everywhere. It looks much more befitting of the hellish landscape surrounding it, true, but Lucifer is already putting the demonic staff on repairs. They'll be enlisting the help of guests, whether they want to or not. Watch out when the whips and other punishments come out to play for those who seem to be slacking too hard.

The staff hardly has patience for it, whether the guests are feeling up to it or not. In truth, neither are the demons. Exhaustion is hanging heavy in the air for everyone.

But life must go on.

On the plus side, at least all the doorknobs and locks seem to be returning.

For current guests, they may now be dealing with a Frenzy come down and finding that they still itch for another fix. It won't be an easy ride. Withdrawals come with extreme fatigue, aches and pains, chills, depression, and an urge to potentially hurt yourself or others as agitation sets in. If asked for tips on dealing with it, the staff will tell the guests to just rest whenever they can, stay hydrated, and eat. The nausea that follows might make that difficult, but the staff seems to have very little time for sympathy at this point in time.

For new guests, they'll find things in quite a bit of disarray. Fortunately the demons are eager to hand out chores. They range from cleaning up broken glass and other items around the hotel, to removing boards from windows, to Hell beasts that need to be moved back from the basement to their enclosure just outside the hotel and helped to settle back in.

Anyone is free to visit any new beast friends they've made whenever they desire after this point. As a distraction, the hotel staff will even be offering riding lessons for larger beasts, both horse and canine-like ones.

Despite the push for normalcy though, there's a wariness in the air. Whether that's because of the recent bout with the Mares or the hushed whispers continuing on about the Veiled Order, it's uncertain. Something just feels off. Not to worry though, it's probably just paranoia creeping in. No one really wants to talk about it either way.

Every evening, once all the hard work is done, the staff seems to find the time to get a roaring fire going in the lobby fireplace and set up a buffet of food and drink for everyone to enjoy. There's every sort of food imaginable, and even some you wish you'd never seen. Spit-roasted dog, anyone? It's a delicacy here. There's also a lot of desserts of varying kinds from chocolates to ice cream to cakes and pies. Beer, coffee, sodas, and anything else people could want to drink is also on offer. There are even some specialty drinks for the vampiric guests around here.

There's entertainment as well. The demons are putting on makeshift plays and doing improv comedy routines, as well as dragging guests into the act if they seem interested. They'll ask them to perform tricks or act out Shakespearean scenes. For what it's worth, it does actually seem like everyone is trying to just have some fun. There's no harm in refusing to act anything out beyond some mostly good-natured booing and ribbing.

The succubi have also been given a room to set up for personal massages (with or without the happy ending). Massages are done in groups though, so you might want to rethink anything too frisky. If asked, the succubi will step aside and allow guests to massage each other instead, if that's more comfortable.

They're offering to help bathe and wash anyone who desires it for extra pampering, but most folks are understandably wary of the succubi and incubi around. No sexual play is actually being forced in these circumstances since, for once, the demons are well fed on sexual energy.

Oddly enough, the staff does seem to just genuinely want to do something refreshing. Although it's still probably clearly more for themselves than anyone else. Better enjoy it while it lasts though!

Prompt II

As another way to spoil (or distract) the guests a bit more, a new location has been brought to life!

Lucifer has insisted upon a movie theatre. It's located a short walk from the hotel. It's impossible to miss as the sign flickers and it's surrounded by a few very broken down, abandoned buildings still.

Outside, it looks like an old classic establishment from a time long since passed, but it has all the modern conveniences inside at least. From plush seats that recline and maybe get a bit too into giving a massage to all the treats you could ask for. So grab yourself some popcorn, a soda, hot dogs, or whatever else you want. There's also alcoholic beverages available for those who really need help getting through a movie.



Currently, the theatre is showing: Bedazzled, Manos: The Hands of Fate, Captain America (1990 version), Troll 2.

But there are request slips to be filled out by sinners if there's another movie they'd like to see when they rotate films around each month.

Located within the theatre is an arcade with zombie-themed shooter games, Pac-Man, motorcycle racing, and claw machines. There are also a few other gaming machines and one that's supposed to test romantic compatibility between couples. See if you're truly meant to be!

REACH UP HIGH

Prompt I
Warnings: cutting, blood, torture.

Whether you've been here for months or you're freshly arrived, your demonic overlord expects some participation. You can try and shirk the responsibility, of course. You can bargain your way out of it for a while. But eventually, you may find yourself trapped in a room just off the gym that's been fondly dubbed the torture room. It has all manner of equipment in there, along with an iron maiden even.

But don't worry about any of that right now. It probably won't be used.

You can try the door, but even with super human strength or every lock picking skill in the book, you won't be able to open it.

It soon becomes apparent what you're supposed to do soon enough when someone else is eventually shoved in with you. Both of your lists of sins will appear on a table that's been placed in the center of the room with two handy knives. You can choose to guard these or not care at all that they're on display.

"Know that honesty is a good place to start on your road to redemption. Sure, it can be terrifying at first, but that's why you've been given a partner in this journey. Pick up your knives and carve at least one sin into each other's flesh. Help in the journey to be candid with everyone you should meet here!"

The voice echoes all around you again, just like in the nightmare, and once again there's the pull to give in. This voice really does seem like it has your best interests at heart.

"If you need a bit of encouragement, we'll be giving it shortly."

It isn't a lie or idle threat either. The longer you wait to do what's been requested of you, the more shallow cuts that will appear on both of your bodies. Are you really prepared to endure this pain when giving in would be so much easier?

And more than that, are you willing to let another suffer along with you?

Eventually, the cuts will stop if you suffer them long enough, but you'll have failed this challenge and sustained more damage than if you'd just gone along with it. Satan will also be very disappointed in you.

Prompt II

"Offering one another counsel is a trait God rather admires. Compassion, goodwill... all of that. He has requested a demonstration that all of you are complying with your redemption, so I thought of a rather interesting way to show him." Lucifer's voice rings out warm and almost affectionate as he speaks within the guests' heads, the sound ringing within their skulls and beckoning them to trust him.

Even as demons grab at guests and haul them into a room only to lock the door. As usual, the doors can't be opened through any means guests will be able to perform. At least the room is cozy looking, with a plush couch and chairs.

"I must say that I'm proud of all of you. What I ask, I have no doubt that you will accomplish. Please, both of you have a seat and discuss anything from a bad memory, a fear, or even a silly little phobia you may not be proud of. Listen to each other, help one another as I know you can."

That's right. Guests are expected to share a bit about themselves, whether it's a trauma or a past sin they feel guilty for. Maybe it's even something as simple as an irrational fear of spiders... as long as it's sincere, it counts. Guests must absolutely share something if they don't want to be punished. They'll also have to provide sympathy or counsel.

If no one speaks, there's always a catch. The longer one of the participants refuses to speak of anything real, or lies, the more a headache will start to set in. Guests will feel a slight throbbing in the temples that grows steadily worse until it's almost blinding. Gradually, blood will start oozing from eyes, nose, and ears.

All of it will stop the minute guests comply and play along.

It is possible to wait out the punishment if guests are willing to let each other suffer for it, but this will be considered a failed challenge and Lucifer will have to rethink all that pride he said he had.

FOLLOW ME DOWN

Prompt I
Warnings: Alcohol and drug abuse, potential non-con/dub-con, kinks.

Those newly arrived to Hell will hear about a drug called Frenzy. The effects of which include the lack of a need to sleep for as long as one uses it, feeling like the best version of oneself, and feeling better than they possibly ever have. It may even get to the point where pain is minimized or even welcomed as a pleasurable experience.

The downsides of the drug include giving into a frenzy of one's basest instincts, whether it's lust or anger or anything else that they're naturally inclined towards.

This drug will be offered at the club outside the hotel, but the succubi who make it will demand payment up front this time. This can come in the form of keeping the club up and cleaned, serving guests, or performing on stage. It may also include sex with the demons or other patrons, or putting on solo performances for an audience. The succubi won't particularly care how willing guests are when they come to demand their payment and may force it.

Some will tell you that it's absolutely worth the price though, especially down in Hell where there's so much pain already. What's wrong with a little bit of escape, really? Others will tell you to stay far away from it all.

Of course the demons fail to mention it has the potential to be addictive, but users will probably figure that out on their own once they've come down. It isn't their fault if no one did their research!

Beyond Frenzy, the club also offers a variety of drinks and aphrodisiac-laced foods. There are poles for dancing, plush couches throughout as well as more private tables. There are stages where sex machines are set up, as well as other areas to tie up volunteers or to set up any other type of play imaginable. There are private rooms that can be rented out for the night for those who really want to explore their desires.

Attractive succubi and incubi roam the club as staff or active participants. Some will become more forceful if they're hungry, others will gladly offer any sort of temptations they can.

Careful if you ever see through a their pretty illusion and see the old, angry crones they really are though. It's a bit hard to forget that.

Regular demons also frequent the club, ranging in looks from tiny, mischief-making goblins to goat-like beasts to more humanoid types. There may even be tentacled-beasts who may not be the best at conversation, but will be eager to participate any play they're invited to.

There's a dance floor and loud music pumping through the club in a dedicated space for those who'd rather just dance the night away safely detached from the sexual side of things. All manner of drugs will be offered for those who ask staff, not just Frenzy.

Prompt II
Warnings: Potential violence and abuse.
There are hooded figures making their way through the hotel, but it's oddly hard to focus on them. The more guests try, the more their attention wants to drift to anything else.

For those magically inclined, they may notice the hint of a spell or black magic, but it's just as easily forgotten as everything else.

Guests won't even notice when the figure brushes against them, a skeletal hand adorned with gold brushing over any exposed skin they can reach with a whisper light touch.

It's an encounter that's so easily written off as guests continue on with their day, it really isn't worth mentioning at all later.

But ever since it happened, it feels like there's a poison that's entered the guest's system, twisting around their insides until they feel almost hollowed out. It's a whisper in the ear, inspiring envious feelings towards their fellow guests and the local demons that may never have been there before.

Why do they have it so easy? Why do they have fewer sins and why do more people love them than they do you? Why are you so unimportant to them? Why does everything come so easily to them when you have to work so hard for it?

Envy doesn't have to make any rational sense at all. It can happen at the most inopportune times and leave one feeling like they're burning up from the inside at the injustice of it all.

Even if it's someone a guest generally likes or gets along with, they'll feel this nasty little sensation creeping in.

Rage replaces the envy eventually. The anger starts to become overwhelming. After all, you're the one who is truly worthy of all the attention, all the adoration, all the things they've got. Other people are merely foolish for not realizing it.

Or perhaps it's not even envy at what the other guy has. Perhaps it's because the guest craves all the attention and all the affection of this other person. The guest may never have sought love or possession before, but suddenly it's all they seem to crave from this one person. They'll do anything to have it or to become as close to one person as possible.

Doesn't it eventually just make you want to hurt them for it all? Whether verbally or physically, guests will be drawn to action, or even force if they must. They will desire to either claim what they want or make the other admit to never having deserved it.

Alternatively, guests may also be reduced to begging to be noticed by the object of their envy, desperate enough to do anything to get what they feel is rightfully theirs.

This influence will be hard to fight off, but stronger guests will be able to fend off the envious effects of the mysterious demons. Others won't be so lucky.

MISC.
Thanks for joining us for our fifth test drive meme, sinners! Reserves are now open for the upcoming app round on September 1st

If you want to speak with Lucifer, you're free to text or pray to him right here.

If you have questions, comments, suggestions, etc., go here.


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Comments

Bullseye | Marvel Comics | ota | cw: blood, excessive violence, and Lester's foul mouth

[clozapine]

I. Stand Your Ground: Prompt 1

Waking up in a new place with a list of all the bad shit he's done as long as a jumbo sized roll of paper towel was unsettling at first, but as Lester gets a look around he decides this is considerably less awful than the last time he woke up in a strange place with no recollection of arriving and being unable to leave. He's instructed to head down to where the others are eating, and has no reason to protest--all the while looking out for items he may need to use as weapons in a pinch.

None the wiser to the true form of the incubi and succubi, he goes along with them to be catered to. Usually he'd prefer strangers not to be all up in his junk but, hell, they're all eerily attractive. And what kind of asshole refuses a pedicure and foot massage? Not this asshole.

"Get a load of this. I could get used to this place."

II. Reach Up High: Prompt 1

Well, the vacation was nice while it lasted. He's not sure why he's shoved into a room with a stranger, but approaches the table with two lists. His own is recognizable by sheer length, but he overlooks it in favor of taking up one of the knives. He turns it this way and that to examine it, not really looking up to whoever was unlucky enough to be stuck in that room with him.

"You better hope we don't have to fight to the death to get out of here, sweetness, because that list over there?" Lester points with the knife in his hand to the itemized list of all the wrongs of his life. "That's all the dumb fucks I've ever kill--"

He's cut off by the announcement that in order to leave the room they'll need to carve the other. Lester raises a brow in disbelief. "Now aint' that some shit."

III. Reach Up High: Prompt 2

Lester is starting to understand what these rooms are about now. They're like little fucked up therapy sessions that no one asked for. He's slowly starting to believe that it's actually hell. He can cut, carve, and incapacitate people all day and not get tired of it, but god forbid he have to actually sit down and talk about how he came to be the fucked up man he was.

"Yeah, no. I'm not doing this shit," he mumbles to himself, glancing over to the person stuck with him.

IV. Arrival: Network post

Anyone know where I can buy weapons? Guns would be fuckin great, but throwing knives and shit will work too.
Also, this place doesn't have any cops, right?

V. Wildcard
(Throw whatever you want this way and I'll work with it. I'll match format. Hit me up on Discord if you have questions. Yandere#7980)

IV. Arrival: Network post

[failed_antichrist]

No cops. Pretty sure they'd be the last of our worries.

But haven't seen any of the other stuff you asked for, either. Except, you know, knives in the torture rooms.

[clozapine]

So, basically, you're telling me to hoard that shit if I can find it?

[failed_antichrist]

yeah, and your name? i need to know who to avoid.

[clozapine]

Call me Tinkerbell, babes.

II. what the heck, how bad can this possibly go?

[knucklesdirty]

Francis doesn't look any more thrilled than Lester. He's tall, scruffy blonde hair, and a seeming fondness for the color purple. A bit on the lanky side, but with shoulders that came with using a bow from the time he was old enough to figure which way the arrow went. He cocks his head at the man's words, a slight curl of his lips, though it thins with the announcement of what's expected of them. "Yeah well, killing people doesn't make you special."

Not as if Francis could ever keep his mouth shut, and especially not here, when something about the guy just rubs him the wrong way. On the upside, this guy isn't someone he's got a whole lotta qualms about cutting sins into, though he's a little less thrilled about the concept of the inverse.

Not that he regrets any of his supposed sins; he'd been fighting to survive. It was what it was. But letting this guy carve something into his skin? That's a lot less appealing. He picks up the knife, flipping it in his fingers.

"Well, this is new. Not sure I'm a fan."

Pretty damn bad, maybe?

[clozapine]

Lester has poor posture which makes his height and musculature seem less threatening at times, but the thing about him that may actually be scary is how unbothered he is by the whole thing despite this being his first time in such a situation.

"I don't usually like to kill kids, but for you I'll make an exception. That makes you special, princess." According to the rules he doesn't actually need to kill the guy, but he's fairly certain it'd be easier than trying to get him to hold still for the carving part--and it'd be fun. It's been a while since the last time he's killed anyone.

But to get that point he'll need to figure one thing out. "Wanna tell me what your sin list is all about? Gimme the Cliff Notes version. Preferably a short word if it does come to carving. Confess your sins to old Bullseye. I won't judge too bad." The good thing about this is that he can wait for the kid to come at him before trying anything. Sure he could throw his knife into his throat, but that wouldn't be half as enjoyable as choking him out.

[knucklesdirty]

Francis isn't exactly overly thrilled by the situation, but there's a decided lack of panic about him, too. He handles the knife easy and almost casual, trying to work out how to make this work.

"Oh, now doesn't that just make me feel all warm and gooey inside," he says with a wry sort of amusement, a curl of his mouth. He doesn't seem particularly bothered by the implied death-threat. Not that he doesn't believe him, but Francis has lived under threat of death and murder for as far back as he can remember. It sharpens his eyes a little though, makes the blue glint a little brighter. It's been a while, but he's always that person.

Francis doesn't like killing people if he can avoid it. The violence though? That's different. "Bullseye? Is that your name?" It's not a judgement given his own monicker, but more a curious sort of interest. The room doesn't have too many other knives, but there are all sorts of other interesting things around.

"Why don't you tell me yours first? Pretty sure it'll be more fun."

[clozapine]

For whatever reason that makes him smile. "Everyone is warm and gooey inside."

The way the kid responds to him is interesting. He can tell this isn't his first time in a situation as fucked up as this one, and it reminds him of someone he knows--knew, technically. Lester's pretty sure he wasn't going to cross paths with those people again.

"Feels weird to go by my birth name when I may have killed my parents." He's joking. Or is he? The laughter that follows makes it hard to tell. The laughter stops when he feels a slash cut through the flesh of his shoulder from some sort of phantom knife.

"Fuck!" He hisses, but doesn't drop the knife in his hand instead, for a moment, he looks like he's thinking hard about something. The angle he needs the ricochet the knife from the wall so that it will hit Francis non-leathally but enough to incapacitate him just for a couple seconds. It's all he needs.

"Listen, kid. I'd love to tell you how many times I've fucked your mother...or your father, I don't discriminate, but I really ain't in the mood to be cut to shreds tonight." Lester throws his knife right at Francis, assuming he will dodge it so it can hit the back of the wall and sink into the back of his thigh. At which point he moves forward in a hurry to push him to the ground, trying to pry that knife away from him. Shit, if he has to, he'll carve all the sins he can think of into the kid just to get out of this shit.

III

[dealwiththedeva]

"Quit your yappin'! Or rather get a move on it so we can get outta here." The gruff voice, which sounds like it belongs to a Brooklyn mobster from the 70s, actually comes from a being that looks more like it should be one of the demons running the show here. Between the three eyes, nine foot tall frame, dangerous looking claws, and armored tail (what kind of a tail even needs armor?), Beelzemon very much looks like a demon, but he's not. Just a Digimon that's been sentences here like everyone else.

He's sitting on the couch and hogging all the room, though partially that's just because he's so dang large. Beelzemon's got long limbs that aren't proportional to his body like a human's which are sprawling out farther off the couch no matter how much he sinks into it. He looks fairly casual for the moment despite his intimidating appearance, though really, he doesn't want to talk about this just like Lester does. He prefers not to think of all the horrible things he's done in his life.

[clozapine]

Lester doesn't take kindly to his tone, but takes a seat on the far end of the couch where he can manage to find a spot. If they're going to be there for a while, best to be comfortable if he can. He's used to pretty much any variation of the New York accents by now, so he's not letting the huge creature piss in his cheerios. Like hell is he sharing shit about himself or his life.

"If I had a knife from that other room, I'd put you out of your misery so getting out of here wouldn't be an issue for you." he mumbles, crossing his legs and stretching his arms out over the back of the couch casually. Whoever put them up to this couldn't possibly keep them here forever.

[dealwiththedeva]

Beelzemon just snorts at the threat. He's not about to be intimidated by any squishy little human. "You could try, buddy boy. I'd blast you so hard there wouldn't be anything left standing." He gestures to the sawed-off shotgun that's sitting in a holster on his right thigh, large enough it's comparable in size to a small child. Beelzemon won't use it on human beings any longer, but there's no way that Lester would know that.

He moves slightly as he tries to find a comfortable position for his tail. Couches aren't really made for those sitting on an extra appendage, so he lashes it back and forth slightly until he thinks he's found a better position. "Why don't we start with names?"

[clozapine]

Lester doesn't notice the shotgun until the guy points it out, at which point he's already grinning to himself and thinking about how he's gonna get it from him.

He shifts closer to Beelzemon like he's totally into the idea of whatever story time they're about to have with each other. "Bullseye. What do I call you, handsome?" It's worth a shot. Doesn't look like a being that people might find handsome, so maybe it'll work out?

And if he's making heavy eye contact it's to distract from the hand that's reaching slowly toward that sawed-off.

Reach Up High 2

[hiddenobjective]

Cain had learned his lesson a few weeks back - avoid the 'torture rooms'. Not that the demons wouldn't randomly snag people and toss them in anyway. And, that's exactly what he thought was happening as he got dragged into the room, not bothering to resist much.

Instead of knives, though, there were... comfortable looking couches?

"What... the fuck is this?" Of course, he really didn't need to ask. They're told exactly what's expected of them.

"They're fucking joking, right?" He looked over the other man in the room, not recognizing him.

[clozapine]

Lester laughs, because what the actual fuck.

"What the hell is this place? Group therapy for psychopaths and bondage enthusiasts?" He's referring to Cain's outfit, looking him up and down before dropping down on the couch. Beats standing up and going back and forth with this asshole. Too bad there isn't food. He drapes his arms over the back of the cough and crosses his legs in a way that still takes up as much space as possible.

"Better make yourself comfortable, kid, because I ain't sayin' shit."

[hiddenobjective]

What the Hell is this place?

Cain was going to blame the lack of sleep over the past few days... weeks? He'd honestly lost track of time and without sleeping days really bled together. But he finds the guy's question hilarious. He kept his reaction to an amused smirk though.

"Hell," It's a succinct answer, but there it was.

Cain checked the door, just in case, but upon finding it locked, he plopped down onto the other couch, getting comfortable.

"Last time this happened there were consequences for not playing along... Guess we'll see," He sighed, shifting slightly to pull out a pack of smokes and light one up, ashing the cigarette carelessly over the back of the couch.

network; wiccan666

[noassgardian]

Why would there be cops in Hell?
You can find weapons around, I guess. Look in the room next to the gym.

[clozapine]

Oh so this is hell-hell? Not a generalized hell as in a shitty place to be.
Good to know, kid. Thanks.

[noassgardian]

I mean, I thought the demons would've given that away...
I'm not a kid either.

Reach Up High II

[blindninja]

He's never liked being manhandled, even by people with the best intentions making assumptions going off the very visual, very obvious cues that he might possibly need the help navigating and getting around. Clenching his teeth, Matt breathes a sigh against the closed door. He can't really hear what's going on outside, so he doubts they'll be able to hear him even if he screamed his lungs out.

This whole place makes him want to scream his lungs out. But he feels fairly resigned to his fate. He's been judged, and he's been damned, and while he's currently not necessarily fine with the idea, he's swallowing the hard pill down as best he can.

Turning his head towards a version of someone he ought to recognise, but doesn't, Matt bites the tip of his tongue to stop two dozen confessions from spilling out. He's no stranger to laying his own sins bare but he can smell ambivalence before Lester had even said anything.

"What should we do then?" he asks, pressing his lips into a thin, flat line.

[clozapine]

Lester makes himself comfortable on the couch and scratches his stomach like the place is his own and he's just lounging at home. He doesn't know if there are consequences to not complying or what those consequences might be, so of course he has no inclination to start sharing just yet.

"Therapy has never been my thing. Never takes." He shrugs, gesturing for the guy to sit if he wants. "How long have you been in this shitstain? Don't suppose you have any idea how to get out?"

At the back of his mind he's a little concerned about the headache that's growing steadily. He doesn't usually get them so he's worried it may be related to all this, but makes sure not to let it show when he speaks to the other man.

"We don't do anything. Or they'll think we are susceptible to their bullshit every time."

[blindninja]

"I'm partial to confessions, myself." It's hard to do therapy when he can smell them judging all his words. At least with a priest it seems like they've heard it all, or at least enough of it not to have that spike in body heat-generating emotions or pull creaking muscles to make that face.

"Not long, and. I think we're sealed in." The corner of his lips twitch but he doesn't seem to respond to the gesture to sit, instead just lingering by the door even though he's turned to face Lester now.

"We should come up with a plan to leave. Otherwise they might leave us here to uh. Talk it out."

Reach Up High: Prompt II

[scammin]

"Well I'm not doing this shit either, so stop being a pussy and cough up some confession about stealing another kid's lunchmoney or popping boners over your grandma." Dee steals the good couch for herself, shooting an expectant and impatient look towards Lester. All the stress has brought out the most crass elements of her otherwise lady-like constitution. "I can't be the worst shrink you've ever been to."

This is absolutely Hell. Sweet Dee has no intention of divulging vulnerable information to anyone, much less her less-than-handsome companion who may or may not have choked her in the past. She doesn't particularly intend to be a good listener, either, because that sounds like a lot of work and she has a tendency to tune out when people start talking about their feelings. She sees that void of empathy as a particularly effective strategy to getting ahead in this world.

She crosses one leg over the other.

"If you need a prompt, you can start with why your face looks like a griddle. Oooh!" She snickers and slaps her hand in her own self-sustaining high five.

hella late because of video game releases

[clozapine]

"Jesus christ. You're here too?!"

Lester seriously can't seem to get away. Not that he was really running when he turned up here. Even if he and Dee didn't always ever see eye to eye, she was always dtf when there was nothing else to do. And that was pretty nice. But now they're in hell together, and it makes sense that she'd be here. That part isn't so shocking.

"Anyone with common sense stole lunch money as a kid, and I never met my grandma. How about you shut the hell up for a change or talk about a creepy uncle who liked to touch you." He might be projecting a little with that one, but who didn't have a shady uncle?

"I don't see what's funny. You sat on this face, didn't you?" His memory is fuzzy since waking up here, but he's pretty sure he remembers they fucked. At least once.

first of all how dare you second of all cw rape and incest talk

[scammin]

"Wow. Rude." She raises her eyebrows as if she isn't a little bit hurt. "I didn't have a creepy uncle. I have a creepy little brother, but that's mostly towards other girls."

Mostly. She settles back, figuring they're going to be here a while. Sweet Dee doesn't see herself as breakable, so in her estimation he'll have to jab around for a while before he gets anything useful from her. And she knows just enough about other people to know that he's a stubborn piece of shit, so she can't just bulldoze him.

Whatever. She doesn't have anywhere else to be until the detox kicks in, and that gives her about a day. But she does wince as a pulse of discomfort moves from her eye sockets through her sinuses.

"Last time I checked I didn't have eyes on my vagina, dick." He was a good lay! 8/10 would bang again! Maybe 7/10. Dee's used to having sex with dudes who are straight-up unconscious so getting eaten out is a rare pleasure. "Do you have a creepy uncle who liked to touch you?"