Test Drive Meme #7

[changelinged]

TDM #7 - February/March 2026

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🦋 The Party

CW: alcoholism

You wake up at a party.

You're not sure how, exactly, you got here. You may have just been walking in the woods or at a meeting for work or doing any other normal activity for you. But you know you weren't supposed to be at this party, you're fairly certain.

Anyone you ask about it will say the party is for you. You and the others also waking up and looking confused. Further questions will lead to the partygoers insisting you have something to eat or take a jello shot. You're starving and others are eating the food without repercussion, so you figure there's no harm in a bite. You finish your portion.

As winter and darkness still rage on within the realm, the Ruler of the Winter Court accompanied by the Ruler of the Dark Court have decided to appease their pets constituents once again after Earl Ahri was terribly possessed last month. And what better way to do it than to throw a college-themed house party? With the prince's extensive (and shallow) knowledge of the human world, he thought it's just fitting to throw a party where most Adopted "get wild and drunk" and "high and happy" as it were. After all, college is when most human pets are the happiest, right? The Earl's only request is for the gathering to occur at night.

With this in mind, the party's held in a huge suburbian mansion that seems to have endless rooms, much like the faerie castle. Decors include cheap streamers and balloons haphazardly thrown all over couches and chairs. There are jello shots, snacks, and empty bottles of liquor everywhere as if no one bothered to clean them up. If an Adopted takes a single jello shot, they would feel more and more inebriated as the night wears on.

Of course, different fae have joined in on the fun. All of them are dressed in early 2000's fashion, while some are in jersey uniforms, pretending to be human with varying levels of success. They can be heard talking to each other using words like "no biggie" or "right on, my man" without sounding natural or with a strange accent. They can also be seen crowding nearby next to an Adopted and gossiping about them.

As the party winds down and everyone's eaten, a tall, stately woman stands up on one of the tables and speaks. You feel her voice more than hear it.

I am the Lawspeaker of the Fae, elected by Seelie and Unseelie alike, and you are all, now, subjects of Faerie. You cannot leave this realm once you have eaten our food, and even if you could, there is no saying how much time has passed back where you're from. Your loved ones are likely dead, your problems have likely played out. We require assistance in various matters, and each of you has been chosen for your talent and skill. You will be adopted by one of the Seelie or Unseelie Courts based on your strengths and personality. Your Court will decide what to do with you from there.

As suddenly as she stood, she sits back down.

🦋 Sweater Weather

CW: forced confession

In one of the rooms an Adopted will chance upon, everyone seems to be wearing an ugly sweater. Seems harmless enough. After all, the other rooms contained a variety of surprises. Some have fae making out inside. Another have some fae gathered comforting another fae crying their heart out because they were dumped in front of a Taco Bell. Usual college party drama.

So, this room should be fine. Except the moment an Adopted steps in, they're instantly wearing a restricting ugly sweater. That should be alright. It's just a sweater. It can be taken off.

Guess again. Because any attempts to pull it off will prove futile, either by the Adopted wearing it or by another Adopted. It's also resistant to any magical or elemental attacks. Glamor spells, transmutation, shapeshifting, phasing through don't appear to work either. An Adopted's just stuck wearing it.

What's worse is that the ugly sweater's not just, well, ugly, but it also reveals an Adopted's deepest, darkest secret as knitted text on the fabric. As the Adopted looks around, everyone wearing an ugly sweater within this room has some sort of statement on them. A secret the wearer's trying to hide. If that's the case, an Adopted can just leave the room and the sweater will disappear, right?

The thing is, the only way out is to give more context to the secret displayed on the ugly sweater, share the story behind it, and accept it as a known fact about themselves. Or an Adopted can share another secret. One cat's out of the bag, anyway.

🦋 School Spirit

CW: forced telepathy/mind reading, forced empathy bonding, forced participation, forced truth sharing, loss of agency

A college party won't be complete without a display of some school spirit. Faerie University (F.U.) is a renowned institution, after all, and its students pride themselves of representing their alma mater well.

With this said, everyone attending the party has to be wearing one of the many college pins up for grabs before entering. The pins themselves all have some kind of flower on them and whoever pair wears the exact same one will find they're able to read each other's minds or feel each other's emotions depending on the pin they put on below:

• Marigold Pin: It's odd how you can hear the thoughts of the person beside or near you. Maybe you're both in the same room or suddenly beside each other. Whatever it is, this Adopted's thoughts are loud, and if you reply to them in your head, they will actually be able to hear you, too.
• Bleeding Heart Pin: The sorrow that radiates from this Adopted beside you, even when they look so composed, is hard to ignore and impossible not to feel. Even their joy, stress, anger, embarrassment, and maybe even their lust. Whatever it is, you share in the emotion. Do you tell the other person or just bask in this feeling?

But wait, there's more! The school spirit won't be complete without the annual F.U. Keg Stand Competition. Participants who are curious to try, as well as forced by some fae through the power of a Compelling Spell that's impossible to shake nor dispell, will find themselves drinking some pretty good beer.

So good, in fact, that it's not actually beer. It's a truth serum. After all, the real prize of the competition are the lies we cannot say.

As soon as a participant's turn is over, they would feel instantly tipsy, and immediately dropping truth bombs unprompted. Is it a crush? Did you kill someone's loved one? Did you sleep with a fae? Whatever it might be, it's coming out whether an Adopted likes it or not.

If an Adopted is a spectator of the competition, they might also be affected to a lesser degree. The smell of the beer is powerful and a single whiff might make one vulnerable to telling the truth upon closer interrogation.

🦋 GEIS

You feel a vibration in your pocket sometime after the Lawspeaker addresses everyone. When you search for the source, you will pull out your Leaf, the device the Fae use to stay in touch with each other. Anyone who's used a smart phone will easily recognize how it works.

Greetings, Adopted. This is your Lawspeaker.

Tell us all of a time you forgot something or someone important to you. A reward might await the most truthful answer given.

ｎａｖｉｇａｔｉｏｎ

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Comments

[chronfrere]

[There's a lot to unpack, once again. He listens quietly, taking care to bite between sentences (just.... in case, even with her reassurance that the worst is over). She's not wrong on that, although the mention of Renoir being here is understandably alarming, and it shows clear as day on his expression. That man... here. And Maelle has been alone not only with him but the rest of this Painter and/or Painted family. From the sound of things, nothing has gone horribly wrong, but... still. He's anxious on her behalf immediately. (And. A little on his own, as well. Or maybe a lot, actually. That is the man who murdered him like, an hour ago.)

He's quiet for a bit after, long after he chews and swallows, processing each and every bit of this new information. Clea, she'd brought up before. Daughter of the Paintress. "And... I am, too." So, Maelle's... sister, of sort. But not enough of one to call her that. She hadn't called this "Aline" her mother, either. It makes sense - hearing something doesn't mean feeling it, and Maelle doesn't remember - and maybe some silly, selfish part of him would feel offense at some strangers earning a parental title officially before he does. That's truly absurd in the grand scheme of things, but one can't help where one's mind goes, when faced with such an intense flood of life-altering lore drops. He's her family. He's... still. Her family.

He doesn't miss the softness of Maelle's tone when discussing Alicia. Her... counterpart. So a- a- a Painted... version... of Maelle. His brain is still stuttering a little on the concept. Painted version. Created family. And a version... outside. (Not "real" version. Not... not real. They're all real. It's fine. He's fine.) He commits it to memory: mask, white hair, injury. Someone new, but someone Maelle obviously has come to care for, which means Gustave should deal with her accordingly (that is: with kindness, because when is the last time he heard Maelle talk about anyone in that way outside of their family? Miss "I have no friends", now she's got at least one, maybe).

He's also reminded immediately of Maelle's nightmares back home, and that day she'd spaced out mid-conversation and been apparently visited by Renoir and a mysterious woman in a mask. Not so mysterious now, it seems. But if they're on good terms despite her relation to Renoir, that speaks volumes.

There's a lot he could say, a lot, but he'll work his way through it gradually. First, his priority: ]

Renoir. Is he- are you- that is, I- [He forces himself to stop, exhaling through his nose, his hand clenching and unclenching on his knee as he tries to process a dozen anxious, conflicted emotions and find the words for what he wants - needs, even - to say.] ...Have you been... alright?

[It's weak, insufficient. He doesn't know how he's feeling, he has no idea how she's expected to feel. Is she safe? Has she felt safe, at all? Have they bothered or harassed her, has she had anyone on her side, what can he do, what can he do for her, if any answer to his unasked questions were anything but an unequivocal safe, no, yes. He already tried, with Renoir. He died trying. What can he do.]

[peindre]

[ Maelle anxiously watches his expression as she speaks, careful to proceed when he's between bites and swallows, equally as careful to not unload too much when...it's all too much. She's been able to sit with these revelations over a few months' time, and even then has had struggled to process. Gustave is being laden with the lion's share of it at once after having just come back from the dead. And while her heart aches to spare him this, she knows it'll be worse if one of the others tells him instead.

And they would. Just as they'd burdened her with the truth, regardless of the way it'd crushed her nearly into dust. ]

I've been fine. [ Then, quickly: ] Made some friends too, I'll have you know. People we can trust. [ That isn't what he's asking though, so she sighs faintly and glances past him to the rest of the room as if expecting to see the old man there. ] Renoir's...irritating. Always speaking in riddles. But I think all he cares about is getting his family here so they can live together again.

[ He hasn't attacked her, anyway. And though she'd been furious about his having ejected her from her body during the Wild Hunt, it had (unfortunately for her pride) been for her own good. She would've suffered a brutal death otherwise.

Doesn't mean she has to mention that to Gustave, though. He'd still murdered her guardian and slaughtered most of the 33s. One gesture doesn't erase all of that. ]

I don't think he's got reason to hut you again. [ Maelle admits, voice small. ] He was trying to stop us from...inadvertently destroying the Canvas. Though we're not the only ones he's 'stopped.'

[ Though she doesn't know the details, nor the extent of it. ]

[chronfrere]

[He studies her expression for a long moment, watching for signs of... not lies, Maelle doesn't lie, but hidden truths or secrets. He has a feeling that despite her need to share everything relevant with him, she's still being very cautious with his emotional and mental state. It's a kindness, considering everything she's laid bare at this point (and, in truth, his slowly fraying calm), but he'd prefer if she didn't feel compelled to protect him. That's what he's meant to do, as the adult, as her guardian. It isn't right or fair for her to carry the burden of all these truths alone.

Her answer seems honest enough to quell most of his worries, though, so, he's trusting her.]

...Alright. [Thank goodness. Thank goodness, she's been okay, she's not been alone.] If- if anything happens, if he does anything, I... please, tell me right away.

[He doesn't know if he can protect her in a way that matters, if that man chose to harm her. It pains and grates at him that this is the case, that history (mere hours ago at most) proved it true. But whatever happens, no matter what happens, he doesn't want her to have to deal with it on her own. Maybe he can't kill Renoir, maybe any threats for her sake thrown the man's way will be toothless. But surely he can support her in whatever way she might need. He'll stand in between them over and over, endlessly, again, if need be. Dying was wretched but he'd face that fear again in a heartbeat for Maelle.

...Really would rather not, though, yeah.]

[peindre]

Okay. [ What else can she say? He's here now, and they're a team. Of course she'll share everything with him, including the dangers. They're family, but they're also fellow Expeditioners. And if a threat is causing trouble...

Plate still largely forgotten, Maelle shifts so she can sit side-by-side with Gustave. Though her instinct is to lean in against his good arm, to feel that pressure and let it drive home that he's really here and she isn't alone anymore, she resists. If only to make sure he's properly able to eat and drink, and maybe to drift off, too, if they're lucky. ]

I know this is all...a lot. [ Laughably gross understatement. ] But...I'm so glad you're here. I never thought-...

[ That she'd see him again, of course. And yet here he is, alive. So maybe she does lean against him a little; she can't really help it. Her heart presses against her ribs as if threatening to escape, finally, finally home again. ]

Once you've rested a bit, we can figure out where you're staying. They've got dormitories, and you may have a roommate, but there'll be a bed where you can get some actual sleep. [ Not even on the ground! ]

[chronfrere]

[There's no mistaking where her trailed-off sentence was going, and rather than addressing it directly, he leans in a bit to bump his shoulder meaningfully against hers. Her close proximity and the contact helps a great deal, as does, it seems, being on the floor. Both are grounding, literal and figurative. He's grateful he's here, too, and that she's here, and that they can both be together again. Alive. Even with... everything she'd revealed, the horrors and the mess of what needs to be dealt with back home, this fresh new existential crisis he gets to wrestle for the next however-long. He's grateful to be alive.

It is a lot, but for now he'll agree with the more important part: ] Me too. [Short and simple, but his tone and the way he looks at her speaks volumes. Affectionate, doting, still so very proud. She's done so well on her own. And now, she can continue to do well with him at her side. He wants to see her thriving.

Ah, but also: ] A bed. A real bed! No more stones and straw, really? Now that sounds like a dream.

[peindre]

I know. [ The simple, painless subject coaxes out a breathy laugh (and slightly more of her weight presses against his side). ] It's been amazing. No random rocks under my arms now.

[ She still has the nightmares, though. Her roommate does, too, and sleeps with a knife under his pillow because he'd apparently been thrust into a horrible war at about her age. But Maelle doesn't say those things, sweeping them from her mind with one fell swoop. ]

And the kitchen! A real kitchen, too. Alex-...my friend Alexander has been teaching me how to bake. Just a little. Croissants are hard, but I've managed some cookies. A really basic bread. [ There's a pause, then she adds, proudly: ] And it was good. ...Maybe could've used a little more salt, but I think you would've approved.

[ Considering she hadn't been of much use in the kitchen back home beyond eating what was put in front of her (assuming it was something she liked). ]

[chronfrere]

[After everything they spoke of before, everything still unpacked and unprocessed between them, it feels good to hear her laugh. Even a little one is, quite literally, a breath of fresh air, less stifling to go alongside the sillier, less important topic. They've earned a respite from all of that, and he's glad to take it, rather than plunging back into the clustered mess. Lune would scold him, probably. Stay focused, get all of the answers. But she isn't here, and he died. He wants to believe he'll have time to cope.]

Croissants. [He says it with almost a dreamy tone. What an indulgence, he can't remember the last time he had one, let alone made them. It's not as if Lumiere didn't have the ingredients for it, but the increasingly dire food situation made it hard to justify certain luxuries. He tried to be practical more often than not, with Emma stressed enough as it is with running the place.] That all sounds great, I can't wait to try anything you make. And to meet your friends here, I hope.

[He's not going to say aloud how pleased he is that she has friends, and is comfortable enough to say it herself. Considering how she'd left Lumiere behind to go on the expedition in part because, by her own admission, she didn't have anyone, including no friends at all? Yeah, this is a big change. He's excited to witness the life she's built here.]

🎀 with yours?

[peindre]

I know. [ Spoken eagerly, as she latches on to the easy subject, and one that can bring them both so much joy amid all the other, messier bits. ] Don't get your hopes up; I'm still learning. [ ... ] But, yeah. It was good. Maybe I could try pain au chocolat next.

[ Imagine! Then he couldn't hold her hostage (read: make her eat vegetables she doesn't want) with the threat of withholding dessert.

On the subject of her friends, she merely nods, smiling softly. ]

Definitely. They're...interesting, but I think you'll like them. [ Nancy, Caduceus, Alex, Hornet, Melinoë, Sophia, and all the others. It's strange for her, too, remembering exactly how isolated she'd felt (and how isolated she'd kept herself, if she's being fully honest) back home compared to this. It's been nice: meeting others her age, or close to it, and being able to enjoy some semblance of normalcy without the Monolith looming over everything.

No Gommage. ...It occurs to her that the date, if the calendars are at all similar, is approaching. But that's another worry for another day, considering how jam-packed this one has been. ]

You'll see it all. [ Maelle asserts, the fullness of her heart spilling over into her voice. ] I can't wait to show you.

rude i never got this notif lmao 🎀!

[chronfrere]

[The joy and rising excitement in her voice warms him right to the core. Tired and overwhelmed as he is, seeing Maelle happy is energizing. He could listen to talk about her life here for ages, all she's learned and experienced, the people she's met, those who have cared for her in his stead. Who knew that such a simple change, a shift from the constant looming threat of their world to elsewhere, could let her flourish like this?

It isn't all sunshine and roses here, he's sure. There's a lot he doesn't know, a lot he has to learn. But if this is what this world has offered to her, a path to grow and learn and thrive, it can't be all bad, either.

She smiles, showing her enthusiasm so clearly, and he shares it with equal joy.]

Something to look forward to, then. It's... amazing. All of it. I'm lucky you're here to guide me.

[And what a joy it is, to have the chance to look forward to anything. To seeing her experience life away from their doomed existence. Even in light of all they've learned, he's here with her again. He gets to live. He gets to see her do all of those things he'd dreamed she might do somehow, if they won themselves a better future. That's everything.

She leans on him, and he leans on her, and he closes his eyes, just... basking in it, letting it drain some of the stress, exhaustion, and trauma out of his soul. She's healing him. Just by being here, being with him, being herself, healing him.

They'll be okay. They'll get through this, just like always. (Almost. Almost always. But that's not something he's going to deal with today, either.)]