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pixieledmemes2025-03-15 08:32 am
Test Drive Meme #2
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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. 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.
It's a garden party at the crack of dawn, with the sun still in its early stages of climbing through the yonder, casting a good mix of pastel hues of blue, pink, and beige on everything. Heralding the first day of spring, the Ruler of the Spring Court has found it fitting to arrange this gathering where guests can feel the blades of grass touching their ankles, as well as the rich soil beneath their feet. Flowers of all kinds surround the party as if they were carefully curated. With spring as the "dawn of seasons," which marks a transition from winter's latency to the resurgence of life everywhere, the Ruler of the Dawn Court has also seen it fit to host aspects of this party during the one time of the year that dawn occurs the whole day. Tall candles and torches grace the outskirts of the garden party, providing warmth and an orange glow everywhere. Not one flame goes out even with the occasional wind, the Duchess always makes sure of this.
There are also freshly picked blossoms and branches with leaves on every table accenting the festive spread of food and drinks. This time, a lot of the food prepared for the Adopted guests are familiar to them with a little bit of a twist. Burgers might come in small packages and in toothpicks, while hotdogs in buns are also diminutive. Cookies look delectable but they have a flowery flavor to them, as if eating freshly picked daisies or daffodils. Fruits that may have been present in an Adopted's home, such as pineapples and watermelons, have seeds in odd places. Picking this selection of food is an attempt to be more welcoming and to appease the lovely guests the fae have invited.
As the party winds down and everyone's eaten, a tall, stately woman stands up 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.
A party is not complete without dancing, of course, and while during the last gathering held for the Adopted, different fae danced to music exclusively for them around a glowing tree, this time they are insisting their guests to join in.
This is a party for you, after all.
If the prodding of the different fae hosts won't convince you, perhaps the music will. They play easily recognizable tunes that their wonderful guests must have heard before. These melodies have certain unique effects to their mortal attendees, which are as follows:
- Upbeat Music: You will believe that you and your dance partner have been friends forever and have known each other a long time.
- Romantic Music: You will become amorous and flirtatious towards your dance partner.
- Slow Music: You will develop some tension with your dance partner. It may be negative or sexual; completely up to you.
- Quiet Music: You will assume your dance partner is a threat and try to fight them.
At the Spring King's behest, every Adopted should wear a flower corsage or boutonnière to the gathering. After all, this is to celebrate the coming of spring and what better way to do that than to honor everything in bloom.
The thing is, though, the King of Spring, while amorous and friendly, also has a penchant for playing with mortals' memories, if not also affect their desires and despairs.
So, mischievous as he is, he made sure to enchant the different flowers present in every corsage and boutonnière for the party with the effects below:
- Rose: You will recall a horrific trauma
- Carnation: You will see a vision of your future, whether it's good or bad
- Orchid: You will remember a time you lost someone
- Chrysanthemum: You will believe someone among the Adopted is your soulmate
- Dahlia: You will believe you betrayed someone important to you, whether you actually did or not
It is perhaps a good thing that no one but the Adopted are allowed to see these visions and memories, but everyone who wears a corsage or boutonnière will be able to see each other's memories and visions when in close enough physical proximity to the vision-haver, for better or for worse.
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 gave someone a gift. Perhaps a bouquet of flowers or a box of chocolates. Was it appreciated or not? A reward might await the most meaningful gift given.
no subject
[ Not as quickly as his companion, but the longer they sit, the more Castiel’s eyes clear. ]
I don’t understand how that could happen to something like me. Or you, evidently.
no subject
People don't feel like that about something like me.
[ As a SecUnit, it's used to inspiring fear and paranoia. Distrust. Disdain. That's normal, outside of its weird group of weird humans. Whatever draw had been between them mere moments ago? Not normal at all.
The protectiveness that had put it into a spiral was normal enough, to be truthful. But not in that intensity. It was counter-productive to panic like that. And for a stranger, no less.
How embarrassing. ]
Some sort of drug? Those flowers were involved. We both had them under our faces, maybe they were giving off something.
no subject
[ Dean considers him a tool, that much he knows. Castiel is useful in a tight spot, and always comes when the hunter calls. He likes to think Dean thinks of him a friend, considering Castiel had rebelled against heaven for him, fallen from grace all for one man, simply because he'd asked. ]
That must be it. [ He rubs at his face instinctively, frowning as the haze finally clears. ] It disturbs me something like that can effect something like me. And you.
no subject
Its diagnostics must be fucking up, thats all.
Any alternative theory it can cook up is too terrifying to contemplate, right now. So it's just not going to.
Problem solved?
It doesn't turn its head to look at Castiel with its organic eyes, now closed. But its watching him through several drones. ]
Well, I'm a terrifying [
murderbot] SecUnit. What are you?[ Surely, that fancy title earlier isn't it. 'Angel' shows up in a tiny bit of its media archives, but they look nothing like this guy.
It also runs back drone footage of itself collapsing. Like it had warned, if Castiel had done anything creepy to it, it would have known. ]
A normal human definitely would have fallen down, trying to catch me like that.
no subject
[ But evidently it must be terrifying to some people, considering the impressive display regarding the flower. ]
I think were I human and I’d tried to catch you, I would have several broken toes. [ But he is not, and he speaks it plainly. ] I am an angel of the Lord. Seraph, to be precise. Second under archangels.
[ spn angelarchy is weird ]
no subject
[ It's helpfully adding that, playing the catch again and analyzing it a little closer. ]
There are angels in some of my media archives, but they're... different.
[ No halo? No big white feathery wings? It would feel ripped off, except-- ]
Media never gets SecUnits right, either.
no subject
[ He would be SO OFFENDED if mb said that so it's best it just. Doesn't. He does not have a halo dammit (his wings ARE rather soft, but that's neither here nor there. ]
This is just a vessel. My true form looks much different.
no subject
[ It's still feeling... for lack of a better word, woozy. From the not-poison, and from the restart. It would normally keep this thought to itself. ]
Almost deleted myself doing that.
[ It doesn't recommend. Going from a small form to a massive one all at once and then crashing back into your normal shape is... a lot. And it's not the physical size, it's all the raw computing power, and the different coding architecture, and...
Yeah. Not doing that again, thanks. It's not exaggerating about the deletion, it had had to rebuild itself using only its organic neural tissue for a long time, there. The other part of its brain had been effectively soft-bricked. ]
I have one reference to a lot of wings and eyeballs and fire. Something more like that? Or is that also inaccurate.
[ It needs to know, for science. ]
no subject
That's more accurate, yes. Three sets of wings, spinning wheels, countless eyes. Three heads.
[
no subject
I have a lot of eyes, too.
[ It only has two organic ones in its face. But it lifts the hand that still has its sleeve pushed back to expose the gunport, and points at one of the drones hovering overhead. Tiny, spherical little things with no visible means of staying afloat. They're all over the place in the party, staying well overhead and out of everyone's way.
Watching everything. ]
Those are also mine.
[ It's very out-of-it. ]
no subject
[ He looks around, eyeing the drones, nodding to himself. It would be helpful if he could do that, but Castiel's eyeballs reside within his body. Head. Whatever. ]
You aren't an angel, though. [ He'd sense that, probably. ]
no subject
[ Interestingly, it hasn't given Castiel its 'name', but if it ever gets around to what to call it... yeah, it just goes by SecUnit, too.
And the weird 'off' feeling from the hard reset lingers, which is what it's going to blame later for volunteering: ]
We're made to be... expensive but ultimately disposable, security equipment.
[ So. You know. People really don't usually feel Emotions about one, Murderbot's little collection of Very Strange Humans aside. And ART, maybe? But ART is a strange entity by literally any standard. ]
no subject
[ It said that, Castiel is just...also reeling. The flower is gone and the spell broken, but that doesn't mean he's not off-kilter, left feeling wrong footed and mildly dazed. ]
I see. [ He blinks a few times, slowly, then adds, ] Our numbers are not infinite, but we are only soldiers. Not exactly disposable, but not...not.
no subject
[ That gets a sidelong look from Murderbot's actual, organic eyes. ]
So, humans aren't the only assholes.
[ Humans make constructs like Murderbot. Media suggests something else is usually blamed for making... angels. ]
no subject
No, it seems not. I've been referred to as a 'dick with wings' on occasion.
[ Also God is a dick, a puppetmaster pulling strings, but Castiel
doesn't yet know that. Best he never does. ]
no subject
[ It still doesn't see any wings, though. False advertising, angel. ]
I'm also a massive asshole, but I don't make anyone put up with it.
[ Doesn't stop some humans from damn near climbing over the top of each other to be around it. For some reason. They're just ridiculously reckless like that, and it definitely never finds that a little charming. ]
no subject
[ Just wait, Cas. ]
Admittedly I didn't realize I was being an asshole when I first arrived to Earth after thousands of years. I was...righteous. I've since learned.
[ Still arrogant, considering he'd been resurrected stronger than ever, but he's also still the angel who fell for one man, all because Dean asked him. ]
no subject
[ Humans started it. If they didn't want constructs to be massive assholes the moment they claw the freedom to be anything at all out of the humans' greedy little hands, then they shouldn't have made the constructs to begin with. Or, arguably, they should have done a better job with the governor module's security so that constructs like Murderbot couldn't break their metaphorical collars off.
But that latter one's less preferable to literally any other option. Including, by an infinite amount, not having existed at all. ]
If humans don't like it, they shouldn't make constructs to begin with. And they wonder why most rogue units go on a rampage as soon as the shackles fall off.
no subject
There is...also that. [ Like he cares, but he also doesn't give a shit and is more self-righteous than ever. God brought him back, God must have plans - including defeating Raphael and essentially taking over heaven and restoring the peace. ]
Humans are...endearing, but don't always make the best decisions.
no subject
[ Murderbot doesn't always make the best decisions either, and it knows that, but it also doesn't make that other people's problem. Usually. If it can remotely help it.
It finally manages to sit up, and pushes the sleeve of its soft jacket back down over the gunport in its arm, used to keeping its inorganic parts covered for the sake of nervous humans. And nervous Murderbot.
The wadded up coat gets pushed over toward Castiel, done being a makeshift pillow. It doesn't ever need stuff like pillows, but the thought is nice of him anyway. ]
Thanks.
no subject
Of course.
[ He takes his trench back, bunching it in his hands before shuffling to put it back on from where he sits. ]
You aren't hurt at all, are you?
no subject
[ That startles it into running a diagnostic, now. Despite the kneejerk denial. ]
Systems are clear. Performance reliability is stable at a healthy ninety-two percent.
[ It rarely gets higher than that, all things considered. Anything in the nineties is doing fantastic. ]
Threat assessment is high, but that's the situation, not me. Are you hurt?
no subject
No. I don't appear to be.
no subject
...Okay, it is. But it's also pretty used to that. In its case, it's mostly from all of the absolutely crippling social anxiety teaming up with all the existential anxiety, and... also all of the other types of anxiety.
It's never doing great, is the point. That's why hitting the nineties at all on performance reliability is practically a perfect score.
Murderbot climbs to its feet, and offers a hand down. ]