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duplicitymemes2020-05-12 10:04 pm
duplicitymods) wrote in duplicitymemes2020-05-12 10:04 pm
Entry tags:
TDM #12
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It's discouraging to think how many people are shocked by honesty and how few by deceit. Yet, solace is found in the lies we tell each other, comforted by the peace of knowing that we're not alone in our depravity, and once on this path, sin itself becomes the lesser of two evils masked in a cloud of normalcy. This is how Duplicity has functioned since the beginning. The divide of power and social standing is overt in that Dominants influence the decisions made both publicly and privately while Submissives cater to the rules presented to them. It is the way of Duplicity to assign random designations at birth with no leeway in altering what has been given. Climate in the Up is far stricter than that of the Down; violating outlined personas for a Dominant or Submissive while in full view of others is punished by degree of infraction. In the Down, many tend to turn a blind eye to these sorts of offenses. To counteract the discovery of the Deceit Gene – a natural "negative" response to all stimuli – the L.I.E.S. program was founded. The program had been designed to introduce new subjects to the current environment and test for the Deceit Gene through immersion in Duplicity's standing society. Sexual impulses and encounters increase the chances of detecting the gene within these individuals. Participants are typically released from L.I.E.S. after a year; however, results have remained unsatisfactory and testing still continues. ... and you’re here! Finally! Welcome to Duplicity. After choosing a door and stepping through to the other side, the first thing that greets you are the enthusiastic faces of people in medical scrubs and pristine lab coats. Their enthusiasm translates to eagerness as they strip you of your clothes to perform a thorough examination—you will be healed, bathed, and given a paper gown to wear until your items can be processed and delivered to your residence later in the evening. You are also given a device that accesses the network as well as the time and location of orientation. If you enter Duplicity into the Up, congratulations! You’re a Dominant, which means you are immediately picked up by a limo after processing and taken to your highrise. Here, it is two Dominants per floor with separate apartments. If you enter Duplicity into the Down, congratulations! You’re a Submissive, which means you are directed towards public transportation with the address of the motel you’ll be living in. Here, it is two Submissives per room with a shared common space for all rooms. Enjoy your free time until orientation! Participation is mandatory by all new and old arrivals. The weather is a windy 69 degrees. |
 It's time for the monthly Duplicity train tour. Seats are in pairs and randomly assigned to Dominants and Submissives alike. Traveling from Fiddler's Square, the train journeys through various parts of the Up, showcasing society and examples of lifestyle. Along the way, frequent stops are made; a variety of passengers can be seen exiting and entering the doors. A Dominant with a kneeling Submissive takes a seat near the front of the train at one stop. A small group of Submissives board and sit closer to the LIERS at another, all seemingly content in their roles. As the tour continues through the Up, the train passes close to the Market and White Wall Bridge and zips by North Park before heading into the Down and bypassing Red Wall Bridge and South Park. The train makes a "final" stop at Riddler's Square, where inhabitants of the Down are instructed to return to their temporary housing. Those who live in the Up are permitted to stay on the train and revisit the same locations while returning. CAUTION On the second day that new arrivals have been in the city, the train will derail due to a malfunction in the computer systems. Anyone on board at the time, Noon, could be injured, stuck, or killed. Emergency services will light up asking for immediate assistance. |
 Two of Duplicity’s largest film production companies are out to recruit new, exciting talent. With the warring success of Subliminal, Sublingual, Sublime and You Scratch My Back, I Claw Yours, they have the influence and the funds to go big. They have reached out to the LIEs program for help with the idea that inclusion in local culture will make incoming LIErs more compliant, not to mention bring fresh blood into the industry. Orientation is just a little different this month. Welcome to the casting couch, LIErs and those unlucky graduates of the program mistakenly sent notice of mandatory attendance, or else… Not everyone has what it takes to be a star. Both Domination Station Films and Studio Hott are in need of plenty of extras to fill in the background of their newest productions. After an initial sorting in the lobby of the newly refurbished Orientation center, some newcomers, LIErs, and graduates are hustled into a quick and dirty costume fitting. The costumes aren’t as nice or detailed as those for potential stars and may be safety pinned in awkward places. Makeup is cheap and sometimes gaudy. It gets the job done. You may not have a speaking role. It doesn’t mean you’re any less important, so get comfy on the furniture or in the pool and get busy promoting the Dominant/submissive culture that drives Duplicity’s society. Unsure of how to act? Better listen closely to the director. There are shock collars and bracelets to “encourage” the unwilling, and the camera will keep rolling until the scene is right. Scenes may be sexually explicit or merely instructive, such as proper seating and kneeling, feeding and serving of Dominants, and keeping a respectful distance in walking. Extras fill any and all roles required by the director for that realistic setting feel. If you are a Dominant extra, be sure to claim elevated seating and show a firm hand toward any submissives cast as your partner. If you’re submissive, it’s the ground or floor for you, depending on where the scene is set. Be attentive to your Dominant’s needs. It’s OK to talk, as long as you keep it down. Anything you say will be taken out in post. Craft services has just what it takes to set the mood. Stop by for a drink or snack. Soon enough those pesky inhibitions will be a thing of the past. (Some, but not all, of the food and drink contains mid to high level aphro effects. The film companies are taking no chances. The scene doesn’t call for intimacy? Good luck keeping your hands to yourself. You may be in for a shocking experience. Repeatedly.) |
 You’ve caught the eye of the studio. You’re ushered into a small room to wait your turn. Whether you’re new to the city or not, you find yourself paired with someone for a screen test. Do they want you for Hungry Hearts or It’s in the Pizza? Read your lines convincingly, make some chemistry with your partner, and you could see your name and other things in lights very soon. Don’t worry if the dialog is cheesy. It’s part of the charm. Having trouble getting into your part? There are costumes hanging on a rack. Try one on. You may find the experience transformative, as though you were made for your role, or it was made for you… (Costumes may or may not affect the personality of the wearer. Those that do will make it much easier to get into character and greatly lower inhibitions when it comes to the more demanding scenes.) Be aware that any sexually explicit scenes will only be filmed between a Dom and a sub, or a Dom and multiple subs. If you are a Dom cast in the scene with another Dom, it will be gen only. (We’re assuming you’ve seen a porn or two, or at least a parody. Go crazy on the cheesy dialog and stupid set-ups. It’s just pretend, right?) |
 Some people just aren’t meant for film. If you don’t catch the eye of any of the studio reps, you are recruited to work on set building and painting, helping dress extras or potential stars, or providing that extra stimulation to keep them going between scenes. Individuals who complain too much about the circumstance may find themselves assigned to the more unfortunate jobs. Somebody needs to clean up those sets after they’re finished. (Just put your role in your top level if there’s something specific you have in mind you’d like to play out, like “set building” or “fluffer.” We won’t judge.) |
Please read carefully. On each Test Drive Meme, there will be a section noting character roles; these will vary each TDM. On an IC level, characters will still have gone through the doors but assignments OOCly are still randomized. When applying, there is a section of the application that denotes whether the character chooses "left" or "right". When participating on the TDM, there will be a third option. Players may link either a top level or a thread (five or more comments from their character) from the TDM and title the link as "Door Pass". This means that the player is choosing to take the designation that they were randomly assigned on the TDM, rather than taking the designation of a door. If the player decides to select a door rather than use the pass, then they are trying their luck; they may get the same designation they had on the TDM or the opposite. Once the application is submitted, players can't change their choice. To assign roles to characters for this TDM, use the following guide: There's a table with items on it. Your character selects one. If they chose the jar of pickles or ballpoint pen they are a Submissive and if they chose a clothespin or mini baguette they are a Dominant. Please remember to mark any necessary content, and have fun!! |
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His instinct is to tell Oswald. About the drugs, about missing him and taking the hallucination in his place, about the side effects. But Oswald is cool and sharp and he's not sure if Oswald is planning revenge for whatever hurt happened to him in Gotham.
"I'm sleeping more often." He sits himself down at the other end of the dining table (it's really just a four person table) with a pot of tea and a cup that he fills before sipping from. "Eating regular meals. Those things."
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Even with the realisation that he is, in fact, famished, he holds back. Ed is a poor liar, but Riddler? Well. That's another story entirely.
"Baby steps!" he leans forward briefly as he speaks, all smiling and low, throaty chuckles before settling back once more, his fingers on one hand rolling and flexing in slow waves, the pads of each one brushing the one on his thumb with each wave. He's quiet and thoughtful, assessing, weighing the situation and what he does and doesn't know.
It's an awkward kind of silence, a little tense and the type that could easily contain a lunge across the table and a knife coming down at any moment. It doesn't happen though, not right now at least. And after a moment his lips part. He holds it for a moment, hesitating briefly before breaking the silence.
"I confess, I remains... unwilling to truly believe this is real. There is more evidence for me to believe this is some kind of experiment of Indian Hill, or some method of elaborate mental torture from Arkham."
He forces his fingers still.
"What I cannot yet decide is whether this is all in my head, or if it is a false reality that is being forced upon each of us as separate subjects. It is, as I'm sure you can appreciate, quite the conundrum, being unable to trust one's own mind."
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He doesn't mean to, but if anyone understands the pains of not being able to trust your own mind, it's Ed. Especially after recent events.
"I had a bit of a breakdown," he finally says. "Recently. Not eating, not sleeping, taking things to compensate, the hallucinations got- intense." Ed screaming at voices that weren't there, hurling things to silence people long gone.
"Do you want me to eat some first, to prove it's not poisoned?" He nods at the plate in front of Oswald. And it's not an accusation, oddly, just a question.
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"A breakdown..."
The way Ed skips immediately from basically saying he's been self-medicating to deal with extreme mental disturbance to asking Oswald if he wants to vet his food is another one of those whiplash moments. In an instant, he can see several different versions of himself around the table, each responding to Ed differently. There's a cruel, vindictive version of Oswald, barking a harsh laugh and telling Ed it serves him right and doesn't it suck when it feels like you're seeing things. Another version of him feels a kind of deep-seated distress, both for Ed as a person and for the awareness that what he's talking about sounds very much like a response to the environment they're in now.
But the way Ed sort of hops from sharing those details to picking up on Oswald's paranoia with ease brings him back into the moment. It's just... very Ed, isn't it? To the point, matter-of-fact and non-judgemental. He understands. Even here, even now.
Oswald swallows, then shakes his head as he lifts a hand.
"That won't be necessary."
It's enough to convince him to take up the knife and fork and start to dig in.
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He just nods when Oswald actually starts eating, relaxing into his seat a bit more and sipping his tea. He knows it's good, his cooking has actually improved here, with practice and a decent sized kitchen.
He's content to be quiet for now, mostly because Oswald needs to eat and this silence isn't actually heavy, uncomfortable and oppressive. Just a quiet as Oswald eats and Ed enjoys his drink.
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But outside of his need to put on a front for his position now, Oswald can appreciate a good home cooked meal. And what Ed has provided is, indisputably, a good home cooked meal. In fact, if he casts his mind back it has been quite some time since he's been in a position like this--at a personal, home table in a kitchen instead of one that stretches across the full length of a room that he can virtually see his own reflection in from the polished wood. It's been a long time since he's been a space where the scent of the food being prepared lingers in the close air. And it's been a long time since he's sat down to eat in clothes that aren't tailored and buttoned to such precise personal measurements.
It's all so... nice. Which is a pathetic kind of word to ascribe to a quiet moment in a sex city across the table from the man who shot Oswald after he killed his girlfriend, but it is exactly that. It's also very bitter-sweet, the kind of moment that Oswald can imagine waking from at any moment and then cursing himself furiously for his mind having concocted such a humiliating desire.
"I was about to reopen the club."
Of all the things he could break the silence with as he slows into a steadier pace of eating, Oswald's really not sure why that's what comes out of his mouth first, why he wants Ed to know. There are so many other, grander achievements he could fluff up about, but it's this one that comes out. The more humble and arguably most personally complicated.
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"Oswald's? Did you keep the name or go for something new?" Then he stops and thinks about that. "On top of being mayor? And your other activities? That sounds like a lot to take on."
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Swallowing so as not to speak with his mouthful, Oswald reaches for the wine Ed has provided to avoid any direct eyecontact.
"It would have been, yes. However it would appear fate would rather keep me out of office and instead has provided new pastures full of exciting opportunities and previously untapped potential."
It's a very PR kind of response. He pauses to drink, his gaze still averted to the other side of the room.
"I had neglected my true calling and standing in Gotham, I realise that now. So it was only fitting to return to it with fresh eyes and renewed vigour."
Still stalling, definitely.
"The Iceberg Lounge. It was time for a rebrand. Something new. To mark the coming of changing times."
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Whatever happened with us is part of why he's not in office anymore.
"Yes, I got that," Ed hisses into the tea, like it might make him look less insane. "I like the name. Iceberg Lounge. Sounds... sophisticated. Leaning into the monniker a bit more with it?" Penguin, iceberg, all of that.
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He's not sure where he wants to lean more, into the ironic amusement that This Ed doesn't know that he is the inspiration for the name, or sort of sad for exactly the same reason.
"Something like that, yes."
Paused in eating, Oswald's thumb worries the handle of his knife.
"And I say reopen, perhaps that's not entirely accurate. Not in the way you're thinking at least. Once, it had been The Sirens bar. Barbara Kean's place. Not that I need remind you of that."
He leans back into his chair, smiling across the table at Ed without much warmth.
"Still, one thing lead to another, and Barbara vacated the premises. It seemed a shame to let it settle into ruin. It's fine real estate."
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What else can he really say? His last night in Gotham had been in that bar, culminating with him passing out on the stage under the weight of Butch Gilzean's rage. And hand. The hand was an important part, really.
"It is good real estate."
Are you really going to do this? Prattle inanity at one another like strangers? Pretend like you don't want to know and he doesn't want to tell you?
Ed forced a smile, ignoring Riddler.
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"What can I say, something came up! And, well!" he lifts his drink, his head canting sharply to the side, "You know me, chronically incapable of letting a good opportunity pass me by!"
The frozen Ed-elephant gets closer.
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"I missed that smile," he admits. "The real one."
Riddler stays silent. He doesn't dare alert Ed to how they both actually feel. It's far too dangerous now.
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Since their war, Oswald had found it difficult to trust his gut and it had taken him time to return to a place where he could. It had arguably made him more trigger-happy for a time, easier to rile, more dangerous to be around. Any sniff of suspicious behaviour in the crime ranks was dealt with swiftly and if Oswald's paranoia was later proven to be unfounded... Oh well. It sent the right message: don't do anything to even give Oswald Cobblepot the fleeting impression the you weren't entirely in line with him.
But this is a different side to that coin--this is something in his gut that is telling him something is true without a shadow of a doubt. He doesn't need to see the contract. He doesn't need to talk to Victor. He doesn't need to do anything because Ed is an awful liar. And what he as just said is not only entirely in earnest, but it's revealed something about Oswald in that moment.
The real one.
The fear Oswald feels cannot be compared to anything else: nothing is like the terror of being seen, especially not after everything that's happened.
Somewhere, he'd pushed the chair back abruptly and gotten to his feet, backed away from the table and left the unfinished meal with a clatter of cutlery.
Oh no. Oh no.
Anyone would be able to see that Oswald, virtually powered by pure animal-brain, is about to bolt.
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For once, even Riddler's a bit baffled by Oswald's sheer terror. It doesn't make sense, he doesn't know the context for why Ed's comment is so horrifying to Oswald.
"I-"
You dumb fucking freak!
The voice is an echo of a memory, at least not yelled in his ear, just remembered too vividly.
Fucking fairy faggot freak! Why I gotta have you?!
"Oswald," his voice says softly, gently. "Please don't run. I'll leave. You can finish eating in peace."
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No-one has known him like Ed, just like no-one has known Ed like Oswald.
"... this was a mistake," he mutters to himself, one hand cradling the side of his head with his fingers pushed far back into his hair from his temple. "I-I-I... I shouldn't have--"
This is far from what he needs to be right now. It would be much easier to deal with this with rage and fury, spitting threats and glaring down the barrel of a gun, eyes wild and daring. This is the version of Oswald that just doesn't know what to do with his feelings. Or his feet.
"I have to-- I can't--"
He makes a clumsy backward shuffle toward the door, no route in mind or plan of where to go or what to do.
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He could provide himself with both, he knows. But he really doesn't want Oswald doing that, running out and ending up killing people and possibly getting caught in his blind panic.
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Why does his inner voice also sound like Ed now? Ugh!
Bringing his hand down slowly from his head, Oswald draws his fingers into a fist and rests his forehead against the knuckle of his thumb, right upon the bridge of his nose between his closed eyes, trying to clear away the blinding panic that makes him stupid and steady his breathing.
And then, ever so slightly, his shoulders begin to shake, maybe like he's silently crying. After a moment or two though, his laughter can be heard, very quiet, kind of breathy, utterly disbelieving, maybe close enough to a sob after all as he nods rapidly.
no subject
He wants to. He wants to, so badly, just like when Oswald broke down about his mother's murder, like when Oswald pulled him into his arms that last night...
But he doesn't dare.
You always screw things up, Riddler hisses. And I have to fix it.
Ed hugs himself, shaking his head slightly, unwilling to speak out loud and panic Oswald more.
no subject
Bit by bit, Oswald begins to go still and quiet once more. The hand resting against his forehead edges its way down his face slowly until he has his forefinger pressed against his lips. His eyes, unfocused on anything in particular in the room, are open again, watery but processing until he finally moves them back to Ed without turning his head at all.
He can hear his own breathing, still a little shaky and ragged, but he taps the finger against his lips, coming to a decision it would seem.
"... You and I," he says at last, cracked in places and quiet as he pivots his hand at the wrist to point at Ed, a mild tremor still lingering in his body, "Have quite the difficult task ahead of us here, don't we."
It's a rhetorical question, entirely unfair to Ed who has no idea what has transpired and was either smart enough or too stupid to ask.
He takes in a deep, shaky breath before pulling the pointing hand back to briefly rub his palm across his mouth.
"This is all... very complicated, Edward. I know now that you can't truly appreciate the gravity of it all. And maybe you never truly will," he nods again, agreeing with something in his head before lifting his head a little straighter, "But do I believe you now. About what you said about your last memories of our beloved home, now so very far away from us. I believe you."
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They very clearly do have a difficult task ahead. Oswald is sore and prickling from a fight that Ed has never had with him. Whereas Ed had always pictured that, if Oswald were to arrive, he would have his friend back, his confidant, someone from Gotham and someone that was more his than anyone here. Or there.
His head is muddled up. Messy. Confusing. But he knows that everything he had hoped for is not going to happen.
He still doesn't move his body, but he just nods ever so slightly. "Do you- want me to stay over here? Go away?" Ed is more unsure than ever and Riddler is screaming in his ear.
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He takes an uneven step forward, mostly so his hands can curl around the back of the chair he'd leapt from earlier. The volatile energy crackling all around him has settled and he looks like a very small man again in clothes that are a few sizes too big for him.
"Honestly, Ed... I don't know," he says through a small wry smile, "I daresay though that you are probably at far greater risk of harm from me than I from you."
Not entirely true--there's plenty of damage they can do to one another, just one of them has more context to understand it than the other.
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And he's always kept the worst hurts to himself. Buried them with the old name he had.
"I'm going to stay here for now. And you can finish your food and then make a call about what you want to do."
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"That... is very true. You have not."
And it's a plan at least. A simple one which doesn't give any of them answers or solutions just yet, but it is a plan for the immediate moment. Sometimes, that's enough of a start.
Pulling the chair back with a kind of sheepish care that had been missing when he'd stumbled to his feet, Oswald eases his way back into his seat. He doesn't just resume eating though, a little too unsettled and ashamed by his own outburst as he instead takes some time to rather pointlessly re-straighten the knife and fork.
"... Your tea will go cold."
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That was an invitation to go and sit down, moron.
"... or were you saying it's okay if I come back?" He knows he wasn't meant to ask and he doesn't care. He's not willing to misstep again.
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and wrap?