duplicitymemes | TDM #12

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TDM #12

« « « TEST DRIVE MEME » » »

« « « THEY LIED IN EVERY WORD

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.

» » » SUPPRESSION OF GLEE

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.

« « « ASK THE ROAD

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.)

« « « SOME END MIGHT

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?)

« « « NOT FIT TO COPE

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.)

« « « MOD & OOC NOTES

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!!

» » » MAIN NAVIGATION « « «

Flat | Top-Level Comments Only

Honestly, Oswald can't blame Ed for wanting to keep his distance. It makes sense, considering the outburst.

Initially, he gives a bit of a resigned but understanding nod, the tip of his tongue pressing between his dried out lips in a kind of nervous attempt to dampen them.

Then, Ed speaks again and he looks up. Ed, and his genuinely questioning nature.

Oswald swallows before he can even start to think of what to say in response, though he finally settles on his more mask-like smile to disguise whatever complicated feelings he is having as he moves on arm carefully toward Ed's seat.

"If you would be amenable to it, yes."

Oswald is being a bit over-reactive. Even for Oswald.

Ed doesn't blame him. He'd been in a state when he'd arrived, and he's a much cooler temperament than Oswald to begin with. He listens and nods slowly and then comes back over with slow steps and eases himself back down into his chair.

"Do you- more wine?" He gestures the bottle.

He is jumpy. Very jumpy. Too many dangerous, emotional-laden things whirling around his head and no immediate access to the tools necessary to manage them, like needing to take something hot from the grill and not having oven mitts--its going to hurt and make him flail.

The temptation is there to say no, to comment on how if he's in this state while sober then nudging himself toward something that ventures further may not be the best move. But his nerves are jittery and Ed is offering and after a moment of thought he gives a small shrug like his arm has been twisted.

"Why not!"

Awkward, disjointed, a little unnerving. What else could he have expected? Well, he hadn't been expecting any of this at all, in fairness, but now it's here it's a matter of working with what they have.

"I could make you tea or coffee instead if you prefer?" But he's already reaching and pouring, another standard drink volume of wine into the glass, because of course that's how much Ed pours by habit.

"And I'll grab my coat in a moment, hang it up." And then he pauses, looks at Oswald. "... you can keep the switchblade if you want. It was one of the only things from home that I had."

Freezing in place, Oswald briefly looks like he's been caught doing something he knows he shouldn't have, like sneaking cookies before dinner.

Really though, why wouldn't Ed pick up on something like that, to assume that Oswald already has the knife on his person? It's relatively predictable Oswald behaviour, actually.

He ends up chuckling somewhat nervously, reaching across to take the refilled glass.

"When you put it that way, it gives it a sort of sentimentality, doesn't it?"

One of the few things he got from home... Maybe Oswald should be offering it back, but the weight of it in his pocket makes him feel more secure.

The knife was in his pocket. Oswald had his coat.

He would do the same thing.

"I suppose. I acquired a spare one here, just in case. I've had to deter some unmarked from pressing their suit. A switchblade in the nostril usually does the trick." Ed has no real attachment to the knife.

Oswald laughs, his head head bowed a little, subconsciously hiding the fondness that he will deny to himself is so easily accessible even now before looking up again with a smile.

"That it does! Though sometimes, it really is the only acceptable response."

In that regard, Oswald feels less concerned about keeping hold of the knife for the time being, either until he's more settled and better armed himself, or Ed asks for it back. In any case, it's a pretty valuable item to keep on him.

"Plus there's a knife in the cane John gave me, now. I had to refit the whole thing, but I managed a knife and the taser mechanism. Much more practical that a blade for the handle and swinging it by the length. More discreet too."

Ed prefers subtle violence and overt distraction.

"Ever creative and ever resourceful, even in circumstances such as these!"

Sometimes Oswald can be cutting and sarcastic, and sometimes his very genuine remarks sound like factitious mocking. Here, it's certainly the latter and he doesn't really need to think too much about being misunderstood. Ed always gets the difference. Always. Even when they're at odds. Or will be.

His appetite slowly beginning to return, Oswald takes up his knife and fork once more.

"I would say I hope you haven't had and will not have cause to use it, but I fear that is unlikely, from all that you've said thus far."

Later, as he's going back over things, that name--John--is going to come back to him and he may regret not asking more about him at this particular moment.

Ed pauses, hears the difference and decides that however different, Oswald hasn't changed to the point that he can't pick when he's genuine.

"A few times. And it was useful when my knee was dislocated and I actually needed a walking aid." He gestures dismissively. "It was treated, healed up, it's fine now." Caused a brief downward spiral into drug use, but he's mostly over that for now.

"Dislocated?"

Okay, sure, so stepping anywhere in Gotham is basically a constant roll of the dice about whether some kind of injury waiting to happen to anyone at any moment, but that doesn't mean hearing about those instances aren't still surprising to hear about when they do occur.

His eyes flicker reflexively downward, even though he can't actually see either one of Ed's knees where he's sat, what with there being a table in the way and all.

"What happened?"

"Someone from another place, I have no idea where or how, but all these people turned up who were variants of the ones here. He recognised me, called me criminal scum and smacked me around a bit for fun. I reset it, went to the hospital for some painkillers and bandaging and let it heal."

Injury has never disturbed Ed. Oswald had never seen Ed seriously injured (to his knowledge).

The positioning of the two of them now is a little twisted in a few places, like several twists on a rubik's cube so the shape is largely recognisable but the colours are all jumbled. Not that something like that would bother Ed, he'd had it all organised again in no time, but for Oswald he can feel the difference.

He can remember the deep-seated distress seeing the flesh around Ed's neck all bruised pink and purple from Butch's brutish grasp, how anxious it had made him, how despairing. And he can also remember the absolute vindictive glee he felt watching the Court of Owl's guards kick the stuffing out of Ed.

The way Oswald feels interest veers between a brand of visceral concern in the pit of his stomach and a spiking thrill of vindictive pleasure at the mental image of someone kicking Ed to the dirt for cheap laughs and then back again is a kind of rollercoster he hasn't signed up for and isn't sure he wants to stay on. But he's there now and will have to work out what to do with the consistent whiplash experiences being around Ed causes.

He swallows, trying to focus on the content of what Ed is saying rather than the emotions they invoke.

"Variants? As in... Clones? Or mutations like the kind Hugo Strange created?"

Blissfully unaware of the nature of the conflict and only dimly aware that there is conflict, Ed hums and shakes his head. "No and no. More like... alternate reality versions. Like those "What If" comics, a small decision that changes a beloved character into a different form. What If the Bowler's mother had died instead of her father? What if the orphan was raised by their family? That sort of thing. Someone from a Gotham... someone who I don't know from our Gotham, knew an older version of me. And had apparently killed him."

A criminal mastermind terrorist. Ed doesn't really see the point in doing it.

"What do you think of the pie? Is it okay reheated in the oven, not too dry?"

What Ifs on top of What Ifs. It doesn't escape Oswald's notice that Ed isn't naming the person who kicked the shit out of him and it must be for a reason. Whether it's a good reason or a dubious one isn't clear, but what they each don't say is almost always equally as important as what they do.

Oswald had been ready to make a comment on the scenario that Ed has described when the question about the pie presents itself in true Ed non-sequitur fashion. It makes Oswald's face scrunch briefly from the demand to shift mental gears as he finds himself sort of chuckling faintly.

"The pie is..." the impulse to say something spiteful just for the sake of it rises again, just briefly, sort of like muscle memory but it's a fleeting internal feeling that doesn't show on expression because the desire to be truthful and earnest wins out this time as he looks at Ed with a careful, cautious little smile, "Really quite excellent, actually. You always were a good cook, but this is... Really very good indeed."

Ed does his best to not think too much about Tim. He had been very kind to Ed and the betrayal still burns and makes Riddler hiss and spit with frustration. So brushing over it is just easier. Anyway, what Drake did is not on Tim.

He waits and gets the response he hoped for, smiling brightly at the praise. "I've cooked a lot, I've always enjoyed it and after having to eat the food they serve up, us marked people don't get our own kitchens in public housing and have to eat at the cafeteria they provide, so when I got here and could make my own food again..."

And he stress bakes. Which had improved his baking even more. "Victor jokes I'll make him the biggest assassin in Gotham if he keeps eating desserts."

These little details about what life is like in the Down, and for Marked individuals especially, is all painting a very particular image of the city. Ed had said it had shades of similarities to Gotham in it and he can see that in places, though there's plenty more differences to already set them very firmly apart.

Chewing slowly and thoughtfully, Oswald feels the amusement at Ed's latter comment overtake his impulse to switch his mind toward something approximating work. It's an odd image in and of itself, not just Victor and Ed talking at all, but sharing a space like this, joking even. What has taken place in the time Ed has been here, really?

A mixture of the arrival, some very turbulent feelings, some good home cooked food, wine and getting clean all pulls Oswald toward a kind of place he hasn't been or allowed himself to close to for a long time--some kind of deep-bone tired that makes him sink into his seat with subtly sagging shoulders. If Ed were going to try and kill him in that moment, Oswald might just let him.

"Or the biggest assassin in Duplicity, as the case may be," he offers, a little belated though he doesn't entirely seem to notice the delay.

Ed grins and chuckles and toasts Oswald with his teacup. "Or the biggest assassin in Duplicity." He finishes his tea off and regards Oswald, the paleness, the body language.

"Would you like to get some sleep? You can barricade yourself in my room if you like, it's pretty impregnable." Paranoia has a lot to answer for. He's electrified the window frame among other things.

For a brief moment, Oswald sits up straight again, a kind of momentary injection of energy from the suggestion that something about the moment should alter before he sort of wilts again. The greatest enemy of all: exhaustion.

And this is the thing about Edward Nygma--intelligent, skillful, brilliant, Ed with all his dark little corners and shadowy secrets, is also just kind. He always had more capacity for it than Oswald could ever really muster, a true attentiveness to the needs of the bodies of others even if he didn't always line up the emotions exactly right. It was one of the things that brought the two of them together and he it is again not just in his awareness that Oswald needs to rest, but also in taking Oswald's jittery mistrust and trying to work with it, not push it away or against it.

It's probably because he's tired that Oswald feels a little wet at the eyes, just tired and bleary, that's all, as he reaches up quickly to press the balls of his palms against his eyesockets and rub.

"That... very well may be the next stop on our itinerary. Unplanned as it may be."

Can an itinerary even be unplanned? Does it unable to exist if it isn't pre-made? Does that even make sense? The slight crease to Oswald's brow and the way he considers this is probably a strong indicator of where he's at right now.

Ed still had a kindness in him that hadn't been burned out entirely. For all his problems (and they were numerous, dangerous and diagnosable), Ed is not actually inherently cruel and his attentiveness does lend him to picking up when he can fix things. And he loves fixing and solving things, even when 'things' is 'people at less an optimal state'.

"How about, you finish up however much more you want and I'll put down clean sheets on the bed." He stands up (no hint of which knee might have been busted) and busies himself putting away the teapot and rinsing the cup. "Won't be a few minutes. If you finish, just put the plate on the counter, I'll deal with it after."

It's a pretty solid suggestion, one that Oswald doesn't really have the will to protest against or offer any particular counters to. The highest priority task right now, it seems, is to make it through the rest of the pie without passing out right in the middle of it. He doesn't even think that his drowsiness is from any kind of additive because it just makes sense as a response.

He does watch Ed move, the way his stride is every bit as long and smooth as ever, which is both a relief and a curiosity which he doesn't have the focus to think about right now. He thinks he said something affirmative to Ed out loud, confirming that he's understood and will do his part, but it's honestly hard to be entirely sure so instead he just puts his depleted energy supply into eating, and then into draining the wine glass, and then taking both to the kitchen countertop which he briefly uses to brace himself against, palms against the edge, head swung down from the pull of gravity.

Upstairs feels a very long way away and he's not even really sure how long Ed has been gone, though he eventually pushes himself back to stand on his own (already wobbly) two feet and start to make his way up to the first floor again. He's not an especially subtle approach at the best of times, but even less so when he's on the edge between sleep and wakefulness.

Ed gets his bed linen changed and an extra blanket on the bed by the time he hears Oswald. He knows Oswald can feel the cold at times he doesn't want him having to wander to find warmth.

The room is cluttered but tidy. Piles of books and scraps of mechanical pieces, everything in some kind of order that makes sense to Ed's mind. There's a wardrobe and a chest of drawers that are probably full of clothes. A desk with a roller top (locked) and a chair and a bedside table alongside a large, comfortable bed. Ed's tall, he needs the space. There's a bookcase too, with books, knick-knacks and doohickeys.

There's a familiar framed certificate on the wall, Ed's certificate of sanity from Arkham, the one that Oswald gave him. On the bookcase, there's a collection of puzzles, clear, acrylic burr puzzles, wooden ones, and a carefully reassembled puzzle box that Oswald should remember very well.

"If you need anything else, just holler." He indicates the bedside table. "The key to the door is there, if you feel the need for that security." He steps to the side, to let Oswald through. "I hope you sleep well."

There's still so much of this that feels like a dream, like parts of his psyche and slices of memory all slotted into contexts that are supposed to make sense in the moment.

His tired eyes shift around the room in clunky, unsubtle movements, largely from the great effort needed to realign his attention from each small detail to the next. If he were more alert, sharper and more attentive, he'd have a lot more to work with. Instead he has the vaguest sense of a time long passed for him--for both of them--that Ed still seemingly has access to. It's just because he's tired that his chest feels a little tight, that's all it is. That's all.

As he stands just beyond the doorway, Ed slightly behind him at his shoulders, Oswald swallows down that thick feeling in his throat.

"I appreciate this, Ed. I truly do. All of what you have done for me today."

It has to stay in the realm of this day, this moment even if he can help it. To think of even the possibility of something beyond this is just a little too much to handle.

"You're welcome, Oswald." He lays his hand on Oswald's shoulder briefly and then drops it away again. "Get some rest. I'll be downstairs if you need anything."

He wants to hug Oswald, but he's very aware that the man has his switchblade.

He shuts the door quietly behind him and leaves Oswald to his rest.

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TDM #12

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and wrap?