Duplicity Game Mods (![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
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duplicitymemes2022-01-10 07:43 pm
duplicitymods) wrote in duplicitymemes2022-01-10 07:43 pm
Entry tags:
TDM #22
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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. Winter is here and snow flurries are common in the Up while the slush collects in the Down. |
 After stepping through the door and participating in orientation, LIERS are assembled together in the Up for a tour of Duplicity in its entirety. 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. |
 As a particularly heavy snowstorm blows across the city, Duplicity finds itself blanketed in white. The morning after the storm, many citizens seem to be in a particularly mischievous mood and snowballs are a common sight flying through the air. A projectile meant for someone else may hit you square in the face if you're not careful — and then it's on. Joining these impromptu snow battles is encouraged, no matter a person's designation, and even Submissives teaming up to pelt unsuspecting Dominants with snowballs is generally taken in the spirit of good fun. Not everyone is throwing snow, of course — some are rolling much larger balls and shaping them into lewd snow figures. Those feeling chilled after playing in the snow may experience the urge to warm up with someone else, skin to skin. Whether they're a stranger or a familiar face, holding hands, kissing, or getting down and dirty with the nearest willing partner is invigorating. It might even be the only way to really feel warm again. |
 (cw: aphro, humiliation kink) Want to make some quick cash? After exiting the train in the Down, there seems to be a questionable character hanging about the station. Dressed in a trenchcoat and looking more like a flasher than the businessman he claims to be, this shady recruiter offers easy money in exchange for a simple delivery. Just take a package and drop it off at the address on the label. Really, that's it! Stop asking questions. Should characters decide to open the package themselves instead, they'll discover one of the following: glitter — so much glitter, lube (appears normal, but actually contains hot pepper and will cause more than a mild tingling sensation if used anywhere sensitive), a package of flavored condoms mysteriously labeled "every flavor" (none of them taste good), candy or perfume containing an aphrodisiac that, in addition to the usual libido-boosting effect, will also cause an intense craving for humiliation. It seems to be one of those services that allows one to send anonymous prank gifts, and they're hiding behind LIERs as couriers. There's no return address or company information on or inside the package, except for a card marked Encoded Sin Corp — which does not seem to be a real company if the name is searched. Whether characters end up delivering the package — maybe even to a fellow LIER — or get into some trouble along the way, someone is getting a nasty surprise. |
 (cw: aphro, dubcon, excessive fluids, exhibitionism, public use)A small winter market has been set up along one of the major streets in the Up with stalls selling a variety of goods ranging from knitted hats and scarves, soaps, scented lotions, candles, jewelry, artwork and assorted crafts to hand-dyed bondage rope and kinky leather accessories. Food and drink stands are plentiful as well. Strings of lights crisscross the street between the roofs of the shops, providing a cheerful glow, and there are tables set up in the street itself for people to sit and chat while having a snack — if they can stand the cold. Some of the most popular treats being sold are hot chocolate, eggnog, marshmallow snowmen, and sugar cookies decorated like snowflakes. Of course, their popularity may have something to do with the effects they produce when consumed. • The hot chocolate simply gets one all hot and bothered. • The eggnog may cause heavy production of sexual fluids, a desire to be filled or covered with someone else's cream, or all of the above. • The marshmallow snowmen will make those who eat them want to invite others to use them as they please, desiring nothing more than to be molded into the perfect fucktoy. • The sugar cookies seem to induce all sorts of different cravings — after all, no two snowflakes are alike! These effects tend to last at least an hour and may, in some cases, last up to a full day. One of the jewelry shops sells an unusual selection of compass pendants and bracelets. The compass arrows spin round and round lazily while the pieces are on display. Once worn, however, that changes. The arrow will settle on a direction, but instead of pointing north it will lead directly to another person. Perhaps you should speak to them? You may even begin to feel magnetically drawn to them yourself… In the event that two people have compasses that point them at each other, the attraction will be even stronger — nearly impossible to deny. There is another shop which sells intricately designed pocket watches and small clocks. When these timepieces are stared at for an extended length of time or picked up and handled, characters will feel a brief but strong connection to their past and experience a vivid flashback to some moment that was, in whatever way, meaningful for them. After reliving the memory, they will feel compelled to speak about it to whoever is nearby. |
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: If your character likes it hot, they are a Dominant. If your character prefers the cold, they are a Submissive. To Note: Characters can only swap their designation for one of the following reasons: an event occurs that allows it or there are OOC reasons that make it a necessity. Any swap always requires mod approval and each character can only ever switch once. Characters that are being reapped will keep their previous designation but players can choose to use new TDMs with different designations for fun! Test Drive threads can be used as activity proofs for characters currently in-game. Please remember to mark any necessary content, and have fun!! |
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One of those weeks where the city played with all of our minds at once. The person he was when he wasn't himself was sufficiently kind that I decided to discover who he was when in full control of himself. We were able to build trust with one another, in the aftermath.
[Her gaze drifts down to his hands. She's surprised he's made it this long--his self-control is very well-honed.]
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Might not have a choice here, though. Apparently people know if you don't hit the sex quota. And the line on his throat isn't going anywhere. Capitalism's back and kicking strong, so he'll need money. Room to maneuver. This place has infrastructure, enough food that nobody's starving. Seems like the power grid's on the fritz but it's still there, and sustaining a full city.
And there's no hint of the dead anywhere. Makes this place worth considering. If he got here, then his people could join.
They could settle here. Cut out a place for themselves. Defend it.
Sweat runs down the back of his neck. Unpleasant, in the cold air. He pushes his hood back with a hiss, running a hand through his hair. It almost hurts now. He wants -
What he wants is an illusion. A trick to be overcome. He'll hold the line. ]
Played with your minds. Hnng - how?
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But he wasn't cruel about it. Didn't lord over me. If the city pushes at him, he's not going to become someone who abuses our contract or my status. And he's not particularly attracted to me, either.
[Which is fine by her. It's less complicated, knowing if something sours in her contract, she's not risking her quota at the same time.]
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Which means it's probably true.
Shit. ]
Keeps it professional?
[ He's trying to keep it professional. Stop twitching. Maybe if he thinks of it like hypothermia. Like how when you're really fucked up, your brain gets turned around and you want to take your clothes off in a blizzard because your brain thinks you're overheating. But that's just brain chemistry, neurons misfiring. If you know what's happening, you can get through it.
His hands twitch. Again. He curls them into fists. ]
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[She notices the twitching. How he seems to be mostly focusing on controlling his hands. When he breaks--and at this point, she's fairly certain it'll be a when, not an if--he'll probably be out of control, grabbing the nearest person.]
We should get out of public, as much as possible.
['We', not 'you'. She's quietly offering herself up as a target.]
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Now, it's hard to focus. He feels sick more than he feels good - take that, all the porn he's watched before the world ended - and he has the sinking feeling it's just going to get worse. That he's going to lose himself and wake up in an aftermath he doesn't recognize.
He gives Ducky a long look. She's a stranger, pretty much. Not one of his people. Not a soldier at all. She could have lied about everything since they started talking, have a knife she's hidden away that she'll use the moment they're out of the crowd. It's what people do, back home. They tear each other to pieces over scraps. It's what he would have done.
Thing is, his mind keeps stuttering out on the threat assessment. Getting caught on the line of her jaw instead of how she moves her hands. He's focusing on the wrong things. If she went for him now, Carver doesn't think he'd be able to dodge fast enough to land a retaliation.
His jaw works. ]
You should probably fuck off now. I'm losing my mind, a little bit.
[ He's done a lot of awful things in his life, but even in the war there were lines he never crossed. He maintained them in the aftermath. It felt important to have a code when the world ended. He doesn't force people. Never has. Doesn't want to start. And she's there, and it's been years since he's wanted to touch anyone like he wants to touch her now, and that isn't right.
Yeah. He's losing the thread now. Should probably bolt and hole up somewhere. Maybe take a cold shower or three. ]
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[She's not leaving him, not like this, not when it's his first time being aphroed. There's no way he'd make it out of the market without pouncing someone else. She's at least aware of him, and clear-minded enough to give her consent. To forgive any roughness, any desperation.]
And while no one will be surprised if sex happens in public, my preference is not for exhibitionism and public scenes.
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His jaw works. He'd rather not get busy with anyone in public, either. It disturbs him that it's a possibility - that it's common enough knowledge that she's warning him about it. And undercutting that is the thought - twinged with gratitude and, hatefully, humiliation - that he'd rather she did. That he's not facing this entirely on his own.
It's about survival, in the end. It always is.
He tips his head back. Exhales through his teeth. ]
Okay.
[ He'll follow where she leads, for now. ]
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This is spiraling. It was almost comical at the start. Now -
He feels dizzy. Sick with wanting when he shouldn’t. He hasn’t been with anyone in years, can barely remember the last time. Must have been those scavengers over in Lexington. That couple he ran into after he got separated from the group, that couple who’d cornered him and nearly shot him before they decided not to. It was summer, he thinks. They burned sage in their campfire. It made him sneeze but he liked the smell of it, something different. Something other than rot.
He stayed with them for almost a week. They both had him - the woman first, then the man - and then they had him together and the next morning he caught the signal whistle from his people and left, never looked back. Never stole from them or went back to end the threat they posed.
It was high summer then. A strange time, years ago, back when Shaw was missing. When they thought she might be dead, her and -
No. Don’t go there.
It’s hard to focus now. Winter rather than summer and this woman in front of him. Angle, what’s her angle? Everyone’s got an angle. But what does he have, if he doesn’t follow her? No path worth taking.
He keeps his eyes up and he follows without a word. ]
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Right. How would you like to do this? I could get on my knees and suck you off. Or you could just fuck me. I'm fine either way. What do you need?
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He hasn't seen lube since before the world ended. That's novel.
And then Ducky just asks, straight out. Carver stares at her. ]
Jesus christ.
[ This is happening. Or maybe all the concussive head trauma he's taken over the years has finally caught up with him and he's finally lost his marbles. What does he need? How is he supposed to know that? Not like he's some blushing virgin or whatever, but this place has stakes and rules he doesn't understand, and -
He puts his back to the wall. An old instinct. At least someone here seems calm. ]
I'll fuck you.
[ He doesn't sound particularly enthused about the idea, but he doubts he'll have any trouble getting hard. She's pretty, in a severe sort of way, and in a bette moment Carver thinks he'd like the way she holds herself. Before the world ended, he probably would've given it a shot if he'd met her in a bar somewhere. If she's even the type of woman to frequent the dives he used to hang out in back then. But this is happening. It feels insane.
It probably is. ]
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[She recognizes that, the way he puts his back to the wall. It strengthens her assessment of him as a veteran; she'd seen the same instinct in men who'd fought in the Platinum Wars, even years later. Between that and his obvious level of willpower, he's already someone she sees as a good potential ally, once this is over. You know, if he's not the type to get shy and pretend he's never seen her before.
But first, the physical. She shucks her coat and begins unbuttoning her dress. Awfully modest, old-fashioned dress by the local standards. It's grey and plain and high-collared, the sort of thing one might see on a Victorian housemaid. But she's gotten very good at getting it off very quick.]
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He doesn't. He stays where he is, back firmly to the wall, and shakes himself. After a moment, he pulls his hood off. And then his jacket. He's sweating, still. Heart rate elevated, pulse pounding in his throat like a drumbeat.
It's not pleasant.
After a moment, he sets his jacket and hood down. Follows it up with the mask hooked to his belt.
The belt he keeps, though, because his knife's sheathed there and he knows better than to let himself lose track of a weapon - even in a moment like this. Maybe especially in a moment like his.
He watches Ducky all the while. Taking her in. ]
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She's aware of him watching, and returns the favor quietly.]
What are you thinking, Carver?
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Practicalities. He is what he is. He doubts this place will change that. ]
Not thinking much at all.
[ That's the whole problem. It's hard to focus, to remember himself when all he wants to do is go to her. She's small and wiry, much smaller than him, and he's staring at her breasts like an idiot.
Underneath all the layers he wears, Carver's tall and broad-shouldered, built like a boxer. He's had the calories lately to build up some muscle, but starvation takes a toll on a body and there have been bad winters. He survived all of them, but not always gently. He's been shot, stabbed, blown up more than once. The only scars he doesn't have are burns - not a single one.
There's a unit tattoo on his arm, a skull on a black field and Fortitudo Saludis printed bold around it. And a pendant on a long cord he wears in place of dog tags, a sword pinned in an iron circle. ]
You want me to hold you up?
[ He can. He'd like to, he thinks. ]
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Yes. Please.
[She finally steps in close, her hand reaching to touch his too-warm skin. The tattoo, tracing the letters.] 'Fortitude and safety'? Interesting. Perhaps someday, I'll ask you about your war.
[Not now, not today. She's vividly aware that now that she's touching him, his willpower is likely to deteriorate like a piece of tissue paper under a running sink. And that's okay--she'd have walked away sooner, after realizing he was aphroed, if she wasn't braced for everything that's about to follow. It's just a fuck like any fuck you get in Duplicity, no more meaning than you make it have.]
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[ Carver doesn't flinch when she touches him, but it's a close thing. There's no pain - not even close - but it's like a dam breaking. All the intensity cranked up to eleven. He's overly aware of her like this, the press of her fingers against his tattoo, the way she's remained so goddamn calm when he feels like he's about to lose it. How her voice sounds almost conversational. Like she isn't bare ass naked and waiting for him to stop losing his shit and do what they walked in here to do. He doesn't want to talk about the war, anyway.
He takes a ragged breath, one hand curling around her shoulder and the other on the back of her neck. He wants to spin them around and just pin her to the wall, but -
Focus. ]
Condom.
[ He's still present enough to remember that part. ]
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Condom. [With the tone of a nurse handing over a surgical instrument, before she makes eye contact and smirks.]
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He squeezes her shoulder briefly, mouth twitching. Almost a smile. Because what can you do, really? In a situation like this, what can you do?
Survive it, he supposes.
It's been a while since he's put a condom on but it's not that complicated. Thankfully. His fingers are still twitching up a storm. But he's steady when he puts his hands on her sides, and spins her around. Puts her up against the wall so they're eye-level. ]
Put your legs around me.
[ He's twitching. Again. But she's there, and solid against his hands, and she hasn't flinched once. ]
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She's ready for him. Wet already, on anticipation alone, and she has been since she stripped off her dress.]
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He doesn’t walk with strangers anymore. Doesn’t speak with them, doesn’t touch them. Doesn’t want to, most of the time. And he’s not certain he’d want this without the drugs fucking with his mind, but Ducky hooks her ankles around him and smiles, and -
And he hasn’t had that for a very long time. Maybe he would want it after all, in one of those better moments. In this one, he just braces and pushes into her, and she’s wet, fuck, so goddamn wet, and -
The thought stutters out. Carver hisses our a wordless curse and jerks into her, knocking her back against the wall. No further thought for slowing down. No further thoughts at all except moving. ]
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Yes, yes. [The word is panted into his ear quietly, her tone of voice eager.]
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Fuck.
[ He doubts he'll last long, like this. She feels so goddamn good. ]
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