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duplicitymemes2025-07-10 11:44 am
duplicitymods) wrote in duplicitymemes2025-07-10 11:44 am
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TDM #43
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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 LIEs 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 LIEs 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 high-rise. 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. Submissives are provided with a plain black pleather collar to wear and Dominants are given bracelets made of the same black pleather. The simple design is an immediate visual indicator that they have not yet signed a contract and they will be informed that more elaborate or personalized styles are a privilege reserved for those who do. Enjoy your free time until Orientation! Participation is mandatory for all new and past arrivals. The full heat of Summer is in full swing, but there is a pleasant breeze that comes off the sea, bringing with it much needed relief from the warmth of the sun. |
 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. |
 (cw: random kink, behavioral modification) The oppressive heat of summer eases its grip on Duplicity with a cool breeze blowing in from the sea. A soothing wind rushes through the Up and the Down, bringing a blanket of cool that should help chill any hot tempers spiking around the new requirements for local businesses. While wet t-shirt contests and flashy pool parties start to wind down, people find the weather more agreeable and spend more and more time outdoors. Orientation adjusts accordingly, with LIEs deciding to use the weather to their advantage when it seems like people just can't seem to stay indoors for long. The basics of Orientation still happen at the Center, but they decide to incorporate a little outside time and arts and crafts into the mix. Characters will find themselves paired with someone of the opposite designation for a quick but fun bonding activity: kite-building and kite flying. Pairs are given a somewhat unhinged instruction sheet, a set of curated crafting materials, and one hour to build a Compatibility Kite. Most of the materials are basic and typical for simple kite making, but some of them may raise eyebrows: silk fabric, bold red ribbons, black lace… Meanwhile, the instructions for both building and flying the kite are vague, but oddly intimate: Hold tension while knotting., Maintain eye contact and hold your partner steady., Position your body behind your partner for better reach... While the design of the kite is completely up to the participants, LIEs does provide one requirement. Pairs are asked to choose one from several lively colored kite tails to tie to each completed kite. Each one has a single word printed in bold, glimmering text, such as: OBEDIENCE, PRAISE, CONTROL, EDGE, ROPE, PATIENCE, PASSION, SLEEP, CONTRITION, FAITH, SPICE, and more. There's no explanation as to what these mean or how they must be chosen, just that one word should be tied to their project. After an hour, all characters are brought outside, onto a bus, and to Chicanery Beach. Under the watchful eye of LIES staff who keep their distance from the shoreline, everyone gets to let their kites fly! Getting one up into the air is a two-person job, so work together and get it up into the sky without crashing into others. Hopefully it works, because anyone who can't seem to get it up or crash a little too soon will be given strict notice to attend Orientation all over again. Those whose kites successfully sail into the sky will get a check on their names. But as the words on the kite tails unfurl and flutter through the wind, characters will find themselves imbued with the desire and drive to embody or put the trait on their kite into practice: with their partner, or with anyone they may next encounter. This desire lingers past sunset and can last well over a week until one isn't sure if it's an artificial influence or something they'd truly wanted all this time. |
 (cw: pheromones, scents, stalking, dub-con, exhibitionism, breeding kink, stuffing, size kink, sexual exhaustion, rough sex, gags, biting, marking) The winds persist throughout the summer, and they bring more than just the scent of salt and sunscreen through the air. As July makes its way into August, a very subtle change descends on everyone: for an indiscernible reason, everyone's pheromones seem to surge, and everyone will look irresistibly attractive. For those with the senses and skills to pick it up, it will be as if characters exude a different aura entirely, just begging to be bred or fucked. For others who can't tell - it manifests instead as distinct, vaguely familiar and very attractive scents that carry over the wind. Characters will have one or two scents that are most obvious and most irresistible to them. Catching just a whiff of these scents will have them follow their trails all over the Up and the Down until they find who is waiting at the source, someone they will feel the need to throw themselves at. But since people don't know what scent they themselves are giving off, they may not even know why they're being pursued even if they can tell that someone has been following them. Unbeknownst to everyone, certain scents will have specific influences that take effect on either (or both!) person once they finally meet. - Cinnamon: The need to fuck them in front of a mirror or a window, or anywhere that their reflection can be seenActing on the influence at least once will satisfy the need… for a time. The scents can always rile a person up all over again. Maybe a perfume or an artificial scent will mask them, at least for a while, but soon the pheromones will overpower any attempts to hide them. |
 (cw: personality shift, behavior modification, dom/sub behaviors) A new trend makes its way to Duplicity's native shopkeepers and citizens alike in the Up and Down: wind chimes to hang up on their patios, windows, and balconies. The chimes are black and white in design, many of them sporting artful swirls and spirals that clink and ring in the wind. There doesn’t seem to be anything dubious about the chimes upon first glance, but the more one hears them, the more their effects become apparent. While not everyone seems affected, those who are susceptible to the bell-like sounds will find that the larger, lower frequency chimes amplify a person’s worst trait while the smaller, higher frequency wind chimes do the opposite, amplifying an individual’s best personality trait instead. However, unbeknownst to anyone, some of the chimes are dupes (hah) smuggled in from the neighbouring city of Insincerity, the black and white spiral motifs seeming to move and swirl even when they remain still. Their effects are a little different, as they cause Dominants to act subservient and Submissives to act haughty and demanding of their betters. All these effects are short-lived and last no more than an hour. But considering the prevalence of the chimes throughout the city, the potential for erratic personalities is increased tenfold. More alarmingly, it seems that no one is safe from the effects of the twisted contraband chimes. People - LIERs and natives alike - who act out of designation may be approached by LIES or SIN guards with stern warnings or threats of taking them to Realignment at the SLUT Center, and they take any explanation in good faith. |
» » » TLDR
So, what's happening?UP AND AWAY
FOLLOW YOUR NOSE
NOTES ON THE WIND
|
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 the assignments are OOCly 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 prefers grand gestures, they are a Submissive. If your character prefers small surprises, they are a Dominant. 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 tag on 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!! |
wildcard / the orientation building
It has not. Bottles of cold water are being touted as the best option, but water is used for cleaning floors, rinsing chamber pots and taking the occasional bath. Paris water is not suitable for drinking, so Constance avoids the bottles. Boiled water is different, though it is the strangest tea she has ever experienced: hot water from an urn with a tap, a paper cup with no handle, dust in a transparent pouch with a tag hanging from it. Dreadful.
She knows other people are milling around the table, some chatting away while they poison themselves with water. She even looks up from mindlessly lifting her tea bag in and out of her paper cup, a method she has witnessed others doing. She is looking for that little basket of dairy containers, the ones with the label you peeled off to access the milk. Someone laughs and she looks in that direction, her eyes skimming over the people across from her, recognizing none of them.
It finally registers that a man standing beside the coffee urn is staring in her direction. No, staring at her in particular. She decides to meet his gaze, in case he has a question. Perhaps he is searching for the elusive milk basket, too. Constance looks at his bearded face, his black jacket, the top with a v-neck and the odd hat he is wearing. Then the man is coming around the table toward her, his expression intense and strangely... fearful? Her eyes widen. Is he well? Has he mistaken her for someone else? He says her name, in a voice that is familiar. She takes a step back, tea forgotten, but she isn't fast enough. He grabs one of her arms, tightly enough that she thinks it might bruise. Her lips part, ready to tell him to release her. Her free arm tenses, prepared to slap him in a bid for freedom -
His brown eyes are beautiful, expressive. She knows this man. Though she didn't recognize him at first, his eyes, his voice - the rest falls into place, even though in this moment, the differences seem great.]
D'Artagnan...?
[Her voice is barely a whisper, possibly even not audible over the conversations around them.]
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I... yes, it's me.
[God. He can't speak to her as he did last, with that familiarity and warmth, for she's not... her. Shit, he's crying, and though he's usually not one to care, he scrubs at his eyes viciously.]
Forgive me.
[It's a harsh and broken whisper.]
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As soon as he releases his hold on her, she misses it, even though this is not the D'artagnan she knows. In fact, in some ways, this is a stranger. It is a horrifying thought. Constance lifts one hand to cover her mouth in order to curb anything she might say while he tries to compose himself. He is obviously shaken. He has one hand on the wall as if to prevent himself from falling over and he's... he's crying. His voice sounds... lost. Constance wants to reach out to him, tell him everything will be fine. The words stick in her throat because nothing is 'fine' and she doesn't know how to fix anything. Her own eyes are shining with unshed tears now, at a sudden, sharp feeling of being alone again but more because of his distress. If she doesn't keep a tight hold on her own emotions, she knows that she won't be unable to stop herself from crying, too. She must set aside her own turmoil and at least try to fix this. She lowers her hand and when she speaks, her voice is also barely a whisper. If she gives volume to her words, she might lose what little control remains.]
There is... There is nothing to forgive. D'Artagnan... I'm here, I'm right here...
[She is deciding what to say as she says it, her thoughts scrambling to express themselves all at once. She must sift through them, quickly and just long enough, to say something that will curtail any hysteria, on her part, anyway. The last thing they should probably do is collapse together near the tasteless cookies and poisoned, bottled water in the Orientation Centre of a city that is apparently prone to play them like puppets. Did those in control gain power when they see their puppets break? She won't give them the satisfaction. Not here, not now.]
D'Artagnan... listen to me, please... we can do anything together, remember? Survive... survive anything...
[She reaches out with one hand, unable to stop the trembling, and if he lets her, she will do as she did when she encountered Aramis: press her palm against his chest to feel his heartbeat and confirm to both of them, beyond any doubt, that this is real.]
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I know you're here, that's the problem!
[He shakes his head, biting his lip as echoes of words he'd spoken years ago fall from her lips and they sound hollow and distant to his ears. Her hand at his chest shakes minutely, or perhaps it's his own trembling, he can't tell. There's no connotation for him in what she'd intended to assure herself of, and he simply reaches up to curl his fingers over hers and press her hand more firmly to his chest. When he can look into her eyes again, his still wet but with the tears no longer falling, his moment of overwhelm fading, there remains a deep well of grief and anguish. His voice is monotonous again, flat and even, and rasping.]
I've been surviving here for close to two years.
[Without her, without the strong and fiercely independent woman she will become, left in his memories with the remains of the garrison and lingering scent of charred wood and gunpowder.]
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And then, they did.]
I am... I am so sorry you've been... here... as impossible as it... it is...
[Her voice is shaky and she is struggling for control. He is holding her hand and not pushing her away and God, please give her the strength to love him, no matter what transpires today, please... Some tears fall then, tracks of sorrow, heartache, an overwhelming need for things to be better, even if it might be an illusion.]
I'm... still trying to process all this... this stupidity... and I'm... sorry if me being here is a... a problem...
[Don't get angry, stay calm -]
I didn't choose...
[Her free hand gestures sharply at the room around them.]
I didn't choose to be here!
[So much for remaining calm. She closes her eyes and is unable to stop the bubble of pain that comes with the sob. She can't stop the tears any longer. Constance grips his hand more tightly.]
Please... D'Artagnan, please... oh, God...
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I'm not angry with you. I'm angry they —
[His words are cut off, choked in his throat, and he tightens his fingers around hers involuntarily, his muscles twitching as they had before at the refreshment table, only more prominent jerking motions, and prolonged, whatever he's trying to say only leaving his mouth in half syllables and vowel noises, and it ends with a frustrated sound that isn't a quite a growl as he slams his fist into the wall.]
Jus... just c-calm down.
[His focus is wavering as his eyes roll slightly, residual smaller twitches and flexing of his fingers. God, he needs to stop thinking, but his desire for retribution in this is very difficult to tamp down on enough to function.]
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Calm. I'll... I'll be calm. D'Artagnan, what's happening? How can I help? Oh, God, think, think, think...
[She doesn't waste time wiping at her face or wondering if anyone is watching them. She is scared and needs to act, now.]
Down. D'Artagnan, please, just... si-sit down... I'll sit with you...
[Constance starts to crouch down, hoping he will, too. She thinks he might be having a fit and is concerned he might hurt himself.]
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[He's clearly not, but he proclaims it all the same, and he loosens his grip on her hand as if to prove it, control over his fingers. His chest heats with embarrassment, as he's fully aware of the other people around them, but attempts to tune them out and focus on Constance. Settling himself on the floor feels like defeat, but he sits, leaning up against the wall he'd punched, tipping his head back with a dull thud, and motioning for her to sit beside him.]
I am alright, I promise you... I can't explain presently, it won't make sense to you. Consider it an affliction. There's nothing you can do for it.
[His words flow well in opposition to a moment earlier, but he speaks them quickly just in case something sets it off again, his thoughts too jumbled and disturbed upon her arrival.]
It's a shock to see you. I think that understating it.
[Droll and sardonic, the corner of his mouth turns up slightly into a faint crooked smile.]
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I'll take your word for it.
[She has no information regarding the 'fit' she just witnessed, so she let's it go for now. She is working on letting go of this awful, angry mess she became, too. Constance wipes at her cheeks, then wipes her palms on the fabric of her skirt.]
Yes, I feel the same about seeing you, even though I was told you were here. Its still... a shock.
[Constance places her hand on the floor between them, palm up. He can hold her hand, should he feel so inclined.]
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[It's not a question, as no one else would know her, perhaps Ororo if she'd recalled a shared dream months ago. D'Artagnan worries at his lip as Constance wipes her face, and it all settles so awkwardly, where he feels her both someone unknown to him, lost in time, and one so familiar. He takes her hand in his, a solid grip that he hopes is comforting, when he feels so unmoored himself, as he had been when he'd first arrived, at a loss for how to proceed with anything in the wake of this.]
What's um... when was the last you saw me? What was I doing? I know it's years ago, but...
[How far back in those years determines what he might and might not address with her, should he speak of home.]
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[He will know what that is, has probably ridden it often during the two years he has apparently been here, trying to deal with... everything. He does hold her hand and this provides Constance with some comfort and relief. For her, it means that whatever just happened, whatever level of shock they are likely both experiencing, frankly, they are still sitting on the floor, actually communicating.
His question is casual, but it seems important in a way she can't quite figure out. Years ago, he says. She looks at him then, really takes a good look, and wonders just how old he is now. She sighs.]
My, um... My husband attempted to take his own life... and I... I... I haven't seen you in about... two months...
[Her voice trails off. She was speaking quietly, as it isn't a happy memory - and a few people have shuffled a bit closer to them in the last few minutes and it isn't anyone else's business. Constance turns her head to regard the nearest people. Her eyes narrow slightly.]
Thank you for your concern, but we're fine, please go away.
[Her voice is a bit louder as she tries to be polite, but firm. The people in question decide there are more snacks to explore on the tables on the other side of the room.]
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I arrived in this place from seven years after that.
[There's no way to make it less jarring, and with Aramis close to her own time, she might not have expected it.]
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When D'Artagnan says he is from seven years in her future, she turns to him in shock, eyes widen.]
Seven? Seven?
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[It's spoken quietly, a little droll with a not-quite-humorous bent to it, and he shrugs one shoulder slightly. There's not much else he can elaborate on, as he'll not tell her anything of her future, perhaps things about himself or the others, small things. It's a difficult position to be in, holding all of the information and never being able to speak of it.]
You'll find Aramis is closer to you, if you'd not talked of that with him.
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