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duplicitymemes2019-01-11 06:40 pm
duplicitymods) wrote in duplicitymemes2019-01-11 06:40 pm
Entry tags:
TDM #4 ( revised )
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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. 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. Oh, and one more thing. It's fucking cold. Better bundle up. |
 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. |
 While the societal climate between Dominants and Submissives remains somewhat neutral throughout Duplicity, there has been the occasional whisper of defiance and call for equality. Yet, demonstrations and visible proof of this unhappiness spreads faster by word of mouth on a day exactly when you need it most. Welcome to Autonomy, a "traveling" nightclub that is never in the same place twice. People wanting to attend only learn of its lucrative location and password hours before it opens for business. Tonight, I choose the third door will get you inside and into the temporary freedom club Autonomy has to offer. In this circle, there are no assigned designations and no consequences for taking a role that isn't the one given by society. So, a Dominant may become the Submissive they've always wanted to be—or vice versa. Dominants and Submissives alike are able to mingle without repercussion and be themselves. Food, drinks, and private areas for more intimate – or if your preference is sexual – encounters are provided. Donations are accepted at any point during the night to further Autonomy's attempts of spreading the fulfillment that comes from being untitled. On the night you choose to visit, Autonomy is holding a random lottery for temporary connections. When entering, you have the choice of submitting your name into this drawing to be paired with someone else in the club regardless of designation. A short while later, a message will pop up on your device with the name and information of your partner, and whether or not you choose to meet them is purely at your discretion. Having more than one connection isn't completely unusual either. |
 Gratification of being a successful Dominant or Submissive isn't necessarily simple. Learning curves are to be made, and mistakes will happen. Led by a Dominant and Submissive couple – Miriam and Victoria, who have been paired for twenty-two years – a monthly meeting for unattached Dominants and Submissives is held in the conference room of Morning Wood motel in the Down. The meeting starts a few minutes after nine and has no designated end time. The couple introduce themselves and explain the purpose of the meeting: learn the proper method for a new kink and possibly find your perfect partner. The space is intimate and well-stocked with refreshments. To begin, Victoria, while blindfolded, balances on her hands and knees with her back perfectly level. Her partner, when ready, places various items on the level surface–a full cup, a plate. The Submissive is meant to hold the items until the Dominant believes she's reached her limit. The exercise is one of trust and understanding. The demonstration is a short one, followed by Miriam removing the blindfold and soothing her Submissive. The words are whispered low and with care, clearly a method that is specific to this couple. The process is concluded with the pair handing out workups, videos, and answering questions. Anyone wishing to practice Purposeful Submission can do so in the open room with a random volunteer, aided by the couple, or can find someone to take to one of the rented rooms. Sex may follow any scene but is not necessarily included. Experimenting with unattached Dominants and Submissives allows for new relationships to form. |
Please read carefully. On each Test Drive Meme, there will be a section noting character roles based on birthdays; these will vary each TDM. On an IC level, character 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 chose "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. All characters who have blue eyes or one blue eye and another color are Submissives. All characters who have brown eyes or one brown eye and another color are Dominants. Characters with any other color eyes are Dominants. To use this TDM as a door pass please link this on your app and place whether it is Dominant or Submissive. Please remember to mark any necessary content, and have fun!! |
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[ He sing-songs it, slipping along the sidewalk like moonlight over water, ducking a tight right-turn down a narrow alley that dripped with moisture and was rank of mold. Two men smoking in the recess of a doorway looked up at their passage... and then down again, to their own murmured conversation.
Asra ignored them. He'd been right about one thing: it was indeed within stumbling distance of the hotel where new Submissives were being kept. Past a few flickering or dead streetlamps, a ramshackle building with a crumbling facade covered in layers of poorly-executed tagging and spraypaint art. The name, 'Smog Cutter' had been fashioned out of rusted car and motorcycle parts, hung like an ominous machine over the heavy, windowless door. The one window not boarded up had a blinking neon light which advertised only, 'cold beer'.
Asra was so distractingly a fish out of water in such a setting that he seemed almost luminously bright against the darkness, and the glow of the neon cast lurid tones over his skin as he knocked on the door. A few bolts slid aside on the door's other end, and the door was cast open by a lean, weasel-faced man with short, greasy black hair and black tattoos crawling up his neck, cleaning out a glass with an off-color rag. The bartender.
'Two usuals?' he offered with a laugh, pausing his cleaning of the glass to throw an arm around Asra, waving the two in... shooting a curious look at Julian, looking him up-and-down as if trying to place him in his memories.
All the other patrons-- and there weren't many-- had echoes of the same tattoos as the bartender, black designs crawling up their necks. One brawny man in a denim jacket leaned back to wolf-whistle appreciatively at the trio as they passed. Asra only laughed, and slipped up to the bar which the bartender stepped behind, hopping onto a stool too tall for his height, and patting the one beside him. ]
That's right, two usuals! But... mm, put some ice in mine. Julian, this is Getty, Getty-- Julian.
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That last part, at least, he's sure he knows the answer to.
His lips finally part around an answer just as they draw up to their destination, the building so near dereliction that it probably ought to have been condemned and the truth is that it's perfect, exactly what he needs tonight. And Asra's bright lithe form is slipping into the building before he's had a chance to grasp the words he's looking for and so he follows him inside, smiles wide but vague at the bartender, at the whistling man as they pass by (he looks big and somewhat dangerous, and Julian makes a mental note of that, for later), and he supposes that Asra's answer will just have to wait.
Asra hops with mesmerising fluid grace onto the tall stool, and Julian slides onto the one beside him, a better match for his far longer form.]
A pleasure.
[Another flash of his winning smile and after the introduction is made he'll wait for the bartender to busy himself with the 'two usuals', whatever they might contain. He turns back to his companion then, though his eye doesn't quite meet the magician's gaze.]
How would you want me to spoil you?
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And then about twelve others, dashing each liquor in turn into two tall glasses. At the question, Asra blinked up at Julian, and smiled, shrugging, ]
Make us dinner.
[ Said without a blink of hesitation, and with such conviction that it's clear Asra at least has thought about it more than once. He set his chin on the curve of his palm, feet swinging idly. ]
Or tea, if it's a small spoiling. It's... between you and me?
I drink it so much partly because it reminds me of my mother. What I can remember of her, anyway. But sometimes when it's an off-day, the memories all come up in a bad way and I just... can't.
Even when I know I want the taste and I'll feel better if I do it, my hands just... shake. Shake so hard, with my ears still full of the sound of her screaming when she was taken.
So... it's always special, when someone does it for me, and especially when they know how I like it.
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But then Asra does start talking, and what he asks for is...so small and simple that he wonders at it. Make him dinner, or tea. No grand gesture required, no elaborate over-extension of the self. Just that small thing which Julian realises with a pang that he's certainly never done, not even the tea, and he had at least realised it to be something Asra likes.
The revelation comes next, and Julian watches the magician with an expression made unreadable by his own mixed emotions-- it's just not very Asra, to come out with something so open and honest and frank, with something that runs deep, or seems to. And the usual urges are there in him, to do something big and dramatic like sweep from his stool and engulf Asra in an embrace, tell him he's prepared to do all kinds of things - anything at all - to spare him from that kind of hurt again, despite all the hurt he still feels over the way things had played out between them but--
--but. That isn't what he's asking for. Very slowly, Julian reaches out a hand, fingertips brushing ghost-like across the back of Asra's knuckles before dropping away again, uncertain of where he stands, what he should and shouldn't do, how familiar he ought to be. He takes a breath.]
I, um, consider it as good as done. Just as soon as I have the means to do it. Or if you're, you know, having one of those days then uh, just send me one of those messages, on that device-thingy. I'll come over and make it.
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Now who's getting spoiled...?
[ His smile twitches wider, and he turns to Julian, poised to say more, lips parting after a furtive brush of his tongue wet them-- but then the bartender is pushing forward two tall highball glasses to each of them, and then delicately setting miniature fold-out umbrellas atop each, nestled along the neon-colored plastic straws already pressed in and held in place with modest amounts of crushed ice. The drink itself looks like a magician's potion, cerulean-blue along the bottom fading up into sunset-pinks and oranges at the top. 'Two usuals' the bartender said with a laugh, as if he enjoyed the absurdity of it as much as Asra. They traded winks and a gesture so fast that it was quick to miss, or mistake for something else; two fingers touching the bottom end of the lines on their throats.
Asra wasted no time pulling his forward, and laughed, picking up the paper umbrella, ]
Look, mine has lotus flowers on it! What sort of flower does yours have?
[ He popped it back into the drink and sucked a shallow sip through the pink straw. ]
Alright, a game! I'll explain the rules, and then we'll place bets-- if you're still in?
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--the bartender arrives, slides their drinks towards them, fusses with all the little extras and Julian lifts his to the smokey light in dubious appreciation. It does appear almost like a magical potion, like no drink he has encountered before and whilst he's not too sure what to make of it, he intends to drink it anyway. Only out of the corner of his one visible eye does he see it, the liquid winks, the touch of fingers to throats but what he ought to make of it, in this moment, eludes him. Little inside jokes perhaps, or small signifiers of something more, intimacy...or something else.
But that particular moment breaks against the bright music of Asra's laugh, and Julian's eye is drawn to the patterns on the ridiculous delicate little umbrella.]
It's uh...I'm not sure, actually. If it's something not used in medicine then I'm afraid I'm not much use. Here...
[And he plucks it from his drink between two long and slender fingers, holds it out for Asra to see for himself, even as the magician's question comes.]
And naturally, I'm still in. I like a good bet, now and again.
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[ He flicks his tongue to wick a small bead of moisture away from the wooden tip of the umbrella, and twists in his seat, threading the end through a button-hole in Julian's coat, so that the bright patterned paper hung there like a flower. ]
The game is: two truths and a lie. You say two truths and one lie, in whatever order, and the other person has to guess which is the lie. We'll have in front of us what they call here a drunkard's rainbow, a number of shots each with a different liquor.
If the other person guesses correctly, then you drink a shot! If the other person fails to guess correctly, they have to drink. The first to get to the end of the rainbow... or to pass out trying... is the loser!
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[Though one could see him as terribly unlucky, or too lucky for his own good, depending on how one chose to look at it. He's left quietly charmed as Asra tucks the umbrella into one of his coat button-holes, charmed in a way that could easily lead to pensiveness and dwelling (something he is so very good at) were it not for the instructions that follow. Attention diverted, he arches a brow whilst taking a sip of his poisonous-looking beverage, feels the satisfying burn of strong liquor as slides down his throat.]
Hah, that's the stuff. And darling, it sounds as though you want me horribly drunk. If that's the plan then I concur, it's a good one.
[Words followed up by the flashing blade of his smile.]
Who's going first?
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Despite looking like a potion made by a mad magician, the drink balanced a tropical sweetness-- mango and pineapple-- against a stunning amount of layered liquors, blue curacao and rye whiskey tempering what might have been oversweet otherwise into something pleasantly balanced.
Perhaps unsurprisingly, something about spending a season and a half in a place like this had helped him along a transformation into an altogether too-adventurous lush. ]
Ah-ah, not so fast! Bets, remember.
I bet I'll win. Or drink you under the table, whichever comes first.
[ He's got a competitive gleam in his eye and just... sips at his drink again before adding, after a sufficiently dramatic pause, ]
And if I win, I get to dress you however I want for a weekend.
However.
I.
Want.
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But it's not altogether a transformation he dislikes.
And the truth is he had let the betting part side from his mind, eclipsed by the desire for temporary mental obliteration, and with the reminder comes more surprises that leaves him slightly, vaguely flustered. Because there's subtle drama and quiet emphasis and really he has to wonder what exactly Asra has in mind, the kind of thing he'd make him wear if he were given free reign over his wardrobe for two days.
It might have been cause for larger concern, if he didn't think he could win.]
Oh, um, well, that sounds ominous, but--
[And here he smiles again, bright and entirely confident.]
But I doubt you could drink me under the table, I'm practically twice your height, it'd take twice the amount.
[Which he's aware is flawed logic, but.]
More importantly, though, what do I get when I win?
[Because one should begin with the certainty one intends to go on with.]
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He never should have broken into LIES. Never should have kept pushing, kept studying, kept--
He smiled, the expression sly and sharp. ]
It's meant to sound ominous. Maybe I'll find something especially hideous, with an awful... hat or something.
[ That insufferably sly look only deepened, his lashes low, and he leaned to take another looong drink. ]
I told you what I wanted as a prize, now you tell me what you want as a prize. But you probably shouldn't even bother, because I am definitely winning. You might be taller and bigger, but you probably haven't slept well-- did you even get a chance to eat, today?-- and on top of all that you're probably stressed, dehydrated from the cold...
I'm practically playing with a stacked deck.
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And it's still there in his head, besides, just this Ilya, solid and cool as stone. He's trying to be something better than he is, and whilst he's certain that he's doomed to fail and fail again because that's what he does, what he is, he's trying to hold it tight to his chest regardless. Had promised someone he would.
So he breathes out, soft and low.]
Now, that's just sadistic. A hat would flatten my hair, and in my humble opinion I feel as though I pull off the dark and villainous plague doctor look rather well.
[And he takes a sip from his own drink, aware that Asra has a point - multiple points - in his favour. He may be a hack but he's still a doctor, knows well and good that he's hardly in optimal condition. But all that aside he believes himself in with a clear chance. He's played drinking games amongst pirates after all. He's had plenty of practice.]
You have a theoretical advantage, perhaps, but you forget-- I have years of experience in consuming large quantities of alcohol both on an empty stomach and having barely slept a wink. There's still time to back out now if you're feeling intimidated, I won't hold it against you.
[Again the arch of one thick brow, the crooked gleam of his smile.]
And let me see, then. If I win you get to foot my alcohol bill for...well. I suppose one weekend is fair. I'd suggest a week but let's face it, I'd drink you and your um...your dominant into destitution.
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And it's not like you haven't known me to be sadistic before! [ Said with a laugh, and Asra finishes the first drink and pushes it away from himself, and the glitter in his eyes has sharpened to a knifelike glinting, merciless. ]
You know they have... whole scenes for that sort've thing here? Formalized understandings, even... dominance, submission, even some of the elegant end of the darker side of that, as performance art.
But-- yes, I accept that wager. Getty! Will you line the shots up for us while we play? My dear friend here's under the distressingly misguided opinion that I should be intimidated.
[ There's a happily menacing undertone to all the bright statements, and his lashes are low over his eyes when he shoots Julian a look. Just for a beat, a moment. As if he wants to press a heel into the back of Julian's knee to force him down to kneel, one tawny hand fisted in his red hair--
The corners of his smile twitched, deepening the expression, his eyes alight. ]
And don't worry about the finances. My dominant and I... we do well for ourselves.
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Asra's eyes cut like broken glass and Julian shifts beneath their sharp edge, brings one elegant hand to his throat to slide it beneath the collar there, begins unbuttoning his coat. It's hot in here, isn't it? Surely it is.
Briefly, vaguely, he wonders if he's dreamed all this up.
Low lashes and dark looks have the pearly glint of Julian's teeth finding the flesh of his lower lip, and he moves to down the remnants of his drink in one deep pull, to give himself one moment to steady himself.
Does it work? Not really.
Belatedly, then--]
I ah, I can do intimidating.
[For about five minutes, perhaps, when free from questioning or duress or the silent promise of humiliation and pain.
He turns away from Asra's radiant face, unsteadied, calls to the bartender over his shoulder instead.]
He's being entirely unfair, Getty. I can drink along with the best of them.
[The last of what Asra says, he chooses to ignore.]
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Oh sugar, don't I know it! Moonshine over there's all tricks, top to bottom, wouldn't know fair if it bit him right on the ass.
[ It only made Asra huff in a display of disappointment, setting his chin between his hands and leaning across the bar. ]
Hey, you're my friend, you shouldn't be consorting with my opponent! You should-- be neutral, at the very least.
[ Getty winked, gathering one set of shots between the long, knuckly fingers of both hands and shifting them before Julian... and the next set in front of Asra. ]
I'll referree your little duels but I reserve the right to shit-talk you both while you do it.
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[The triumphant exclamation comes as Getty begins to lay out the drinks before him in an alarmingly colourful array, and he throws the bartender a winning smile before swiveling back towards Asra again, one hand extended, slim finger pointed at the magician's chest.]
Your friend over there has your number. You never know quite where you are with magical types.
[But he says it with another of his jaunty grins, all tease.]
Don't even think about cheating. I'll notice, I can be slippery myself.
[Never mind that he knows Asra could tie him up in knots (hah...ha...) if he wanted to.]
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[ An airy, weightless threat from Asra, while he's laughing, fingertips prodding the glasses before himself to settle them into an orderly marching line, smile broad. ]
Getty was one of the first friends I made here. Showed me... about how a lot of the more bizarre things work, even lended me a kettle so I could make tea.
[ Getty tossed his greasy black forelock out of his eyes and harumphed, muttering, 'yeah, and you put flower stickers on it! flowers.' It had the rub of the familiar, play-grousing of old friends.
Asra only smiled brighter at him, blew a kiss, and then swiveled in his seat to face Julian a little better. ]
Okay, okay. Two truths and a lie. You want me to go first?
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You know, Getty, he was not very understanding when he discovered I'd borrowed his book and made a few ah, notes and things. Improvements, you know. In the margins. So don't let him get away with the flower stickers too easily.
[He says it over his shoulder before turning back towards Asra and the bright line of drinks now decorating the bar immediately in front of them. Switches out his indignant expression for a raised brow, a high-curving smile.]
And yes, you go first. Show me how it's done.
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They was important notes, why did you just use your own parchment, and the side of your hand smeared ink-- [ And then he cast his voice lower, lifting the same hand as if to shield their conversation from Getty, ] -- and he LIKES the flowers, don't let him convince you otherwise--
[ Getty interrupted the conversation before it could go any further by loudly clearing his throat and slapping a hand on the bartop, ]
Round one! Nothing below the belt, I want a clean game. Lookin' at you, Asra.
[ It only made the magician laugh, and he hummed in thought for just a moment before spreading the fingers of both hands. ]
Alright! Here goes:
I once got reprimanded by a magical kettle; My hair used to be dark like my father's but turned white in a failed spell when I was still starting out; Aaaand... when I was a kid, I would catch a lot of crabs on the beach but not let anyone take or cook them because I was convinced they were my friends.
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And so he listens with intent as Asra reels off his turn, brows furrowed in concentration, and it reminds him again that there are still so many things about Asra that he doesn't know. Whether that's through his own selfish negligence or Asra's enigmatic disposition (or the anger he felt towards him, the bitterness over his failures), he isn't sure. And dwelling on it won't help him now, either, so--]
Well, that thing about the magical kettle sounds so ridiculous that it almost seems like you want me to choose it. But kettles can't talk, not even magic could do that, surely.
[He runs a hand back through his auburn curls, shakes his head a moment later when they bounce back over his face again. Difficult. They thing about his hair also sounds suspect to him, but ultimately--]
Look, I refuse to believe that kettle thing could be true. Let's go with that.
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I guess you really can't help being wrong all the time!
[ That's where he breaks, right there, laughing and touching two fingertips to the rim of a shot in Julian's row to slide it toward the taller man. ]
Drink up, doctor! Kettles like that do exist; my parents had one. It yelled at me after I... yelled at it to boil faster.
My mother had the same hair color I do, by the way; but long, and straight, like... like moonlight stretched along a perfectly-still lake.
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I should have known, you put that one in there to throw me off. You knew I wouldn't believe it.
[And it comes with that snippet of information, something he hadn't known before, some small part of Asra's past that he'd never thought to ask after. He folds it away inside of himself now though, won't forget it.]
I knew I should have said the hair.
[Though there's no point lamenting it now, is there? A little theatrical sigh, and then he's knocking back his shot with one quick and practiced movement, winces only slightly at the strength of the liquor as he swallows it down, feels it warming him from the inside out.]
So does that make it my turn? Or do you go again, because I uh, messed up a bit.
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[ He winked and laughed, drummed his tawny fingertips on the bartop, clearly delighted, and then waved to indicate Julian. ]
It's your turn! We always trade, no matter who wins a round. Equal opportunity, that way. Go ahead, give me your best!
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All right, all right, let me see...
[And he taps his fingers against the bar in rhythmic order as he thinks it through, mutters quietly to himself, clearly trying hard.]
I once got stranded on a desert island for three days with nothing but coconuts and warm beer for sustenance until a passing ship was good enough to rescue me. In Prakra I was kicked off my medical studies for seducing my mentor's wife, and when we were children sometimes Pasha used to put a sheet over her head and dress up as a ghost to try and frighten me.
There you are, then. Have at it.
[And he leans back with a grin to await the magician's response.]
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One game, half-hidden, beneath another.
His hand fell still, but it was a pregnant pause, expecting Julian to pick up where he'd left off, and he hummed thoughtfully. ]
I don't see you as the sort of man who'd seduce your mentor's wife. You're too... sweet, to knowingly be a homewrecker. Unless it was an unhappy marriage, maybe.
Or you didn't know she was his wife! Oh, that's just the sort of problematic situation you'd get tangled into, isn't it?
Stranded on a desert island, I believe offhand. That... seems like something you'd somehow do. Go ashore with some men, get distracted looking at something, miss the call to leave? Hmmm... [ He tapped his fingers on his chin, eyes squinting as he looked at Julian, as if trying to assess him. ]
Pasha with a sheet over her head is also something I believe. She's tricky, seems like she'd have an appreciation for a good prank, and especially a prank over you. And she loves your attention, she'd do anything to get it...
I'm going to go with the wife! It's the only one that seems least likely of the three..? That's the lie!
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