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duplicitymemes2018-09-12 11:51 am
duplicitymods) wrote in duplicitymemes2018-09-12 11:51 am
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TDM #1
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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. |
 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. For characters with a birthday falling in the months of January to June, their designation will be Dominant. For characters with a birthday falling in the months of July to December, their designation will be Submissive. For characters with an unknown birthday, their designation will be Dominant. Arrival into Duplicity has not been used as a prompt as it is a rather large part of introducing the game and will be saved for the first in-game log. But feel free to thread it on the TDM. Also, any locations throughout Duplicity are available for TDM prompts as well! Please remember to mark any necessary content, and have fun!! |
no subject
Way to make it easy on him.
He snaps an unknotted blindfold like a towel in a locker room, popping Blake rudely on the side with a corner. ]
Here I was thinkin' you were supposed to call me sir, or- I don't know, is it master? First of his name, Lord Commander of the Night's Watch?
[ He rattles off titles around a toothy, lopsided sort of grin. Already clearly way too pleased with the way this whole role situation's turned out. ]
Hell, I'll settle for khaleesi if you're feeling saucy.
no subject
His eyes slide closed and his lips purse and he silently curses himself. God fucking dammit, that figures, doesn't it? Of all the shitty sex classes in all the shitty sex towns in all the shitty sex universes, someone decided to deliver unto him none other than Dean Winchester. And based on that shit-eating grin that he can hear and doesn't need to look to see, not just any Dean Winchester, but his. Perhaps he's got that wrong for this setting, but it remains firmly in place.
Jaw working, eyes opening, a long breath drawing deep, he turns to look at the other man. Still tall, still handsome, still a huge fucking asshole. ]
Careful what you wish for.
[ That's the lesson here. And although he's not sure if it's consolation, commiseration, a threat, or a promise, it's issued with a look that's nothing if not challenging. He's not great at this.
But inside that knot's gone like it was never there to start, replaced quickly with a flutter that feels like it lifts him right off the floor. It's really an astronomical set of circumstances that have crashed them back together again, and all insanity aside, there's nothing about this that doesn't feel like a part of him being repaired, duct taped back together in some ridiculous sense of irony.
Suddenly he doesn't feel quite so opposed to anything. ]
So, which is it?
no subject
They've gotten lucky.
So yeah, yeah he's god damn glad to see Blake - even if it's with the addition of a long submissive line from chin to shirt collar. Robbie's reception, on the other hand, is anything but warm. Matter of fact the guy almost looks pained, and it's enough to draw his brow up knit and offended.
He ignores the question in favor of a rather dry comment. ]
Don't look so happy to see me. No, really, school in the tears, take all the time you need.
[ A flat beat, a vague gesture in Blake's general direction. ]
Come on, man, give me a little Hallmark, would ya?
no subject
But regardless of all that he can see that worries him about this, there are a thousand little reasons he can see why he'd be willing to ignore those reservations.
Despite all of this, there's humor in his approach. He's not making this as uncomfortable as he could (and that's saying a lot alone), and all he seems to want is a little proof of that long-standing bond.
John doesn't hesitate much longer, pulling Dean into a tight hug, his hands curled tight into the fabric of Winchester's clothes, eyes pinched closed, head buried. He'd thought to be absolutely miserable as all of this had started unfolding in front of him, but pressed into the comfort of his best friend - the person who he absolutely trusts with his health and safety and well-being - things don't seem nearly so strange or grim. ]
Christ, Dean, what the hell'd we get ourselves into this time?
[ It's shot through with air, but tinged with relief and some actual, factual emotional output. Uncommon, but not unwarranted. ]
no subject
His chin settles on Blake's shoulder, and he's quiet for a moment to allow Blake some time to process. To bury his face, and to cope with it.
He gets it. It's a lot. Not just- not just this place, but the position he's found himself in, and the life they lead and everything. ]
I know.
[ He mutters, solemn for the first time in this encounter. ]
Space ship's one thing, but this is...
[ God, this is something else, ain't it? He breathes out a slow breath, and only at the bottom of his exhale does he pull back, gripping Blake by the upper arms and leveling him with a look. ]
We'll figure it out, huh? We always do. Besides-
[ A hand comes up to give Blake's chin a little bump with his knuckles. ]
The ink looks good, should've tatt'd you up years ago.
no subject
He'd be lying to say it doesn't bother him, though, made obvious how he reacts by rubbing his fingers over the perfectly straight black line. The tattoo that he doesn't remember getting, signifying something he doesn't consider wholly accurate, used to single him out unless he starts living that turtleneck life (and he's honestly not about that). ]
Real badass, I know. Don't you want your own?
[ John turns to deposit the blindfold back on the table and then returns his gaze back to Winchester. It's a war between wanting to stare and feeling the absolute need to look away. He settles for a mixture, his eyes drifting around to the others gathered for a second before settling back on Dean.
He scratches at his cheek, uncertain, a tad bit nervous, feeling utterly exposed despite literally doing nothing but standing around. He has so much to say, but it feels better not to say it here. ]
Should we get outta here?
[ Not can we but should we because there is an underlying current of concern over the potential penalties either of them might face in not taking this seriously. It's an interminable stay, from what he's heard, but he's not entirely convinced that's the only deal he should be concerned about.
And without showing his entire hand, he is insanely curious to see the side of Dean Winchester that might actually discuss any of this openly, although he'd struggle to admit as much without being directly called out.
Because that would be pretty damn new for them. ]
no subject
Hard pass.
But the thing about it is - not to be hypocritical or anything - but they kind of need to put forth at least a little perfunctory effort for this whole thing, right? ]
Not to get all 1983 on you, pal, but...
[ He starts, pressing his lips together, squaring his jaw, nodding vaguely at the eyes stationed around the room observing the participation - or lack thereof. ]
Depending on how low you want your profile, I think we gotta give it the old college try.
no subject
Like a cornered dog, John watches the whole time in passing, head dipped into a near glare. Bad enough they're captives, but the idea of being sexually realigned for not participating does not sit well with him. Particularly because he's been labeled submissive. He wouldn't like it for anyone else, but he thinks it's fair he particularly doesn't like it for himself.
He crosses his arms, more tightly than usual, and finds he can't even look at the hunter while he talks. ]
I'm not lettin' anyone else tell me what to do.
[ Which is to say, he hates this idea, but if there's anyone he can rely on to elegantly tip-toe around, through, or right by the rules while still trying to do everything humanly possible to protect their delicate sensibilities and manly reputations, it's Dean Winchester.
(Doesn't make it any less bittersweet, but it could be much worse, right?)
This doesn't have to be humiliating, either. But it sure feels like that's a possibility, and that there would be a hell of a learning curve on a gentle, respectable, mutual approach. But then again, he's been surprised before.
He picks his head up, expression tight, eyes dark as they settle on Dean. ]
Fine. [ He's somehow unwavering. ] What now?
[ Please don't make him a table; they can do better than that. ]
no subject
Like it or not, a small sacrifice here means not having to deal with a bigger one down the road. ]
You don't gotta.
[ He's quick to affirm that as well, because while he's not the jealous type (or maybe he is but shut up) he's not about to sit idly by while one of these pompous upscale jackasses tries to stick a leash on Robert Jane Black. Not on Dean's watch. He'll kick an ass and take a name before he asks any questions, he's just- if it's him it's not so bad, right?
His lips purse empathetically, and he gives a little apologetic jerk of his head at the question. But he'll roll with it like he's supposed to, and he curls his fingers around that white bandana Blake seemed so keen to play with. ]
I don't know, what're you feeling? Wardrobe? Pull-out sofa bed? We could spice it up and do a little kinky standing lamp, I'm sure they got shades lyin' around behind the dildos and spreader bars.
no subject
Uhm—
[ His voice disappears into a ghostly noise and Blake wipes a hand down his face. He needs to look at this another way, doesn't he? To rewrite his perspective. Could he call it chivalrous of Dean to step in? Could he call him earnest? It can count, but as John reaches out to tentatively grasp the other end of the blindfold, he worries how easily he could (and historically has) misinterpreted things.
Communication is the key, right?
(Oh, god, he can't believe they're actually doing this.)
Swallowing down a the anguish he feels in anticipation of even one misstep, John clears his throat and barrels ahead, his abandon maybe more halting than reckless. ]
So I make like a table an' we leaf. [ ... ] Table, leaf— [ Get it? ]
no subject
First of all, that was terrible, okay, and you should feel terrible.
[ He says bluntly, leveling Blake with a hitched eyebrows, wrinkled forehead look. He's unconvinced of your levity by way of pun, buddy, but nice try. ]
Come on. Relax. I've got this, just do what I say and we'll manage.
[ Natural Born Dominant: Dean Winchester. Look at him go. He uses that grip to tug Blake forth, to pull him into Dean's side and throw that arm around his shoulder. With it, he leads the pair of to a more or less unoccupied corner of the room where only a plush floor mat and a chair sit, waiting to be occupied. His free hand, the one not currently slung around Blake's shoulders, snakes forth to rob him of the blindfold again, and as soon as Blake's feet are at the base of the mat he lets go.
Cheerfully orders: ]
Square up, buttercup. Make like Ikea.
no subject
Dropping to the mat, John pins his eyes down on his splayed fingers. It's not an unfamiliar sight for a number of reasons, but instead of focusing on the first thing that comes to mind — being taken from behind — he instead focuses on what he thinks it takes to actually square up. He can do this — they> can do this.
And since he's done yoga before - plenty of yoga, so much yoga, he doesn't need much help imagining it. He knows the position: Bharmanasana - Table Top Pose. Hands and knees shoulder-length apart, spine straight. Good for the arms, shoulders, lower back, triceps, biceps, and... surprisingly enough, the knees.
He focuses on slow breathing, on steadying himself (for and to Dean's satisfaction). If he can convince himself to do what he's told — particularly to trust as he'd been asked to do — then there is an end to this moment, even if it's only the beginning of this experience. ]
no subject
He makes a soft mpf noise in the back of his throat, appreciative and almost impressed. But enough objectifying, it's time to... literally objectify?
He glances around the room to take cues from other couples. What they're doing, how they're doing it. Almost everyone has a tray or a pane of glass balanced carefully along the flat of their partner's back. There isn't anything of the sort nearby, no coffee mugs, no ashtrays, not even a wayward magazine or chapstick to throw on there.
Well, hell. Time to break the mold, right?
He drags the chair closer, a foot or two from the edge of the mat. Settles himself in it, and does what he does to every other coffee table in every motel or hotel he's ever stayed in.
He lifts his legs and crosses his ankles on Blake's back.
Boots decidedly off his clothes, thanks, he's not a total asshole. Which, if he's honest with himself, it still feels like kind of a dick move, but here they are. Participating, even if his posture's a little rigid and stiff over it. ]
no subject
The added weight from those gangling legs is applied with a careful precision that John isn't expecting. He'd only heard the repositioning of the chair, almost braced to be dumped on, but instead finds he's granted just enough mercy that it's not a shock to take on that additional burden.
To keep his spine straight and maintain that table-like aesthetic, the former cop has to engage his abdominal muscles. It's an additional strain he aims to avoid showing on his face, save for his eyes now closing in concentration.
His breaths are longer now, more even than before, and pulled from somewhere far deeper inside of him. If he can find that place — somewhere negotiable — he could keep this up for quite a while, but... then what?
He can't talk. Or he shouldn't. Can't ask if this is doing something for Dean or if that hunter's mind is already working on some kind of long-term solution. His head has to be in this and no where else. ]
no subject
Pretty little girls or blindfolded guys curl sensually in on themselves as their dominant halves stroke praises into their hair, he can see more than one boner cropping up around the room, and meanwhile, his own partner's just sort of. Tabling.
He searches his mind for the psychology behind this whole thing that's supposed to make it erotic. He's coming up with zilch, and to top it off, he's bored as hell. Not even five minutes passes before he's sighing and shifting again like he's the one having a hard time maintaining position. ]
This is supposed to be hot somehow?
[ He muses to a silent Blake, eyebrows drawn up and a frown on his lips. Not even Blake's yoga pose is really doing anything for him. ]
More like downward facing dick, I got nothin' man.
no subject
He hears Winchester's complaint and he has to agree; it's not really doing it for him, either. Maybe because he's approaching it like an engineering equation: The right-angle structure combined with a lateral brace and strengthened with a twelve degree arch provides blah-blah-blah — the exact kind of answer you'd expect from that kind of equation: unoriginal, uninspired, dry...
They'd had more chemistry over a plate of french fries than they're managing in this moment. It feels forced, and not in the way John imagines it should.
Just how much is he supposed to be providing to this scenario? Even with demonstrations and explanations, he's uncertain of the overall dynamic. He could probably do what he was told without ever having to perform this silly exercise as long as what he's being told to do is what John wants. Submissive, indeed. But even then, they'd always had an ebb and flow, and trying to be just an ebb or just a flow requires a lot of things to change.
Tentatively, back arching ever so slightly, Blake... tips those legs right off his "table top" with a lot less warning than was given to him getting them there in the first place.
John makes no apologies, although he probably should. Instead, he sits back on his heels, clearly unfazed by this exercise, voice low. ]
What's the challenge? If it's gettin' you hot, then I got nothin', 'cause that dog don't hunt.
[ And it hasn't — not that Blake's felt could be mutual, at least — save for maybe (maybe) that one time in the Impala, and even then, John suspects Dean would have rather have had a hearty high five than a blowjob and some cuddling.
Blake mutters. ] Trust me, I've tried...
[ But had he really? No. Because of that unspoken rule they had between them. Even the one time something could have happened, it didn't. It's just never been what's really mattered in this relationship. And now that dicks are suddenly on deck, John has no idea what to do. Or if that's really what any of this is about, for that matter. ]
no subject
Yeah, those catch him off guard and throw him almost immediately into the defensive. He doesn't stand, but he does shift forward like he's using his torso to somehow protect his dick from these wild and unfair accusations. ]
Hey- my dog hunts, alright?
[ He snaps, equal parts self-defense and discomfort. His dog hunted Cas back in that mansion, not that they've ever talked about that. His dog got hunted by that stoner version of Phil with the god damn heart shaped cake in the kitchen, which- yeah, no he's never whispered that to a single solitary soul on the planet.
But about this whole trying thing- ]
Tried what? Tried me? You ain't ever tried me- trust me, pal, I'd have noticed.
no subject
Would he have loved that dog to hunt? Or be hunted? Hell yes. But at the first signs of jeopardy, the second Blake had sensed he could lose it all, he'd pulled back.
They never talked about it. If John was possessive or obsessive — and sometimes he felt he was — he never let that stand in the way of what Dean wanted. And he was fine with that. Fine enough, at least, because that meant when things went downhill, he wasn't tempted to circle like a vulture, wasn't tempted to sabotage those tenuous relationships. He was just there. As a friend.
He'd purposefully stood by. When would Dean have noticed? He can't blame the guy, but he also doesn't feel like fully blaming himself, either. They could have normalized this shit between them, but they didn't. Instead, it was just easier to assume.
John sighs. ]
You're right; made it all up.
no subject
Nuh-uh.
[ He declares with a little wave of his pointer-finger in a vague around gesture. ]
No, no-
No, no, no, don't you Blake me, Robbie, what is that? What's the face, what's the attitude?
[ Because it sounds like he's trying to imply he's been carrying some kind of torch, walkin' the world burdened by stuff that Dean's been ignoring or, at the very least, ignorant to. That, folks, is not the case- not by his recollection of events, anyway. He'd let it go if it weren't for that trust me, I've tried thrown out there all casual-like. ]
no subject
It's funny, though, isn't it? To think that Winchester could see so much and yet John feels this interest he had — has, so vivid and lurking, like a predator waiting to pounce — been so pointedly unacknowledged by Dean, he thinks he should be hurt. When, in reality, what had he tried? What had Blake done to even venture the subject?
He recalls things mentioned in passing — always in passing — these glancing blows where one of them mentioned an old flame or a new lover or a prospect with potential, they both acknowledged the reality that neither of them were lacking in basic human needs, and then they moved on. No jealously, no teasing, no drama, no nothing. They just moved on.
His gaze lifts and he catches the all-too-familiar gaze. Delivery's even — all he can manage that feels fitting, that says he's not going to fall apart no matter how this ends They've been through so much worse — so much. ]
No crime, no punishment.
[ Often read as nothing ventured, nothing gained if you're the optimistic sort. He doesn't let his attention wane, but the urge threatens to rob John of this opportunity to come clean. A beat passes. ]
Besides not havin' the balls to say anything, I'd rather die a spinster than risk makin' things weird between us. [ ... ] —wierder, anyway.
[ But truth be told, even coming clean (as evasively as possible) doesn't feel as hard as he'd imagined it would. ]
I'm sorry.
no subject
It's-
What?
They're talking literal years here, they're talking universe hopping and role swapping and more crap than any two people should ever be able to deal with in a lifetime let alone squeezed into the duration that they've known each other. All this time, all this stuff, and only now is he hearing about this?
Distantly, dimly, he's aware that the's a scrawny looking volunteer watching them with wide-eyes like he's popcorn.gifing over the whole exchange, but his presence gets filtered into the background. So not the important factor right now. ]
Let me get this straight...
[ He starts, slowly. Incredulously. Carefully. ]
You wait until you're literally subbing in a freaky BDSM sex hotel in Universe Numero Tres to mention you've got a passing interest in tapping that?
no subject
Except this. ]
Look, if it was just that—
[ John clears his throat. He's in Camp Givesnofucks, too, so if anyone's standing by judging the performance, they probably won't get much out of it. Just a Junior Batman at the end of his rope — and not the kind everyone's thinking, either — and one confused and somewhat (mercifully?) oblivious hunter. Good times. Definitely primed to be rerun material. ]
It's not just that, Dean. How can you—?
[ A passing interest feels much like a slap in the face because it's never been anything close to that, but he gets it. He really does, and it just turns into his head dropping, chin to his chest, eyes on the mat he'd just gotten slightly more physically intimate with than he'd ever managed with Winchester. ]
Does it matter?
[ That's the real question — what really makes John concerned more than the idea of any of this shit. It doesn't matter. It hasn't mattered. It shouldn't matter now except for the fact that the balance of power, despite free will, feels intensely skewed between them. They'd always stayed on pretty even ground before. ]
What it's called? Or what any of it means? We're family enough, and that's what I want.
[ It's what he needs. Way more than being dominated like some kind of bored housewife. ]
no subject
It's not just that, does it matter? Well what is it, and yes it does. His lips part to vehemently insist as much, but Blake knows exactly what to say to shut him down, too.
We're family enough, that's what I want.
How's he supposed to take that? He only knows one way - that Blake's notions about his hunting dog have been bedded to rest around the time they became family, and that any inclination to take things further went down with that ship. That even if he'd been interested before, he isn't now.
And that if Dean tried to push, it might fuck with his family. He'll try many things, but he won't risk that.
And so he falters in a very nondominant way, swaying in place uncertainly, shifting to the back foot, passing a hand over his mouth as he considers where to go with this knowledge. This... yeah, this is so not his area. He might be able to choke someone in the bedroom, boss them around, lead 'em by a god damn leash if that's what they're into, but taking charge emotionally?
Wrong guy for the job. ]
Okay.
[ He says finally, rustily, his throat sort of husky and the syllables catching on dry cords. Resigned sounding, almost. His head shakes, only twice.
Gives up on the notion, because it seems easier than dealing with it. ]
Okay, well, we tried, so. Let's blow this popcorn stand.