TDM #8

[duplicitymods]

« « « TEST DRIVE MEME » » »

« « « AND IT GOES ON AND ON

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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. The hellish summer heat is finally starting to subside, and the cool breeze suggests autumn is approaching.

» » » TAKE A RIDE

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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.

« « « A POCKET OF PENNIES

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The weather’s getting cooler, and people have begun transitioning from summer clothing to the sweaters and jackets of early fall. With jackets come pockets, and with pockets come a bizarre uptick in robberies. Then again, perhaps the correlation is flawed. In the Down, getting robbed is a constant threat. Gangs of street toughs look for lone or inattentive people who look like they’ve got valuables on hand. Uncontracted Submissives are particularly easy to rob, since authorities have little time to bother with a lowly Submissive without a Dominant to advocate for them. One particularly nasty gang of young adult men, the Bulldogs, hangs out near the train, looking to ambush unwary Submissives fresh out of Orientation. They are prone to violent muggings and will simply beat up their target and leave them in a gutter when they’re finished robbing them. In the Up, the streets are nominally safer, but there have been reports of a group of college-aged Submissive women taking advantage of their designation to attack travelers. They, too, stand near the train and the orientation center, looking to seduce passersby into an alley where a group of them can beat and mug their victims, usually Dominants looking to capitalize on their pretty appearances. But you’re truthfully at risk anywhere in the city. The new arrivals are easy targets, and any brazen thief might get the idea to make some quick cash. The authorities are spread too thin to help, but perhaps LIErs can look out for one another? Or they might just get in on the thievery. Everyone’s out for themselves, after all.

« « « NEW FLESH LIKE A GLOVE

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( CW: potential dubcon, drugs, BDSM/sexual torture, prostitution, public use ) Surrounding a large building near the orientation center in the Up, banners and fliers announcing the beginning of the inaugural Duplicity High Tech Sexpo, a trade show for businesses and manufacturers of adult novelties. Since this is the expo’s first year, admission is free and many excited volunteers are handing out vouchers all over the city. These vouchers can be exchanged for goods and services within the expo, but have no monetary value outside of it. Even if you refuse them, you’ll likely find two or three of them tucked into your bag or pocket. Inside the expo hall, there are dozens of booths pitching a variety of entertainments. Many offer interactive demonstrations, showing off their tech for the crowds of interested onlookers. Competition is fierce, and booths try to attract attention and customers through any means necessary. There are private rooms all around the expo for potential customers to try out the products. Booths will also happily accept volunteers for demos, or try to recruit them by bribing them with cash or free samples. There’s a nasty rumor going around that some are recruiting volunteers via more illicit means, like drugging and dressing them up, but surely that’s an exaggeration… Some of the smaller booths sell more traditional toys and accessories: leashes and collars, specialty lubes and massage oils, fetish gear, strap-ons, dildos and vibrators in myriad shapes and sizes, and other basic items. Others advertise apps for the devices, the most notable of which is HUGGR (which LIErs may recognize as a poorly rebuilt sex-themed version of a certain other app.) The closer you get to the big-ticket sponsor booths, the more elaborate and fantastic the products become. One of the most eye-catching demos is for the Climax VR Headset. You and a partner both wear a VR headset, which displays a collaborative virtual scenario. Both partners can alter the setting and surroundings however they like, and any sexual activity conducted in VR transmits real sensations to their bodies. You can come together without ever physically touching. Symphony Hydraulics have a large, loud booth where crowds gather to watch perhaps the most outrageous demo: a variety of fucking machines. Volunteers get stripped, strapped in, and turned on, brought to screaming orgasms in front of the whole crowd. There is a fifteen minute break between demos on each machine, as some poor intern hurriedly washes and sanitizes them between uses. In the interim, they offer smaller, portable versions for sale or rent at the expo. (Some may note that a few of the Symphony Hydraulics staff members look a bit familiar.) Does all this high-tech equipment have you overwhelmed? Wish you could go back to a simpler time? Sir Robert’f Bedroome Provifionf (sic) is helmed by historical reenactor Robert Plum, who has also created his own line of medieval torture device-themed sex toys. Need a chastity belt to keep your Submissive all to yourself? A rack with an attached spreader-bar? An iron maiden with soft vibrating silicone ticklers inside? All the stocks and whips and chains you could ever need? Sir Robert has you covered. Of course, everything on display is harmlessly altered for sexual novelty purposes, but one might also ask to see Sir Robert’s “special” merchandise in the back. Perhaps the most unassuming booth at the expo belongs to Grandma Hattie’s Snacks and Sweets. Grandma Hattie, a kindly old Submissive, has partnered with a tech company to produce what appear to be completely normal vending machines, stocked full of her tasty homemade bread, snack cakes, and other baked goods. Vouchers are good for a free sample of any treat from a vending machine. They taste amazing and have no apparent odd effects-- until 10 minutes after consumption, when you suddenly gain an insatiable craving for a random kink. Your craving will dominate your thoughts for three hours, or until it is appeased.

« « « PERFECTION OF THE DIGITAL

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(CW: potential dubcon, objectification) By far the largest and shiniest booth comes from expo sponsors Sexy Metal Incorporated, who have set up a display of their incredible high-tech sexbots. These life-sized dolls are made of extremely realistic material that feels like warm human skin, and come with state-of-the-art mechanics that give them lifelike movement. Engineers show off how the bots can be plugged into a computer and programmed to act any way the buyer likes. They come in a wide variety of customizable appearances and eerily, some of the bots on display look exactly like people you may know. Booth staff encourage customers to buy these dolls, or to rent them and give them a try onstage in front of the fascinated crowds. If that’s not kinky enough, one of the engineers has purchased a VR headset from another booth, and programmed it to interface with the bot’s controls. Care to slip inside the silicone skin of another person?

« « « MOD & OOC NOTES

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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: In celebration of our one year, pick whichever role you want for your character! » A Pocket Full of Pennies: Feel free to come up with any free-roving gangs or petty criminals you like for your characters to tangle with. » New Flesh Like A Glove: Characters can spend money on items at the expo, or may exchange vouchers for what they want. Each voucher has a value of about $5 within the expo and they may be acquired by finding them, having them handed to characters/stuffed in their pockets or bags by expo volunteers, or paid them in exchange for “volunteering” at booths. Characters may indeed try before they buy, either out in the open or using one of the provided private rooms with a partner. The expo has a staff of unpaid student interns tasked with cleaning and sanitizing products if they are used but not purchased. Grandma Hattie’s snacks can inspire characters to have any kink you may desire. » Perfection of the Digital: Sexbots can resemble any player characters, including brand new arrivals/test drive characters. They can also resemble characters that yours knows from home. The engineers have no explanation for this, and the one who identifies himself as the designer will shrug and say he gets inspiration from many places. The sexbots are hot-ticket expensive merchandise, so security is tight around the booth. Characters who attempt to steal or destroy a sexbot (for instance, one who looks like themselves) will be quickly set upon by guards, who are meant to eject them from the expo. However, many of the guards will take bribes from other booths to provide them model “volunteers,” drugged into complacency. If characters want to acquire a sexbot permanently, they will have to buy it or exchange a hefty 50 vouchers for it. Please remember to mark any necessary content, and have fun!!

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» » » MAIN NAVIGATION « « «

Comments

rey, star wars, submissive

[aurebesh]

& a pocket full of pennies.

[ rey watches. dropped into a world as wholly unfamiliar as coruscant or canto bight might have been, rey watches as much as she can, observing in every moment where she might not make herself a bigger target than she may already be. she isn't stupid — wide doe eyes and innocence certainly hadn't helped anyone on jakku, and she doubts they'll help her here, so she doesn't bother.

is she innocent? perhaps, in the way that duplicity might categorize her. but perhaps not, in others. she's survived all this time, hasn't she? and survival is hardly an innocent girl's game.

in the down, rey is alone. she is a submissive, whatever that might mean, and uncontracted at that — and though she may not understand the social implications of the dominant-vs-submissive division or the reasons why someone's lips might curl into a sneer at her status, she understands freedom when it's given to her just fine. she doesn't have to have anyone, thank you very much. she's gone this long without, she'll manage for however long she's meant to be here too.

she hopes, truthfully, that it might not be long. she has things to do, to be quite blunt about it, and would prefer to do them than other people.

but in the meantime... find her wandering the down, quarterstaff across her back, watching with narrowed eyes as a group of young men begin to swarm closer. perhaps they think she's more scared than she lets on. perhaps they just want to steal the slim weapon she's toting. perhaps, more likely than anything else, they want the money she doesn't have. ]

Back off, [ murmured low, but a hand shifts, cupping around the butt of her staff under her arm. ] I haven't any money, but you haven't any sense.

[ maybe that's the wrong thing to say. or maybe it's exactly right to catch someone else's attention. ]

& grandma hattie's.

[ she's hungry. she's always hungry. it's been a fact of life since before rey can remember, a sensation so common she's not sure she knows what sated truly feels like. so, naturally, when the opportunity of seemingly limitless free samples is waved in her face amidst the rest of the expo, rey simply can't resist.

she takes pocketfuls of vouchers — all they'll give her, and some out of other people's hands if they're not careful with them — and redeems them all. snack cakes, breads, muffins; she doesn't know what these things are called or what they might taste like, and truthfully, she doesn't much care. she's got pocketfuls of sweets, and she'll be taking them home to hoard in her cabinets... and possibly swiping a few more before the expo's done.

except. well. it's not fair to expect her to have complete and total control, is it? she can afford to feast on just one, and so she does, a glossy cherry donut that stains the corners of her mouth and leaves her feeling... well, enthusiastic.

that pep in her step? it's all the sweets. but the smile on her face as she greets others is real. or it could be, if rey ever let herself relax enough to feel it. ]

Hi.

[ she feels something else, too, upon sight of someone else... but she doesn't know what it is or how to put it into words. maybe she'll figure it out. or maybe she'll just twitch a little, insatiable and stupid all at once. ]

& wildcard.

[ whatever strikes your fancy. i'd prefer build-up to smut vs outright kink in the second prompt -- but please don't hesitate to pm if you want to chat something out. ]

grandma hattie's because i'm trash

[resistingly]

[ Finn hasn't been the same since he woke up and found Rey gone; he hadn't been the one to learn that information for himself, though, because he'd been woken by a frantic BB-8 rolling into the bed, nudging his arm repetitively with a series of beeps and whistles that he's now come to realize are sounds of distress, the same sounds he'd made when Poe had disappeared. He's already been to every place he can think of to look for her — the garage, the house, everywhere she could possibly be in this city, but the ones she actually likes to frequent are limited at best and once he's exhausted those he can only come to the conclusion that she's gone too, gone back home, before BB-8 does a scan of the network and confirms the truth for him too.

It's better this way, he thinks, wandering through the exposition with the droid at his side, the droid that hasn't left him throughout this because they're the only ones here now. It's better that she's not here, because she'd always hated this place, hated the designation that had been forced on her and her contract besides, even if he thinks she might have come around more to accepting it the longer they'd been here. She's a survivor, always has been, and that sometimes means playing by this city's rules until the moment comes when they can fight.

He's lost in thought, walking past most booths without really stopping to look at what's in them; someone stuffed vouchers into his hands at some point but he shoves them into his pockets — they'd be in his jacket pockets if he still had it, something else he'd been forced to give up and something he regrets now that all he has are memories of friends and not the friends themselves — but BB-8's sharp whistling from the vicinity of his hip draws him from that reverie right before the droid frantically butts him in the leg. ]

Ow. What?!

[ BB-8's head lists over to one side, which Finn now knows is his attempt at pointing, and his gaze follows that direction all the way to the woman standing a short distance away with a donut grasped in her fingers, eating messily albeit with undeniable satisfaction on her features — and his heart practically leaps into his throat. ]

... Rey? [ She might get a second to react to the sound of her name being called, but that's all because he's already running towards her, wrapping his arms around her for a tight embrace as he tucks his face in between her neck and shoulder and just breathes her in, too overwhelmed by the sight of her to consider whether she even remembers him at all. ]

& grandma hattie's.

[moderatelymaladjusted]

[Quentin's been at the expo for what feels like hours, trying not to watching anything too closely or he'd feel more forced to do something. Do anything. And it would probably be something stupid, like starting to shout at the nearest booth personal to just fucking stop drugging people to get them on-stage to show them being lured, or forced, or tricked in to sex they might not want. And no one was doing anything! Like this was in any way safe, sane or consensual.

He finds himself at some kind of food cart eventually, having walked and walked and walked, head down and ignoring the progressively lewd suggestions thrown his way and that's when he stops right in front of Rey, his hands hovering somewhere up near his shoulders like he doesn't want to accidentally touch anything he shouldn't or like he's very, very unsure about this whole thing.

Quentin blinks. Once, twice.]

Hello?

Javert | Les Misérables (Novel) | Submissive

[inseine]

((CONTENT WARNING: Thoughts and references to suicide, self-harm, self-destructive behavior.))

The Down; The Motel

It took him hours to emerge from his motel room.

After Ex-Inspector Javert swallowed all of the information from the examiners, he numbly sat in on the train ride to his designated rooms, stripped of his dignity and marked with a cursed black line from chin to breast. He looked and behaved like an automaton, stiff and bleak. He was a spiritless husk of a man. The sole sign of life in his haggard and worn face were his sharp eyes, always piercing, always observing. That indicated he was at least attempting to absorb all the overwhelming information issued to him, however dully.

Upon arrival at the dingy motel, Javert received a room key. He entered his rooms. And only then were his marionette strings cut, and he slid to the floor in front of the trunk full of his effects.

After an hour, he dressed as he had every day of his 34 years of his adult life, shooting a cursed and stormy glance to his Parisian ID card identifying him as an Inspecteur de Police.

After another hour or two of dismal, gloomy pacing, he chanced to leave the room.

Javert slipped out the door like a statue molded of iron moving with the barest of mechanical flicks to shut the door quietly behind him. He was tense in his movements, forlorn and cold in his gaze. His pupils swept down the hall desperate attempt to draw lucidity from unfamiliarity.

Yet Javert recognized nothing of Duplicity, his new home and what he was tempted to call his own personal Hell. The cold, faraway stare in his eyes was the only obvious hint of his misplacement. He absently dropped both his police card and his communication device into his coat pocket. He bent ever so gently back, arms clasped across his chest, tucked his chin to his chest, and lost himself in his least favorite task: deep reflection. Over his current situation and what had brought him there, and where on earth to begin on his task of contracting a Dominant to hold dominion over his life.

A Pocket of Pennies

Orientation, ha! Is that what they called that mystifying display? Javert certainly did not feel oriented in the slightest, though at least he left with a touch more information swirling in his brain than before. He felt two steps less ignorant, even if his mind threatened to burst from an overload. It was a start.

But being freshly killed by his own hand and ending up here, as something scarcely better than a slave... There was no comfort or relief for him about that from his betters in this society. Javert, with little aim and no conception of how to embark on a quest to find a contract, took to walking the streets in a self-absorbed haze. He needed to think and reflect to discover the path forward, a most distasteful task for someone who long lived a stern and rigid existence in a perfectly straight line. He had no choice in the matter.

In his utter preoccupation, it would not be long before the fearsome Bulldogs took Javert to be a ripe target.

First one man blocked his way. Javert spotted the steel-toed boots before the rest of him, worn leather scuffed on all sides, toe tapping the pavement with mal-intent.

“Out of my way,” he hissed through his teeth without looking up, and side-stepped to pass. That was when a second man sidled into his path, drumming a club in his hands. Then another two at his sides, and the last at his rear, a slim knife glinting beneath the flickering street lamps.

Javert halted in his tracks appraised each of the men calmly and coldly in turn, the gears turning sluggishly in his head as he put together what was about to happen. Then he broke out into a broad, sorrowful, reckless smile. He was already condemned. What the Hell did it matter if these men killed him again where he stood? With any fortune, the second time around would bring him the comfort and blackness of the grave.

“Ah! I see what it is, boys,” he said, calm and cold and abundantly resigned, as if he were merely an outsider looking in. He spread his arms like a martyr, offering himself and his lack of weapons to the fates. “Well, you have got me. Here I stand.”

Wildcard

[Standard content warnings for my character are self-destructive thoughts, references to suicide, and self-harm. Hit me up with a prompt of your own. I’m 100% flexible and will bounce off whatever you throw at me. If you want to check with me first, I'm on discord at laritheloud#4384.]

[wildphase]

He's not sure why he still has to attend Orientation. He's been here... god, somewhere past six months now, he thinks. He's plenty oriented, maybe more than he wants to be sometimes. But the rules are the rules and he does try to toe the line as much as possible, since he's aware there's a lot about his entire situation here that flies in the face of the rules.

He's mostly just keeping his head down, wants to catch up with his housemates, just wants to get home after this waste of a day but there's something about the noises from the alley that makes him look up.

At first, he thinks to keep walking. The man looks like he's outnumbered, but he looks like someone who might know his way around a fight, which is more than Carden can say for himself. He would just get in the way. But when he stands up straighter and spreads his arms, talking to the one thug, Carden sees the line down his neck (a line that he's missing) and suddenly sees with a cruel sort of clarity precisely what the outcome of something like this is going to be.

"Hey, what's going on here?" he raises his voice before he thinks better of it. The smallest of the five men is still bigger than he is, but he can at least pull off a little bit intimidating when he wants to, more like a errant prince than a fighter, though. Maybe it will be enough, here. There are a lot of predators here who'll back off from a Dominant, regardless of their stature.

"You're holding up my dinner companion," his voice comes out cold, haughty, and he beckons at Javert, imperiously, as though he just expects him to walk right through the other men to get to him, "Come on then. I don't have all night."

It doesn't look like the thugs are exactly ready to back down, but they are all looking at one another like they're not entirely sure about this anymore. Preying on a lone Submissive is one thing, preying on what seems to be an established Dominant is another.

God he really hopes this works. He's not at all confident about his ability to brawl with even a single combatant, much less five.

Quentin Coldwater / The Magicians / Dominant

[moderatelymaladjusted]

« « « TAKE A RIDE

[Still slightly disoriented from being scrubbed down, driven to some posh apartment that looked like something Marina would just kill to live in, pushed through Orientation (which by the way - what the fuck?) and having been through not one but two workshops trying to find out just what the hell is going on here, sitting on hard chairs with other dazed looking people and listening to safe bondage and how sex isn't really the end all of Dom/Sub relationships as if everyone hadn't read at least a little 50 shades of grey and laughed about it. Well, giggled.

But that was then and this is now, and Quentin enters a train tour promising to show him the city and the streets he's going to have to get used to, now that he's apparently going to live here for the foreseeable future.

But the train ride shows less about the city as a place that people live, and a whole lot more about the people living here and he turns away from the windows fast. Collared people, kneeling. What looks like poor people being turned away from the shops the train stops at and while it's not a sexual act like some of the ones the Orientation mentioned, it still looks weirdly intimate when a small woman runs a riding crop down the line of a man's throat on a street corner, waiting for the lights to change.

So, flushed, sweaty and very uncomfortable, Quentin stares at his shoes or the other passengers instead, choosing to clear his throat before he pokes someone on the shoulder.]

Excuse me? Is it-- is it always like this? Or is this just a show they put on for the new people?

« « « NEW FLESH LIKE A GLOVE cw - dub-con, non-con

[If the tour of the city had been an embarrassing and eye-opening experience, then walking in to this place- which really doesn't look like any expo Quentin had ever been to- was mindblowing. There were open sex acts on stages, men and woman both being showed off like merchandise, their arms bound or heads pulled back, there were just orgasms everywhere. And naked bodies, and it takes him a while. A long while. To even leave the relative safety of the hardwood floors close to the entrance. The booths here were less about demonstrations and more about trying to get him to hand over money for things he really didn't need.

Sex toys and flesh lights, toys to tease and torture and it was just. All out there. Like, really out there. In ways Quentin hadn't really thought sex toys could be.

But not everyone seemed like volunteers, though. With slick salesmen pushing vials and packets of lube at the audience, and sometimes pulling one away from the crowd to strap them in to a contraption, or show off the apparent newest in nipple clamps. Protests overheard by the booth workers until the muffled 'no's turned in to half-chocked groans and moans and the air around certain booths was electric with anticipation and cheers when someone made a product look particularly good.

Quentin didn't want to stay too long at any one place, because the last two times he tried to pull an unwilling 'volunteer' away from the salesmen, he'd been gently but firmly pulled aside by someone official-looking and asked if he owned the person he was trying to rescue. Which, no. He didn't.

So, frustrated and very much pissed off, Quentin walks the expo without looking up too much.]

Fuck! Shit, I'm sorry. Are you okay? I-- I didn't see you?

« « « WILDCARD

[Feel free to shot him a line. Find him wandering the streets, shoulders hunched and looking miserable? At Orientation or one of the workshops? Quentin is fairly friendly.]

[notcharming]

Quentin's ended up not so much bowling someone over as in someone's arms, Ereuvir taking the impact with grace and compensating for it,

"Perfectly alright, it's no trouble. There's... plenty to look at, isn't there?" says someone who, anywhere else, would definitely be the one being stared at and not the one blending in with the crowd. He's pale and slender, on the masculine side of pretty, pointed ears and eyes that glow slightly with a blue fire. Far more immediately noticeable, however, is that he has antlers, dark, wicked, curving things that manage to look like they're covered in a fawn's velvet and wickedly sharp at once. He's been "attacked" by a few vendors at this point and has ended up made up a bit, adding to the supernatural appearance, dark kohl around his eyes and delicate jeweled chains draped along his antlers. He's also more or less dressed, but he's out of his usual slacks and shirtsleeves and has been petitioned at one of the booths into a pair of leather pants and boots, a more sheer shirt that shows of the line of his Submissive tattoo completing the look. The entire effect is very different from his normal, enough so that he's enjoying himself a fair amount.

"I seem to acquire something new at every booth," his slight smirk says he's very much aware of why, but he's not really actively flirting, just kind of blithely going along with it. "It's better than some of the events they've put on here, but... it's a little much, don't you think?"

Ereuvir, you are a little much right now. He doesn't seem to notice, though.

Alucard | Castlevania (Netflix) | Dominant

[insularism]

𝔗𝔞𝔨𝔢 𝔞 ℜ𝔦𝔡𝔢
[ Heat; pulsing, pushing and apologising.

Never before had he seen so many people congregated in a single place. It made him think of insects, like a hive of bees - each critter busying themselves with their own job but working towards some unforeseen goal. He stood out in the sea of worker bees, his slow gait often interrupted by grimacing sorrys and passive aggressive excuse mes. Their collective presence was stifling, it was as if their bodies created a heavy, sweaty mist that clung to him like an oily dew.

After what seemed like hours, but in reality couldn’t have been more than minutes, he found himself loitering at a platform. Like a modern-day pier, he supposed. Waves of horseless carriages appeared, were filled like churches overstuffed with the ‘repentant’, and then whisked off at equal speed.

What a nauseating pace of life, Alucard thought.

Over time, the throng of people subsided, and with little alternative, he stepped onto one of the emptier carriages (at least no one was standing on this one).

There were two vacant seats at the end of the carriage and someone was sitting to the far right of them. Since he had no idea how long the journey the would take and didn’t want to draw attention to himself by standing Alucard approached those two, empty spots.

He eyed them before glancing at the stranger. ]

May I sit here.

[ He was polite, but it definitely sounded more like a statement than a question. ]

𝔑𝔢𝔴 𝔉𝔩𝔢𝔰𝔥 𝔏𝔦𝔨𝔢 𝔞 𝔊𝔩𝔬𝔳𝔢 - 𝔊𝔯𝔞𝔫𝔡𝔪𝔞 ℌ𝔞𝔱𝔱𝔦𝔢’𝔰 𝔖𝔫𝔞𝔠𝔨𝔰 𝔞𝔫𝔡 𝔖𝔴𝔢𝔢𝔱𝔰 (𝔭𝔬𝔰𝔰𝔦𝔟𝔩𝔢 𝔫𝔰𝔣𝔴/𝔫𝔬𝔫-𝔠𝔬𝔫)
[ Was that a spelling mistake?

What was a ‘V.R. Head. Set’ exactly?

Missing the hollers and catcalls of the salesmen, punters and charlatans alike Alucard found himself fully engaged with the vocabulary of the free flyer. Perplexed by the terminology used, wracking his brain as to why ‘symphony’ and ‘hydraulics’ had somehow become an acceptable collocation.

He was delicately folding key sections of the glossy paper to obscure and hide the dignity of some rather racy body parts printed when he very almost bumped into someone. He stopped himself short, refused to make eye contact, and continued his insular walk.

Eventually he came across a very unassuming stall. The smell of baked goods evoked a bittersweet sort of nostalgia in him and he pulled his attention away from the printed media to the gentile shop owner.

Perhaps it had been loneliness that drove him to strike up a conversation, but her unassuming and polite banter put him at ease.

Whilst Alucard was not the most expressive of men--dhampires, he could still emote. There was a sympathy and understanding in his eyes and tone as he listened to her tale of woe at a lack of sales. After some affable commiserating he eventually conceded the dog-eared voucher for a single baked good. It looked like a raisin-dotted scone and it’s hefty weight against its size made him think of his youth and his mother’s questionable baking.

The elderly woman insisted he try some, which he did (with some awkwardness on his part). A curt compliment was exchanged and his discomfort forced him to quickly move on, picking at the scone as he continued to explore.

Whatever brew Hattie had cooked up for the scone was particularly potent for this particular dhampire as by the time Alucard had finished the good he didn’t feel like himself at all. In fact, he felt like someone else entirely. His mouth felt dry, belly hollow and his skin seemed to ache. No, the pain was just under his skin. It was as though something was quietly bubbling in his veins, like a kettle slowly coming to a boil on the stove. Pressure building under a tightly fastened lid.

A light thud, that’s all it was. Unassuming and accidental. But when someone bumped into his shoulder his head snapped to the side to face them, eyes wild and predatory. ]

𝔚𝔦𝔩𝔡𝔠𝔞𝔯𝔡
[ Dealer’s choice 🎃 ]

new flesh like a glove

[magocracy]

[Crowds weren't foreign to him, having spent years of his life traveling around the Imperium's largest cities, its capital in particular prone to congested streets at midday closest to the open market. Yet even the grand sprawling pavilions of Minrathous stood a far distance from resembling this city; its towering structures of glass and steel, unusual noises, and flagrant display of sex acts was second to none.

The last of which preoccupied Dorian most now. Polite and full of civility as he could be, he was unaccustomed to the sheer crudeness of the festival - if that was what this was - and the lack of discretion among its participants. It was difficult to shock him, but all of his own experience was kept behind closed doors, never spoken in company, better left forgotten with idle chat over breakfast.

This distraction led him straight into someone else in a brief collision of shoulders. Dorian withdrew and cleared his throat. An apology sat on his tongue, at least until he caught a good look at the stranger's expression, where instead concern bled in.]

Excuse me, are you all right?

Gladiolus Amicitia, Final Fantasy XV, Submissive

[legacyshield]

[take a ride - open]

Gladio had sat on the train ride, feeling ... oversized and out of place. His seatmates for the journey were both small and quiet and Gladio was too uneasy himself to try to put them at ease. Normally, he didn't mind being big, but once in a while when he was surrounded by tiny people who looked at him like an explosive that might go off, it bugged him.

Then again, everything bugged him just now. Most of all that he didn't understand why he was here, what here even was, and that he didn't know what had happened to his Prince or his friends. Was Ignis somewhere, listening to Ardyn be a blowhard at him, blind and stuck in that fortress trying to find Noct and Prompto on his own? Was Prom even there? Was Noct still alive? Was all this even real, or was Gladio just going nuts all on his own?

He didn't know, and he didn't like feeling clueless and helpless at the same time. They let him off the train in a place they told him he lived now. Gladio didn't have any intention of staying there without getting a feel for things, but for now, he could at least look around. Maybe climb back on a train after that. For the moment, he began a wary trip toward where they'd said his housing was - not intending to go in yet. He just wanted to get a lay of the land, see what it was they wanted him to do. Gladio would decide if he wanted to play along with what they wanted later, for now, he'd just look and see.

[perfection of the digital - for brocodes]

Gladio wasn't sure how he'd gotten here. You'd think after the tombs and dungeons and pitch-black forests he'd been navigating lately, one city wouldn't be that damned hard. But this place made no sense, and he kept getting distracted by the people. Gladio generally liked people. He got along with most of them, if they weren't terrible or so damned stuck up they couldn't take a joke. But the people here, they didn't make sense to him. They all just walked around, obeying the rules that the place set up, like it was normal. Like there wasn't a thousand things wrong with it.

Some of them walked around on leashes. Gladio had gotten glared at more in the past couple of hours than he had in a year just because he kept getting caught gawking at one or another scene that made no sense to him outside of the kind of cheap novels he wouldn't have let anyone know he read, when he was bored and out of history books.

So yeah, he kept getting distracted. Who could blame him? (Other than him blaming himself, which he was going to do no matter what.) However much people wanted to act like this was normal, it wasn't. Not to him, not to anyone he knew. Even Imperials, who he had a hard time understanding most of the time, wouldn't just walk around this city without blinking.

He'd taken a train, Gladio knew, and meant to go back to the place they said he was supposed to stay - to case it out some more if nothing else. But instead he found himself somewhere way more uptown, after another train ride he evidently shouldn't have taken. There were milling people - some of them wearing less than him, and it wasn't like he piled on the layers most days. More leashes and collars and people with marks like the ones he'd ended up with. And some kind of market. He let his stomach tug him toward the market. Gladio was rarely NOT hungry.

Turns out, wasn't the kind of market that had food. Or at least not the part he was at. He reeled back from the edge of a crowd that was watching a couple of pretty-faced people getting screwed by ... machines?

Ancients, he wanted to go home. Or wake up, right now, and never have to tell anyone about this dream. Home wasn't a picnic, but at least the chaos there made some kind of sense to him. LIEs and programs and other worlds dumped in this one - that didn't. And the people putting on a show had looked awfully glassy-eyed. It made Gladio worry that they might not know just how MANY people were watching them.

And who the fuck built machines for that, anyway? It was the kind of job you should want to do yourself, not farm out to a machine.

He retreated rapidly, before he did something stupid like try to break up the crowd when for all he knew, it was the people getting watched's idea in the first place. Gladio meant to head back the way he came and retrace his steps, but he ended up not doing that either, and grunted at his own lack of direction. Put him down in the wilderness with trees and rocks and he'd find his way. A city full of people he didn't understand, and he went in circles, he guessed. Figured. Ignis couldn't see now and he'd probably still have found his way around better.

He stopped, trying to get his bearings again and turn back when a familiar flash of color caught his eye. He jerked his head in time to see hair shaped like a bird-butt, bright blond and spiky, freckled face recognizable a second later. "Prom?" Gladio said. He broke into a grin, relief at SOMEONE familiar breaking through him. (Even more so that it was Prompto, who had just been missing, to him.) "Prompto," he yelled this time, starting to shove his way through the crowd toward his friend.

Which was when he noticed that Prompto was about one step away from bare-assed naked. His hands were bound behind him and he had a collar around his neck and and older man impatiently tugging him along toward a nearby posh looking tent with guards standing alongside.

Gladio had a temper, but he wasn't a brute, however often people took one look at his size and assumed he was. He could be thoughtful and strategic, and he didn't like to take on fights if he couldn't win them. But he was protective. With Prince Noctis, it was his job, but it was just who he was, too. As they tugged a silent and unprotesting Prompto away in this alien place, Gladio swore and then just charged forward, grabbing for the chain to rip it out of the outraged overseer's hand. "Prom, come on," he said as the guards started to rush forward. Prompto just stood there though, looking blankly at him.

[burstmodes]

It feels like any other day in Duplicity, if he's honest. Brutally honest really, to a fault.

After having been there for a year, nothing seems to surprise him, and it's kind of taken the fun out of it. Even if it had been stressful, he'd sort of liked the ambiguity of it all—at first. Now, it's just a mesh of the same stuff every day, which is probably why he isn't as enthusiastic as usual about wandering through all the vendors and presentations currently happening. A glance to his left reveals some new sex potion, and a glance to his right has something to do with toys. Even after all this time, he's still never quite experimented with any of that. So, he skips it, shoving his hands into the pockets of his skinny jeans as best he can and keeping his head down.

Maybe the way he feels still has something to do with the fact he keeps losing so many people he cares about. Friends, those who are more than friends. It's always been a tough pill to swallow, especially for him, and he's so trapped in his own thoughts that he almost misses the way someone shouts his name. ... what?

Prompto's head snaps up, gaze flicking through all the people swarming back and forth around him, and – oh. The fact that he's so tall probably helps him stick out more than usual. Or maybe it's the broadness of his shoulders? Prompto doesn't know exactly what to think, absolutely motionless in the middle of the crowd as his heart creeps its way into his throat. Is he seeing things? How long had it been since Gladio had been there? His fingers itch to immediately go to him and drag him away from whatever it is he's looking at, and yet – he's clearly not looking at him. So why had he said his name?

Finally snapping out of it, he moves towards him and barely catches the glimpse of his own face on someone else before trying to swallow the weird wave of anxiety that wells up in his throat. That's not real, he wants to say, but would he believe him? It's not like Gladio knows the truth, he thinks. At least, from the look of him this time, he might not. Which is why he forces himself to take a breath and slips around a few more people to get to Gladio and grab his hand like he's trying to force the leash free.

"Dude, that's not me." If it was... he'd hate to think he'd look so mindless, even that unclothed. There's a flush rising up into his face just thinking about it, and though it's impossible, he tries to nudge Gladio in the opposite direction. "Just leave it. Come on."

And he hates the way that sounds, like it's nothing more than the artificial skin that it is, but he'll have to think about that later.

P'rihnn Tia (Warrior of Light) | FF14 | Submissive

[featherfoot]

[Chances of apping basically nil, but I kinda wanted to play with this particular WoL idea in this setting so please indulge me for two minutes...]



Take a Ride

For all of P'rihnn's simmering frustration and anger, for all the disgust he feels every time he sees someone step aboard the train in such a submissive position and content to obey there are some things worth paying attention to.

He is on a train. He is in a strange new city of a scale he has never before seen. He is surrounded by technology, and lights, and a new land to explore... and this train is at the very least giving him a chance to get a good look at it.

It is also getting him a few disapproving looks and comments, given that he is standing on his assigned window seat, hands against the window as he watches the world zip by. He only tears his attention away to see who boards the train, making disgusted sounds of disapproval at the submissives. There is absolutely no chance he will submit to anyone, and he really can't wrap how these people can so readily accept it.

Anyone who sits next to him is greeted with a huff and a tail in their face. "Want something?"


Pocketful of Pennies

"So. Did we learn our lesson?"

Someone had told P'rihnn he should submit. They had told him that he should accept his role, obey, accept that the 'dominants' held the control here. He supposes that means he shouldn't just punch them half to death and leave them lying in a crumpled heap on the ground (assuming these people are dominants at all - he neither knows or cares), but they attacked him. He cannot allow anyone to think even for a second that attacking him is a good idea.

His ears flick, hearing footsteps behind him, but he doesn't turn to face the newcomer. Instead, he kicks at the stomach of one of the floored assailants, eliciting a pained groan. "If you're thinking of trying your luck, don't," he warns.

Nyx Ulric | Final Fantasy 15: Kingsglaive | Submissive

[nyxthat]

Pocketful of Pennies

There were worse ways, Nyx figured, to be coming back from the dead, but waking up in the hell sex city felt like karma for something Nyx did wrong while living. There was that submissive mark on his neck (because why not? he was already a homeless gutter rat), but his kingsglaive uniform and kukris made it.

Which helped when it came to a situation like this, seeing a bunch of wannabe gangsters team up on a hapless soul. Casually, with all the stealth he was trained with, Nyx stepped up behind what looked like the leader, resting his arm heavily around the guy's neck. He flicked his kukri, the blade gleaming softly in the low light. "Now, what seems to be the issue here?"

New flesh
Nyx maybe had made a mistake. He really needed a drink and therefore searched out these people's ideas of alcohol. He was given one by a very enthusiastic seller-a free sample-and while it was suspicious, Nyx at this point really didn't care. He'd already died; what more could they do to him?

The answer was he was pretty sure something in that drink was not alcohol, judging by the looks the bystanders gave him and the sudden fact that he was really, really horny. Thank the Astrals Libertus wasn't here to see him.

Sliding up to the nearest person that caught his eye, he slung his arm around them. (It was pretty obvious at this point he was not in his full mental faculties) "Hey, I'm skipping the cheesy pick up lines if you tell me what's good here."

new flesh

[burstmodes]

Prompto's been sort of minding his own business for a while now, somehow luckily avoiding any of the vendors offering free stuff to him. He knows better than that, obviously, but sometimes, it doesn't actually stop him from indulging a little. So, he's had a drink or two, nothing laced in it since he knows to ask and no one would dare try it on a Dom without permission, and he's too distracted looking at some of the things in a nearby stall to really notice the people around him. At least until there's an arm over his shoulder and a warm body pressed to his side.

"Ah –" He opens his mouth to protest a little and then blinks, turning his head to stare at him. "Nyx...?"

There's a slight flush to his face that's more than alcohol, wondering what had happened to him. They'd been contracted for a while, but it had purely been to get him out of the Down. And when he'd disappeared... it had felt like a catalyst; shortly after, Noct had gone and then Nero.

Ed Nygma | Gotham | Submissive

[theansweris]

A Pocket of Pennies

Ed watches the women for a little while, biting his thumbnail and keeping his hand shoved deep in his pocket. Everything about him screams anxiety, new, vulnerable-

Fresh meat

-but the gaze that watches those women is sharp, calculating. Learning.

If he's approached by any Dominant looking to get frisky with an unclaimed Sub, he has the demure look down, a suggestive part to his lips, a switchblade in his pocket and a willingness to use it. And if it's a Sub looking to offer help... well, he's a good listener.


New Flesh Like a Glove

In fairly typical fashion, any sort of social interaction that isn't pure business or purely superficial is well beyond Ed's grasp. He's already been moved on from the torture equipment for criticising some of the construction work (and there are tuts of 'Where is his Dom, he's quite out of control, needs a firm hand') and is currently trying to argue his way into being allowed to examine the the mechanical construction of one of those very expensive sex doll robots with the wonderful clarity of, "Look, I understand your concerns, but I'm a professional, I'm a scientist, I am far more interested in a demonstration of the mechanical properties of construction than any, any- base sexual fulfilment."

Tim Drake | DC Comics - Pre-52 | Submissive

[permanentlyexhaustedbird]

New Flesh Like a Glove

Tim had been alerted to Nygma's presence when he had gotten people talking and eyeing him as he was escorted away from a booth and had been subtly tailing him around the expo since. It's not his Riddler, that much he's been able to figure out fairly quickly; too young quite obviously.

He debates on the pros and cons of approaching the man but his hand is forced when he notices the staff of the booth beaconing for a different type of security this time. The type that is likely to drug Edward up to his eyeballs in aphrodisiacs and putting on a live demonstration with that sex robot.

He slides up to Edward's left side; his left eye is still a milky white and blind and he isn't going to start this at that kind of disadvantage. "Mr Nygma, I've got a riddle for you. What's tall, skinny and smart enough to know when to stop?"

Noctis Lucis Caelum | Final Fantasy XV | Submissive

[prince_of_pain]

Take a Ride

He maybe wasn't used to subway rides as the prince, so existing without anyone hovering behind him was both freeing and making him incredibly nervous. Crowds were bad, Gladio always said. But no one knew who he was here, right? At least the people staring at him were probably more concerned with the mark on his neck than his royal lineage.

Noct hoped to the gods that Ignis was not here to yell at him, because the next moment he found himself drifting off to sleep in his seat, completely missing the stop he was supposed to get off at and being rudely woken up by someone dragging him out of the seat they apparently wanted. "Dude, what the fuck?"

New Flesh

He'd TOLD the pair that he couldn't get massages because his back was bad, but that did not deter them. Noct was starting to think that people liked it when he was mildly wierded out, but an overly friendly conversation later, he was already taking his shirt off.

Noct kept his scar away from people as much as he could, thankful they had somehow ended up against a wall. They were saying something about 'sensual oils' and 'taking care of your partner' but he was already strong-armed into doing this. He didn't needed the extra embarrassment awareness would bring.

Plus, he hated the fact that as long as hands were gentle with him, it actually felt kind of nice. Nice enough that he was feeling all tingly and wanted people to touch him more which was absolutely normal, right? Having him to demonstrate on made the pair of salespeople more than happy to start enticing passerby to test out their various oils on his skin. The pleasant buzz that was filling him and pooling heat under his skin was doing a bang up job of masking his embarrassment as the one lady enthusiastically gestured someone over to the prince.

Take a Ride

[immortalmarshal]

Cor himself was taking the train back to the same area Noctis was planning to get off at. But he missed it deliberately because he actually saw the young man sitting on the other end of the train car. Half-hidden under a hoodie, he is struggling to come to terms with the fact that his king is here. Again, after being away for some time...

But as soon as that asshole laid a hand on Noct, Cor immediaty knew that no, this is no paranoid delusion, or mental fantasy. He stands up, growling at the other man while walking slowly. "If you know what's good for you, put him down immediately." It probably doesn't help, though, that Cor has a mark of his own down his neck...

Shadow Moon | American Gods | Dominant

[curious_spirit]

« « « AND IT GOES ON AND ON
Shadow expected this to be the work of the gods. He just couldn’t figure out who, wondering what Wednesday would get out of leaving him in a new city. Maybe there was some truth to what Laura said. Maybe Wednesday just wanted to keep them apart. But that didn’t make sense given that he’d already sent Laura on her way.

The new gods didn’t seem to be at fault either, and that wasn’t just because nobody had tried to kill him (yet). It just didn’t fit. Orientation was just about designations and sex when he attended after the embarrassing trek to his newly acquired apartment in a paper gown. He sat in a henley and leather jacket with jeans and boots, vaguely paying attention to the lecture.


» » » TAKE A RIDE
It …felt wrong to see the person without a line down their throat force someone to kneel at their foot on the train. Shadow watched warily, still waiting on evidence that all of this was real and not something created by Wednesday and company. He quietly continued to watch as the rest of the people with lines were forced to exit the train at Riddler’s Square. Submissives. It was a hard pill to swallow that there were such designations. If the gods were messing with him, why didn’t he have a mark? He turned his gaze out the nearest window rather than watch what was going on inside the train.


« « « A POCKET OF PENNIES
He looked warily at the young woman who approached him with the mark down her neck. “No thanks,” he replied at her offer. It wasn’t the first he’d been propositioned but she was more attractive than some of the previous offers. Yet, he noticed others in his peripheral vision. He’d been a thief but not a mugger before. However, Shadow had been jumped a time or two where he had a feeling of what they were attempting, seemingly not worried with his size. That made him think they had weapons or something equally debilitating.

“From the class I just took, I hear they don’t take kindly to people out of place. You might want to think about what you’re trying to do.”

Hopefully that would make them rethink what they were attempting or at least he’d get the attention of someone else that could help.


« « « NEW FLESH LIKE A GLOVE
Continuing on the idea that he’d figure out who was responsible for putting him in this city, Shadow visited the Expo Hall in disbelief. He nearly tried on a VR headset until discovering the details. The booth for the Symphony Hydraulics was like watching a train wreck. He made a beeline to Sir Robert’f Bedroome Provifionf between… performances? Shadow wasn’t sure what to call it. He didn’t stay in the new booth long before going to the next. Grandma Hattie’s Snacks and Sweets seemed innocent enough. A little too polite to be Zorya Vechernyaya but Shadow was reminded of the old woman all the same. The likeness was more apparent after eating the delicious snack. “Shit,” he cursed while trying to adjust the erection bulging at the crotch of his jeans. As much as he hated the idea of a blowjob thanks to his cheating wife, his mind wouldn’t stop conjuring images of the times she’d gone down on him. “Fuck.”


« « « PERFECTION OF THE DIGITAL
Sexy Metal Incorporated seemed like something the new gods would be behind. Shadow regretted entering the booth within minutes. Maybe it was one of the old gods at work. It wouldn’t be the first time that Bilquis deceived him. Laura was up there on stage, looking the way she had when he’d first gone to prison. Alive. And FUCK if the boner that Grandma Hattie’s treat didn’t want to make a believer out of him. He shook his head, tugging at his pantleg one more time before trying to walk away.

A Pocket of Pennies

[arockypath]

Faith wouldn't have thought anything of it at first glance. She would have simply thought the cute guy was standing with his woman, or Submissive (whatever), and that was that. But she found herself taking a second glance, reading the body language between the two of them and then to the group that was standing nearby. It only took that second glance to set off a few warning bells in her head and to trigger that annoying side of her that wanted to help people. The side that had gotten louder over the last couple of years.

She figured the guy could probably look after himself but she still strode forward to get herself involved. She was quickly cycling through her different options as she covered the short distance, finally settling on greeting him as she reached his side with an easy smile.

"Hey, babe. I lost track of you for a minute there." She told him, giving him a brief look as she reached to take his arm. She had caught him warning the girl but now she added it was a cold look of assessment. Clearly sizing the other one up and then her friends with no sign of worry. It was the kind of look that said she had no problem taking them all on if she had to and there was a damn good chance she would win too.

"Ladies." The single word held the same note of warning before she focused on the guy and gave his arm a bit of a tug. "Come on, we need to go find our shit and our place."

richard gansey iii | the raven cycle | submissive

[dickthree]

» » » TAKE A RIDE

[ King Gansey, reduced to submissive status. All of his assets, his titles, his power over anything have been revoked from him for an indeterminate amount of time. At least he was given back the clothes he came in with.

Aquamarine polo shirt, khaki pants and those god awful boat shoes. It was the thick, inky black line, running down his neck that gave his lowly social standing.

How embarrassing.

On the next stop a dominant with their submissive board the train. He leans over, gaze following after the pair. ] Good Lord.

« « « NEW FLESH LIKE A GLOVE

[ He can't buy anything. He has no money, no way of accumulating it and he does not have a Dominant to look after him. All Gansey can do is watch and try out the products, but since he's got a little bit of dignity left, he just watches in the audience.

When one demonstration becomes a little too much for him, he slips past people to look at something else. Gansey shuffles around a lot because this is all more than a little too much for him. ]

» » » NETWORK UN DICKTHREE

Hello, please ignore my username. This was given to me when I arrived.

My name is Gansey and I am in a very bad predicament. I live in the Down and I would much prefer not to be. How do I go about making a business proposal? Is that what we do here?

New Flesh

[likeathief]

Kavinsky is here to buy, sell, and entertain himself. He's checking his phone after a buzz when a familiar face catches his attention.

No fucking way.

A grin breaks across his face and his dark eyes go sharp when he sees Richard Campbell Gansey the fucking Third with a line down his throat. Fucking beautiful. He thinks of a hundred things at once and only one or two of them involve texting Adam. That can fucking wait.

He tracks Gansey through the crowd until he stops at some other booth selling who the fuck knew what.

"You wanna buy something, Dick? Try something on for size?"

Kavinsky plucks up an o-ring gag, looking like a fiend, and lifts his eyebrows suggestively.

He'd rather the city give him Ronan back, but maybe this is the next best thing.

jackson whittemore (teen wolf) ][ dominant

[illtempered]

» » » TAKE A RIDE

[ When the medical professionals(?) bring him to, heal and clean him up, Jackson's lucidity returned. He wasn't going to be down for the count, not with the purple wolfsbane used on him. But, he'd been out of it and transported against his will. It's not long before he yanks himself out of the grasp of one of the so-called doctors. He straight up calls them kidnappers. He says a lot that goes over their heads, and everything they say goes over his. The deceit gene? It's called being alive. Deceit is a part of life. He lies every day. He tells small white lies and big, ongoing - not a shapeshifting creature kind of lies because he'd like to not be committed. (Not that he wouldn't break out of wherever they'd lock him up. If not by claws, then by tale.)

The limo temporarily shuts him up. He first refuses to get into the car. The residence it's taking him to implies he's staying here any longer than he has to.

The apartment is to his taste, high windows and space for days. If he's going to spend any time here, there could be worse places to stay. (This he eventually learns).

After changing into his clothes, still rumpled but no worse for the wear, he takes the device they've given him and he leaves his nice high rise apartment he intends to never see again.

Moving through the apartment building, he has one question for anybody he passes. ]

Have you seen a guy here named Ethan. Ethan Steiner. [ Ethan's not fond of his last name and Jackson barely uses it. He'll also hold up a folded picture he'd taken out of the frame they'd left him. They being the sicko doctors who'd stripped and processed him. ] Him.

[ The only reason he goes to orientation is to find his boyfriend and make sure he's okay. It's all he can do not to make a scene but he knows the time and place to do that. His frustration, however, is still mounting.

After, he searches the crowd and, once again, asks people about Ethan. This is getting old. ]

« « « NEW FLESH LIKE A GLOVE

[ If it's not the orientation that finally convinces him he isn't in any hunter's clutches, it's the sex expo that cements it.

He's not one to flaunt his sex life. That's for people that feel they need to, usually because they have nothing else going for them. Or, they want attention. Jackson doesn't want attention because he gets it.

His gaze is narrow and he keeps his reactions to a minimum. He prefers to look unimpressed than wide eyed and scandalized like some of these other people.

Anyone can find him standing, arms crossed, in front of whichever booth he's stopped at with a perpetual 'Why?' look on his face. Why is any of this necessary. Why is he here? Why is it always him? Yep, even when kidnapped with a group of other losers, it's still all about him. And his boyfriend, whom he will find and then he will proceed to kill. Because, he's left Jackson with this. A day at the Futuristic Perv Convention Center. ] This is asinine.

» » » NETWORK ][ user. whittemore

[ Like hell if he's programming his entire name in. Jackson's head comes into view. He's holding his device with his other hand. ]

Tell me everyone on here understands that all of us have the deceit gene. It's built in. Like survival. People lie because lying is unavoidable. Experiment over.

[ He knows it's not that easy. And he knows that's an excuse. This whole thing is a sorry excuse is what it is. Now that he got that out of the way. ]

Two more things. Has anybody been here for more than a year. And can someone not drinking the koolaide answer a few questions I have.

Dick Grayson | Young Justice | Dominant

[b_01]

« « « A POCKET OF PENNIES (DAY)

Dick might just look like the perfect victim for the young lovely thieves; he's a Dominant about their age, and seems to look like he's lost, as he passes by the train station and orientation center a few times in an effort to map out the city in his mind. The ladies are easy to spot and when they finally pick him as a target, he does seem out of his league as he smiles and flirts back with them, walking with them until they disappear into a back alley.

To any outside observers, there are the muffled sounds of a scuffle, groans and soft yelps coming from the alley, until silence settles at last. It takes only a moment after that for the young man to emerge back into the main street, running a hand through his unruly hair before he pulls a pair of black shades, slipping them on to hide his eyes before he calmly walks away

And if anyone is curious enough to walk into the back alley he just left, they would find the young women there, ruffled but unhurt, with their hands tied behind their backs with either zip ties or part of their own clothing. Clearly, their hustle backfired on them.

» » » A POCKET OF PENNIES (NIGHT)

Even if he hasn't patrolled in Gotham in years now, Nightwing can't help but reflect on how the Down reminds him of the Narrows back home. It had the same gritty darkness, the same sense of desperation felt by people stuck in a bad place without any chance to rise above their situation. And just like back home, this skewed balance of power is the perfect recipe for people to try and further their own gain, even at the cost of other's. It doesn't take more than one night spent running on rooftops in order to map this part of the city to learn about that.

That's why he's at it again, perched on the edge of a lowrise rooftop, silently following one thug he's identified as part of this 'Bulldogs' gang. And as he suspects, the man on the street below is stalking a new victim, pursuing them until they take the wrong turn into a dark alley where two other gang members are waiting in the shadows.

"Come on, pretty thing. Give us the goods and we won't hurt you. Much."

Nightwing rolls his eyes underneath the domino mask before vaulting over the roof railing to grab on to a random flagpole and using it to spin around before landing in a crouch behind the first thug. He unclips the escrima sticks from his right thigh, twirling them in his hands before offering the gang members a small smirk:

"And why don't you dance with someone your own size instead, hm?"

« « « NEW FLESH LIKE A GLOVE

It's the 'high tech' part of the Sexpo that picked Dick's curiosity. Since none of the technology he came in with is working properly, he thought this exposition might be the right place to learn more about the technology of this world, at least enough to update his tools to work in here.

And after a few minutes at the Sexpo, he's learned something all right. The booths are certainly more than he expected them to be, and while he's no virgin, he's overwhelmed a bit, and Dick is thankful for the dark shades hiding his eyes and casting a shadow on the flush on his cheeks. He's careful not to attract too much attention to himself, especially around the booths where volunteers are asked for, but still spends some time at booths where he might find answers to his technology questions.

The most time he spends is at the Climax VR booth, looking at the VR headset intently. He's even pushed his sunglasses of his face and on his head in order to see the intricate details of the headset, trying to find if he can use its component to connect to the network and hack it from there. Dick doesn't want to chance it from the device he's been given, in case the hack can be traced back to him. Plus, he figures the optical system might also be useful to update his holographic bracer, if he can manage to adapt the coding.

Lost as he is in his musings, Dick has no idea that he might look like someone waiting to find a partner to test out the VR headset...

» » » NETWORK (un: dandanger)

A) Anyone else here from the Twin Cities?

B) So, what's the best way to meet people around here? You know, without the whole 'getting mugged and left for dead in an alley' thing?

« « « WILDCARD

[Info, permissions and kinks are here. If you want to plot or have a personilized prompt, feel free to PM me or to hit me at nuevayuimaxwell.]

network | @Ντιάνα

[monomachy]

Were you mugged and left for dead in an alley here?

Annie Walker | Covert Affairs | Dominant

[smithsonian]

» » » ORIENTATION / THE TRAIN

[ waking up to a new place hadn't been disorienting, exactly, but it hadn't been pleasant. being subdued by a nurse that was stronger than she was (a feat in and of itself), annie had found herself thoroughly examined and put through an orientation that had culminated in a train ride through the city as if it were a monorail moving through disneyland. the sights, the sounds, the impression all led her to believe that she were back on the island, but she was lacking the diamond necklace that had served as a reminder that she'd needed to have sex every two weeks or die.

she was also missing her family.]

➥ [find annie at orientation as she watches the demonstration with an unimpressed look on her face or be stuck in a room with her for that fateful half hour.]

OR
➥ [sit next to annie on the train as she takes in the sights and watches the submissives interact with their dominants on the train.]

» » » SEXPO

[dressed in a navy skirt, and blazer, cream blouse, and tan heels with a distinctive red sole, annie had found herself drawn to the hall in the same manner that everyone else had.

without interest in the life-like dolls, she'd nevertheless taken too long a look at the ones that resembled the famous people back home and one that reminded her of an ex. this was, without a doubt, far more concerning than the things she'd put up with on amat. at least the island hadn't recreated sex dolls in the likeness of her friends. this? this was too much.]

Pardon me. [she bumped into someone, putting a hand up as she chewed the last bite of the cookie she'd been given. as soon as she caught sight of the person she'd accidentally run into, she felt her nipples tighten underneath the lace bra she was wearing and her panties get damp between her thighs.] I hope I didn't leave a bruise.

[this time, at least.]

» » » WILDCARD

[leave your own starter, i'll play along!]

the train

[arockypath]

[ Annie isn't the only one sitting on the train watching a Dominant with their Submissive. The brunette beside her was watching as well with a somewhat bored look on her face that seemed to contradict the sharpness of her gaze as she assessed what was going on.

Truthfully, Faith wasn't really sure what to think about it all yet. It wasn't the strangest shit she had ever seen and at least she was free but it was going to take a bit to get her mind wrapped around it all.

Glancing sideways at the woman beside her, she arched a brow as she gave her a once over and then glanced away like she wasn't going to strike up a conversation. Except... ]

You're new too, huh? [ She glanced back. ] I saw you at that orientation crap.

elsa | frozen | dominant

[isolere]

❅ — take a ride

---

[ her fingers twist together nervously and she fidgets in a way she hasn’t done since she’s sacrificed use of the gloves; it’s almost too peculiar not to feel the swish of the fabric rubbing together between her palms, but she knows she won’t have to worry about an incident happening this time around — at least she hopes she doesn’t.

but there’s a jolt in her heart when the train moves and she’s forced to curl her fingers into her skirt, almost able to hear the scrape of her nails against the fabricated ice. she’d been given a short gown to wear, so loose and thin, but the discomfort of it prompted her to conjure her own dress. but the crystallized gown amongst the rest of the passengers clearly make her stand out far more than she want to, and even as a queen, she’s not sure if she’d desire so many eyes upon her now.

the train shakes and her shoulders tense before she stretches her neck up, trying to peer outside of the window to get an idea of its tracks. but it’s too fast, too much of a blur, and peering out only seems to succeed in making her nauseous.

so she looks to the person beside her, asking quietly, ] Excuse me, do you ... know where this is taking us?

❅ — a pocket of pennies

---

[ with the chilly air, she can see a multitude of civilians within the crowd wearing an array of coats, all of colors and fashion her eyes aren’t prone to seeing. but she’s no need for a coat, not when the cooling breeze is so comfortable on her skin, almost like a blanket in its own right as it whispers against the flow of long blond hair.

but while the wind presents no bother to her, it’s the crowd that makes her nervous, and so she tracks slowly as she squeezes herself in through the cluster of walkers, bustling through the city square. if she knew her way around better, she might have found a different route, something with far less noise than this, but as she peers around, there’s little notice of where it is she’s even meant to go.

unfortunately, the only option, really, is to ask someone, choosing a subject at random to approach before hesitantly walking a path in their direction.

only, it’s just as she’s nearing them that someone else slips by in front of her, her eyes falling to the stealth of their hands as the sneak their fingers into the person’s coat, pulling something out in turn — a mugging? ]

Wait! [ she launches forward, holding out her arm to call after the thief, but in that moment, a streak of ice hurls from her fingertips before it encircles the pickpocket’s legs, freezing them to the floor. in an instance, she brings her hands to her chest, eyes wide in guilty shock. ] Oh no.

❅ — grandma hattie's snacks and sweets (nsfw option)

---

[ she won’t deny that she’s been on a bit of an empty stomach since her arrival, mostly because she’d deny a lot of the food presented for her at the start, too stubborn to give in to offered meals from someone she can only presume had purposely meant to kidnap the queen of arendelle. but the more she’d spent in this kingdom’s space, the more she’d come to recognize that she wasn’t the only one in this predicament, and most hadn’t even seemed to recognize her as a queen at all.

so in time, she’ll finally collect some offered goods from an older woman who presents herself as quite friendly, a warmth in her voice that eases elsa to take a full basket worth of bread and cakes.

she takes them to a bench, setting them at her side where she bites into one of the cakes, a sweet sponge that prompts her to take another bite — and another and another. humming in her delight, she eases where she sits, a comfortable warmth in her cheeks as she makes the most out of an actual calming moment despite the overall distraught of being in a strange place.

but as the minutes pass, that comfortable warmth grows stronger, to the point where it begins to feel more like a heat than anything else. swallowing, she tries to breathe steadily only to find herself shivering, breath shallow as the sensations seem to tingle through her body, coursing lower and lower, until —

until she feels an ache between her legs, a longing to be touched there, and her hand feels so much temptation to slide upon her thigh, to slip beneath the sheer fabric of her dress and scratch that itch, to satisfy — but she grips her fingers into fists, holding back from the desire, even as she slips out a small, needy whimper. ]

❅ — wild card

---

( feel free to switch up the above prompts a little to something more fitting or go ahead and request something else entirely unique. canon point is after the first movie, along with the two specials. nsfw is open to both m & f, though f is preferred. )

a pocket of pennies

[raygunner]

[ well, unfortunately, he's familiar with this song and dance. it seems little has changed since he was here last, including his role. a submissive--please, he deserves better and he knows it. he certainly doesn't deserve to get mugged, at the very least, which is what he realizes is happening when the woman yells out-- ]

Oh.

[ huh. magic, is it? either way, akechi steps aside and watches with something deeper and darker than amusement as his would-be thief struggles to move. akechi glances to the woman, and he raises his eyebrows as he arranges his expression into something more acceptable and polite. when he speaks, there's no judgment. just... curiosity. ]

Pardon me, was that your doing?

Margaery Tyrell | Game of Thrones | Dominant (cw: drugged, dubcon-ish desires)

[roseofthetyrells]

« « « AND IT GOES ON AND ON

[Margaery was dead. she was certain of it. she remembered the floor of the Sept of Baelor heaving under her feet, followed by a flash of poisonous green, and then she was here. being groped and washed by complete strangers with no regard for her rank or titles. she was reminded uncomfortably of her time at the Sparrows' mercy as she was shoved into a paper gown (paper! of all things!) and guided out of the building, finally, finally having her gown and her crown returned to her.

but there was no time to put on her proper clothes; she was ushered into some strange means of transport and taken to a strange, but clearly expensive, domicile. she changed out of the wretched paper gown and into her gown, settling her crown firmly on her head]

» » » TAKE A RIDE

[this place was easily the strangest place she'd ever been in. no horse-drawn wheelhouses here, this was some sort of tube which traveled under its own means.

she checked the ticket, looking it over with a feeling of mild confusion as she'd never seen such a thing before, trying to determine where she was supposed to go. finally, she thought she had it figured out and went to where she was supposed to sit, only to find someone else had taken her seat! inwardly, she bristled at the presumption, but outwardly she put on her sweetest smile]

Pardon me, but I believe that you're in my seat. ["now leave" went unsaid]

« « « NEW FLESH LIKE A GLOVE

[everywhere she looked, there was something she'd never seen before, never even heard of in the whispered tales of the brothels of King's Landing. though, the merchants loudly, eagerly hawking their wares wasn't too terribly different than the poorer areas she's traveled to in her missions of charity and outward humility.

though, none of the wares she'd seen in Flea Bottom were like this. there was a young woman riding what looked like a phallus attached to a moving bench with loud enthusiasm, there was a display of what the hawker called cock rings in a variety of sizes and materials, claiming that they could make a man last far longer in bed. perhaps I should have found such for Tommen, then he would have lasted for longer than four minutes.

the display with the rack and iron maiden seemed a bit more familiar, but even those devices were equipped with odd devices apparently intended for sexual pleasure in addition to punishment.

finally, she chose to make her way to the seemingly kindly old lady selling treats. she took one of her vouchers and, after a little assistance, purchased a custard tart from the strange device, consuming it in small, ladylike little nibbles as she wandered through the market.

all seemed well at first, but she soon found herself overwhelmed with the urge to come at another's hands. she'd tried to teach Tommen how to do it, but he shied away from the notion, not wanting to so much as touch her pearl, feeling that such an act was "dirty." she repressed a snort of derision and pressed her legs together, feeling the urge to come consume her more and more]

« « « PERFECTION OF THE DIGITAL

[now this was peculiar, even by the peculiar standards she'd seen thus far. Joffrey Baratheon stood before her, his lips curled in the sneer she'd gotten so accustomed to while watching his dealings with others. but not with her. she knew how to keep him sweet, sweet words and deeds, subtle encouragement and nudges in the right direction, slowly breaking the stranglehold his wretched mother kept on him.

just a little more work and he'd have been hers. but grandmother chose to poison him, feeling that Tommen was a far safer bet as a husband and a king. one she wouldn't have to work so hard at to keep kind and more importantly, compliant.

she stood before Joffrey for what felt like a long time, waiting for him to say something, do something. finally, she snapped her fingers in his face, wanting some kind of reaction.

when she received none, she pitched her voice as sweet and persuasive as possible]

Darling? Aren't you going to say anything? It's quite rude to ignore your wife, after all. [to the person next to her after Joffrey continues to not react] What is the matter with him?

« « « NETWORK

I must admit to being curious. How many people here come from worlds where such [she stumbles slightly over the spelling of the word] technologies are uncommon? This is all quite strange and I'm not so sure I like it.

Anyone who is willing to assist me in getting used to such things will receive a favor of their choosing. Within reason, of course.

un: pavus

[magocracy]

You are far from the only one, I assure you. Though I can promise it does get easier with time and exposure. Consider this an... adjustment period.

What sort of favors, exactly? Would these happen to be magical in nature?

Fenris | Dragon Age | submissive

[brooder]

It was as though he had stepped into Kirkwall only to end up back in the Tevinter Imperium.

Surrounded by slaves, 'submissives' they were called, depravity and people with superiority complexes. The only thing that made it slightly better than his former home was the lack of mages. Or at least, so Fenris thought. There was a least a lack of their propaganda being spewed at him with everyone he spoke with.

Not that he spoke much. He knew when to keep silent for his survival, and this was one of those cases. He'd already expended far too much of his energy when he first arrived, furious and fighting only to be subdued and told the basics of his new location. Once he absorbed that knowledge he knew he had to play it smart, or risk dying before he reached his true objective.

Revenge.

Danarius wasn't here, not yet, but there was always the potential. After all, where had he ever gone that his former master did not reach? It was only a matter of time and he had to be ready. He needed to find shelter, form alliances, keep his eye out for others who appeared strong or perhaps anyone from his world who would understand without long explanations.

The less he had to speak, the better, lest the poison that infected his soul, the poison known as hatred, come out through his mouth in an endless rant. It would do him no good to chase off others now and he was done with running. It was time to get ready to face the tiger.

» » » TAKE A RIDE

Fenris had never been on such a contraption before. It was nothing like a horse-drawn carriage or a boat, it was a unique creation all of its own. As much as he was tempted to keep to himself, sit to the back and ignore the others that were with him, he remembered his goal and stood to wander up the aisles.

« « « OPTION 1

He felt as though he had a good eye for people, even if he was cautious to give his trust to anyone. He knew a conman from one who was honest, at the very least. He sought eyes that were not down-turned, those who were already broken or shy; eyes that would not look away when he met them, those who were intimidated by his appearance, an elf covered in tattoos with a serious expression; eyes that would not glare in judgement, those who hated him for what he was. If he sees someone who fits that criteria he may sit beside them and begin a conversation.

"My name is Fenris, may I join you?"

« « « OPTION 2

It took every ounce of self control he had not to rip the heart out of the slaver, 'dominant', who entered the train with his kneeling slave, 'submissive'. Instead, he quickly sat himself next to the nearest passenger and spoke in a low, almost rumbled, tone.

"I apologize. Tell me to go and I will, but if you do not mind the company I will that you distract me from doing something foolish."

» » » A POCKET OF PENNIES

Fenris did not restrict himself to the Down or the Up, he wanted to explore both of these regions as he imagined the battle could come to him at anytime, anywhere. It was good to be prepared.

« « « OPTION 3

Aware that his 'designation' would not allow him to peruse the Up for long, something he was used to, he kept close to the train station in order to make a quick exit if he was questioned.

The group of pretty women only briefly caught his eye, but he did not approach them. As nice as it would be to have the company of another, he could not allow himself to let his guard down and something about them felt... forced. Besides, it was unlikely they would be interested in him anyway, it appeared their targets were more well to-do.

It was then he noticed they had slave markings, and they were using them to lure slavers away from the public eye. He smirked to himself as he thought of what they might do to their quarry once they are alone with them, certainly not with the slaver expected. He had not thought of that tactic before, it appeared to be quite effective as he discovered when he peeked down the alleyway.

He decided then to keep a lookout for them and speak to anyone who came too near, in order to distract them so that they could get away cleanly. It was not any of his business, no, and he should not linger long, but momentarily he felt as though he was doing something of value. And perhaps they would notice and provide him with connections.

« « « OPTION 4

The Down, his new home. It smelled similar to Kirkwall. If he had one wish it was that it had less abominations and he could find the security he needed. There was no mansion of his former master here to squat in, as he had planned to do in Kirkwall, but he would make do. He always did.

When he was suddenly attacked it reminded him of home, though these creatures were hardly more than thugs and even without a weapon he was able to bring each of them down in a matter of seconds. One groaned and clutched at his broken nose, two others were completely unconscious while another held his broken leg and stared at the lithe elf in shock.

Fenris merely glared as the lyrium beneath his skin briefly flashed, white and blue, it was enough to make the man whimper and hide his face. That was enough, Fenris thought, and turned on his bare heel to make his way deeper into the Down. If this was all the city had to offer he was going to get very bored very quickly.

» » » WILDCARD

Throw anything you want at him! 

( OOC notes: Fenris' canonpoint is pre-Hawke, having only just arrived at Kirkwall.

For those of you who haven't played the game: He is unlikely to be intimate with anyone without getting to know them first, so expect a lot of slow-burn with this guy. He's bisexual, can be a bit flirty at times but is otherwise very respectful and restrained upon first meeting him unless you're pro-slavery or a user of magic. More kinks and deets later, still setting him up!

And please forgive any slow tags, I have family in town for the weekend. <3 )

Option 1

[compellingstatement]

Jon really can't help but stare at those tattoos. He drops his gaze only after a very long moment to when the elf moves to sit beside him. "Er... yes, that... Jonathan Sims, the Archivist." It doesn't seem like he's about to be told off, but who knows?

"Sorry, your tattoos, they look unusual. Are you all right?"

Shane Walsh | The Walking Dead | Dominant

[prettymuchdead]

& a pocket full of pennies

[ Truthfully when Shane comes face to face with scientists his mind goes into fight or flight mode. Unfortunately with Shane that's mostly fight. Especially these days. He tries to cold clock a few of them until he's fully restrained. It's hard to listen to reason when they start giving him the full rundown of what he's walked into. The CDC wasn't too long ago. Jenner and his lying ass were still fresh in his mind. How're these folks any better or worse than him? Finally Shane settles down though and shuts his mouth. He doesn't see walkers. World smells different too. Back home it's hard not to smell death everywhere. It lingers in the air no matter where you go. Right now there's nothing. The paper gown makes him grumble, but when he gets outside and finds a limo he doesn't really know what to do. Luxury is finding a can of SpaghettiOs that hasn't been devoured. This is all kinds of different.

At some point he goes from a limo to a highrise and Shane honestly isn't sure what to do with himself. From what little he saw of Hershel's house back home seemed like a luxury they were given despite Carl's condition. Now he's got an apartment and suddenly it's like he's right back before the outbreak. It's gotta be a fucking dream. This whole situation is unbelievable. Right down to the orientation that he eventually attends in actual clothes. His clothes. They're just clean. Which is a damn shock after he's spent so long washing them in a river or any other small water source they can find.

The whole dominant and submissive shit sounds like it's all just made up. He doesn't know if he trusts it. Doesn't know how he can trust it. His world is filled up to the brim with liars. Folks will do and say just about anything back home. Especially if it means survival. Shane knows first hand. Otis is still fresh on his mind. The last thing he truly remembers from home is getting back to the farmhouse to get the medical equipment to Hershel. Now he's here. Wearing clean clothes and being told that he's supposed to be some sort of dominant? Before the outbreak Shane's sex life wasn't exactly bland. He was single and sleeping around was kinda just something he did. Now he's got a label slapped on him and some sort of rules in place.

Still. It's better than home.

Been a long time since Shane's been on a functioning transportation system. King County isn't exactly a buzzing metropolis, but he's been on a train or two. Still. It's been a while. Maybe he's just an idiot or maybe he's still hurting from Lori, but when a woman (he's almost certain is a submissive) approaches him he buckles a little. The walls come down and Shane lets himself get duped a little. Before he can blink though he's got himself a problem. She's not alone and they are not looking for any group options. ]

I ain't got nothin', ladies. You're barkin' up the wrong tree here.

& new flesh like a glove

[ Shane really isn't looking to visit an expo, but he's also not a damn idiot. He knows there'll be more people for him to talk to and that means more information. Getting to talk to someone who has a little bit of unbiased knowledge about this place would really make him sleep a little bit easier at night. Though having an actual mattress has helped go a long way. It all looks too good to be true. Not the underlying situation, but the world. It's whole and that's the part that leaves him the most uneasy. He's been in survival mode for so long that he's almost forgotten how it feels to relax. He doesn't know how to settle and he doesn't get any sort of comfort from a locked door. Locks break.

The booths and the people keep Shane's head spinning. He's curious and skeptical all at the same time. He makes a point to check most of the booths just in case he misses something, but at some point he does realize that it's just sex toys. Not that he didn't know what he was stepping into, but it's nothing useful to him. He doesn't actually think he needs any. At least not yet. The Climax VR Headset is about as appealing a kick to the nuts. Shane's not had to deal with technology much since the outbreak and he's not sure he wants to start incorporating it into his sex life now.

Grandma Hattie's Snacks and Sweets however pulls Shane in pretty easily. Food is scarce back home and good food is almost impossible to find. If it's not in a can or freeze dried you're not eating it. Wild animals are scarce really. Walkers overpower them and rip them to shreds pretty easily. Shane forks over a voucher pretty quick for some bread and spends some time wandering the other booths eating on it. It's about the best damn bread he's had in a long time. He's thanking his lucky stars until it hits. It's unassuming at first. A warmth that spreads out and makes it impossible to ignore.

It's an itch in the back of his mind. One that consumes his thoughts and has him trying to collect himself. ] Shit. [ He whispers to himself. ]

& wild card

[ Feel free to come at me with something else if you'd like. Shane's a zombie apocalypse survivor and former rural deputy for the Sheriff's department. This is all a little over the top for him. ]

a pocket full of pennies

[hugh_hefner]

Ladies, you know the rules have just tightened and the penalties are heavy for not falling into your designations.

[ Dolls appeared with his gun drawn, having already heard of reports of people being jumped in the area. He wasn’t taking any chances and panned between the figures regardless of gender. It was easy to see who they were closing in on. To say Xavier was surprised to see a somewhat familiar face would be a fair statement. He’d seen the guy with less hair at Wynonna’s bar. They were friendly although a conversation between them had yet to take place. ]

Castle...

[ Why was he just standing there? It wasn’t impossible to believe that Wynonna never had mentioned him to the other man. Xavier had to do some research to find out Frank’s name. Working as an investigator with the local police had its perks. The man was a fellow Marine so there was discipline there that Dolls could attest to. Yet… in the middle of the group of women, it didn’t make sense that he’d gotten caught up.

Xavier motioned with a nod of his head for Frank to step out of the circle and come towards him. ]

Over here.

Alice Quinn | The Magicians | submissive

[dramaquinn]

[ ooc: tentative canon point is late season 2, after she gets revived but before magic gets turned off. also, im just dicking around tbh, the prompts look fun! ]


» A Pocket Full of Pennies

[ The air leaves lungs in an undignified grunt as her back hits the concrete wall her assailant pushes her against. He's big and has a friend with him and Alice is afraid until she remembers she doesn't need to be big or strong--she's a magician.

Why they're attacking her -- she's poor now and has a stripe down her throat, broadcasting to everyone that she has about as many rights as trash -- is a mystery, but so is much of what she's experienced in life.

The men come toward her, and Alice cowers long enough to let them think they have her before she casts a quick battle spell. They get knocked off their feet and sent flying back and into the street, and Alice takes the chance to run, a panicked look on her face, glancing at street signs so she heads vaguely in the direction of the submissives' glorified dorms.

She collides with people and keeps going, not even bothering to apologize. Fuck these people. Fuck this entire place. She'll find a way to remove the fucking tattoo down her throat, and then she'll work on getting out of here. ]


» New Flesh Like A Glove

[ Alice is not uncomfortable at the expo. In fact, she keeps finding herself thinking that her parents would love this, would buy more than a few products, and would set up them up ar their next Roman "festival" (read: orgy).

People mostly ignore her, until one particularly pushy vendor pushes a drink into her hand and says it'll help her relax. ]

Are you kidding me?

[ She takes a step back and throws the drink at his feet. It's noisy here, so it doesn't echo or anything, but anyone nearby definitely saw her throw it, and some people have stopped to stare. ]

Fuck you. I don't belong to you.

[ To say it in terms he'll understand. She doesn't belong to anyone. She shouldn't even be in this stupid fucking body.

She starts to walk away, but the vendor keeps pressing, so Alice whirls around and yells ] Fuck off! [ and all but runs away from this creep, ugh. ]


» Wildcard

[ She will be offering her vouchers to strangers while she hangs around the expo, bored out of her mind. She'll consider getting a job at the Naughty Persian because she figures magic will help her get nice tips. She loves books so she'll hang out at the bookstore. She will visit the community garden to help things grow. She's super bored and pretty aggressive and not shy about sex. Hmu via pm or plurk (punnyinpink) if you wanna set up something specific. ]