ask me about x [ Of all things, it could have been worse. Visions flash through Dorian's mind of him wearing a shirt brazenly asking 'ask me about my immortality!' or 'ask me about that time I murdered my sister!' or, if these shirts wanted to be really bold 'ask me about that portrait in the attic.' Or, at least, the metaphorical attic. As it is, Dorian's wearing a hideously oversized shirt that says 'ask me about my textbook narcissism.'
At least there's drinks. He'd much rather spin a terrible first impression if all parties involved were a little tipsy.
He saunters over to the first person he sees, giving them a little nod as he approaches. It's obvious that Dorian has tried to make this shirt a little bit more flattering than it actually is: part of the shirt has been torn at the side in an attempt to make it a little more fitting. It is also obvious that said attempt has failed miserably. ]
How exactly do you want to do this? [ Dorian starts, giving the person near him a grin barely concealing his annoyance. In his crisp British accent, he asks, ] Because I don't think the powers-that-be thought through giving a...ah, [ quick look down at the shirt to make sure the phrasing's right ] 'textbook narcissist' the opportunity to talk about himself.
long way around [ Dorian didn't need cosmetics. He wasn't going to a rave or anything of that sort and a face like his didn't need much of that anyway. But he did need something interesting. And a new facet of this bizarre sexual stratified society certainly qualified as interesting. Were certain things only allowed to Dominants? Were Submissives barred from certain scents?
Dorian was having a lovely conversation about worldbuilding with a saleswoman (and also maaaybe flirting a little too heavily with her in the process) when a spritz of cinnamon-pear from a nearby volunteer changed that mood entirely.
Why was he trying to figure out how things worked by talking to people? This was a brand new world, he should explore it himself instead. Abruptly, Dorian ends the conversation as he turns to look for his newest victim conversation starter. ]
You there! [ yes you, random person tagging into this prompt that Dorian is now dramatically pointing at. ] Let's do something fun. Like...I don't know, skydiving. Do you think this place has skydiving?
wildcard ( I'm up for anything! Dorian's good with m/m or m/f ships and I don't mind matching style if you're not a fan of brackets )
Dorian Gray | Confessions of Dorian Gray | dominant
[ Of all things, it could have been worse. Visions flash through Dorian's mind of him wearing a shirt brazenly asking 'ask me about my immortality!' or 'ask me about that time I murdered my sister!' or, if these shirts wanted to be really bold 'ask me about that portrait in the attic.' Or, at least, the metaphorical attic. As it is, Dorian's wearing a hideously oversized shirt that says 'ask me about my textbook narcissism.'
At least there's drinks. He'd much rather spin a terrible first impression if all parties involved were a little tipsy.
He saunters over to the first person he sees, giving them a little nod as he approaches. It's obvious that Dorian has tried to make this shirt a little bit more flattering than it actually is: part of the shirt has been torn at the side in an attempt to make it a little more fitting. It is also obvious that said attempt has failed miserably. ]
How exactly do you want to do this? [ Dorian starts, giving the person near him a grin barely concealing his annoyance. In his crisp British accent, he asks, ] Because I don't think the powers-that-be thought through giving a...ah, [ quick look down at the shirt to make sure the phrasing's right ] 'textbook narcissist' the opportunity to talk about himself.
long way around
[ Dorian didn't need cosmetics. He wasn't going to a rave or anything of that sort and a face like his didn't need much of that anyway. But he did need something interesting. And a new facet of this bizarre sexual stratified society certainly qualified as interesting. Were certain things only allowed to Dominants? Were Submissives barred from certain scents?
Dorian was having a lovely conversation about worldbuilding with a saleswoman (and also maaaybe flirting a little too heavily with her in the process) when a spritz of cinnamon-pear from a nearby volunteer changed that mood entirely.
Why was he trying to figure out how things worked by talking to people? This was a brand new world, he should explore it himself instead. Abruptly, Dorian ends the conversation as he turns to look for his newest
victimconversation starter. ]You there! [ yes you, random person tagging into this prompt that Dorian is now dramatically pointing at. ] Let's do something fun. Like...I don't know, skydiving. Do you think this place has skydiving?
wildcard
( I'm up for anything! Dorian's good with m/m or m/f ships and I don't mind matching style if you're not a fan of brackets )