Duplicity Game Mods (![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
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duplicitymemes2020-01-12 10:22 pm
duplicitymods) wrote in duplicitymemes2020-01-12 10:22 pm
Entry tags:
TDM #10
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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 weather is a brisk negative seven during the warmest parts of the day. |
 It's time for the monthly Duplicity train tour. 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. |
 Along with the usual Dom and Sub seminars and demonstrations, the powers that be have decided to try something a little more friendly. After attending the mandatory classes, all characters are invited to a (mandatory) social mixer! There are beverages and light snacks, and mingling is highly encouraged. Also, all participants have had their clothes removed and replaced with long shirts ( they are allowed to keep their undergarments, but nothing else is allowed ). Said shirts have the phrase “Ask me about _____!” plastered loudly and proudly on the front. It could be a character’s deepest, darkest secret, their most negative trait, or something embarrassing they had happen to them. Each participant is given a clipboard, pen and a piece of paper and are tasked with “asking” three others about what’s written on their chests. Once they’ve completed the task and handed in the assignment they’ll receive their clothes back. Of course, the long shirts can be removed, but that means you’ll be stuck in the nude or in your undergarments until you cooperate. |
 Not into your long shirts? Want to complain or refuse to participate? There’s another option! Unruly Dominants and Submissives will find themselves locked in a private room with a bed, stuffed together into a get-along-shirt. There’s no escaping the garment either, until certain conditions have been met. Written on a flip chart in the corner of the room are the tasks that need to be accomplished to “get along.” Are the two supposed to share a kiss? Sing a romantic duet together? Say the alphabet backwards in sync? The whole point of the exercise is to find that synergy a Dom and Sub pair are supposed to have. Maybe this isn’t the best way to find it, though… When the conditions are met the shirt is removable or rippable. Otherwise no matter how hard the characters struggle they’ll find themselves unable to get the pesky thing off. |
 Many local businesses have adapted to the timing of newcomers, and take advantage of the incoming crowds to do a little marketing. Stationed throughout Duplicity in LIEr-adjacent places such as the train station, the Up Apartments, the Down Motel, and the orientation center are representatives for local businesses and companies handing out free samples and hoping to attract business later. This month, there’s a particular presence by Harbroken Industries, a cosmetic and beauty company. They’re pushing free samples of their new pheromone perfume sprays, delicately scented and guaranteed to work. Sample bottles are freely available, but some overeager volunteers are taking the department store approach and spritzing unwitting passersby. The citrus scent is energizing and bright, inducing a talkative state where users cannot get enough conversation, and lose any internal filter for their words. The strawberry-vanilla scent is sweet and comforting, like a warm hug, which users will get a lot of with their new obsession with physical affection. Cedar-sandalwood makes those who use it tough as nails, angry and ready to pick a fight over the smallest slights. The cinnamon-pear scent makes its users feel adventurous and curious, and maybe a little TOO bold about trying new things. And predictably, the patchouli spray inspires “free love,” with an aphrodisiac effect that gets worse over time, unless taken care of quickly. The scents will wane and the effects will fade after six hours, or after the urges they cause are fulfilled. These volunteers are so eager to make a sale that it’s entirely possible to be hit with more than one spray at a time, so maybe take the long way around these areas if you’re looking to avoid them. |
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: Count the letters in your character's full name ( first, last, middle or whatever combo that they have ). If it totals twelve letters and below they are a Dominant. If it's thirteen and higher they are Submissive. Please remember to mark any necessary content, and have fun!! |
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He could just...What?]
Now, what does a tiny monkey have to do with anything? Honestly, Crowley. Just be still for once and enjoy things, will you?
[Just like him to try to crack a funny at a time like this. He shakes his head and clicks his tongue, then settles right back in again.]
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Even after all that, he's still waiting for the other shoe to drop.]
I'm trying. [A little petulant, but also —] Are you glowing, angel?
[His eyes are closed and he's not brave enough to open them while he's this close to angelic radiance, but he can sort of feel it, in an odd way. It's kind of tingly.]
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[Immediately, he is not. The love is still there, however. He truly is losing himself here. He should be more careful, or he will burn him, and then everything will end in tears.
He lets out a soft huff.]
I suppose in a way you've gotten your wish after all. It's not Alpha Centauri, but we are together. Away from them.
[For good or ill.]
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At the rest of what's said, though, he finally eases back a little, just enough to gently hold Aziraphale's face in his hands. The yellow of his eyes has swallowed up the whites, just thanks to how overwhelmed he is by all that love.]
This place isn't good, you've got to understand that before you get hurt. [Well, the calm that had washed over him was nice while it lasted.] And it will hurt you, sooner or later. Just — I'll be here, whatever happens.
[It's better, he thinks, to be prepared for pain. The kind that comes as a surprise is worse, he learned that a long time ago.]
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His look in return is purely soft.]
I know I haven't given you much reason to have faith in this, dear, what with all of my complaints and attachment to luxury. I can handle hurt. It won't be the worst thing that has ever happened.
[It can't possibly be worse than learning Heaven attempted to murder him for helping avert their stupid war, and if they used Hellfire, the implications are that they worked with the other side to do it. He wonders what Hell had in store for Crowley. If Heaven in turn facilitated it. That's something to process in his own time, not on the heels of Crowley's momentary breakdown.]
We've had each others' backs for this long. Will it be so very different?
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[He can tell from the look on Aziraphale's face that he's a little distracted, which is something in and off itself, the fact that Crowley is the source of that distraction.
This feels important, at least to him, but at the same time he's starting to worry that maybe this is too much right now, that he's too much. Maybe it's just — him, that's the problem here, that he can't handle this place, and Aziraphale will do just fine. Something complicated and uncertain crosses Crowley's face, before he sighs.]
It might be. I don't know, angel. This isn't like my lot, the torture. I've always said that about humans, haven't I? They get so much more creative.
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[His voice is a little smaller. His curiosity has always been problematic. He's likely to hear something he doesn't want to, yet he feels as though he needs to.]
Did I tell you what they did down there?
[He can't get the thought of Hellfire in Heaven out of his mind. A demon in Heaven. He clenches his teeth. Humans might be more creative. Are they truly more cruel?
His hand in his hair cups round against the side of his throat. He wonders at that complicated expression. Few can fret as thoroughly as Crowley. He's just usually more inclined to brush it off and keep it in, pretend it's nothing.]
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You already know, don't you? [Aziraphale is clever, he was the one who figured out the prophecy in the first place. It was poetic in its own way, even he could respect that sort of thing, the irony in Heaven and Hell working together. The use of holy water, after what he'd done to Ligur.
Crowley takes a breath, fixing a wry smile in place.] Michael brought them holy water, poured a nice bath for me to hop into. You apparently asked for a rubber duck. I'd have loved to see the look on Beelzebub's face.
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His smile is rather fixed.]
Cheeky of me.
[It's his silken tone, the one he gets on the verge of breaking something or setting it on fire.]
I wish I had the memory. My last memory before arriving here is of that idiot man causing me to discorporate. He wouldn't mind the circle.
[Maybe if he could recall the reactions of the demons to "Crowley" bathing in holy water, he wouldn't feel as though he could vibrate to pieces with rage.]
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You'll get there, once we're done with this bloody place, you'll go home and catch up to me. [They'll have to do this all over again, at some point, but Crowley doesn't mind that thought as much as he expected to. That thought gives him an idea for a distraction, to try to pull Aziraphale out of his thoughts.] I was planning to properly court you, you know. Once it was all over. Would've been real romantic.
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He'd prefer to go with it than destroy most of Crowley's things, or worse the entire north side of the building. Or all of the glass in the entire city.]
Were you? You know, they won't like that much. Won't leave us alone indefinitely, even if we bought some time with our little ruse.
[He pauses a beat, continuing a gentle thumb stroke at the side of his throat.]
What did you have in mind?
[The smile eases from gritted teeth to a more natural one.]
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[Ever the optimist, as much as he wouldn't like to admit it.
He'll sort of own up to it now, though, because it's hard to remember to be cool and detached when Aziraphale is so close and touching him like that. He closes his eyes for a moment, tilting his head to the side to expose more of his throat.]
I'm hardly going to spoil it now, am I? There's opportunity enough for it here, we just got the steps a bit out of order. Doesn't mean I can't take you out dancing.
[Proper dancing, not the awful kind that Crowley does in clubs.
They'll have to be careful, of course, but that's nothing new.]
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Instead he makes one of his noises that can mean anything, really.
It's growing harder to recognize the impulse to touch him as alien. It should be more alarming than it is to lose his awareness of this. Once he strokes down, he simply flips his hand and runs the backs of fingers back up again, just beneath his ear.
His heart gives a small leap at the mention of dancing.]
Oh, would you? Now Crowley, I hope you're not talking about that, that...disky sort of dancing. All that flinging about.
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But that's back home; they're here now, for whatever it's worth. They're here, where Aziraphale just keeps touching him, and he's almost forgotten about the perfume, distracted by how nice it is, how long he's been thinking about this.
He's still nervous about what will come next for them here, and he's worried about all the various things he'll have to explain eventually (his sort of friendship with Lilith, the whole thing with Martin) but he can tell they're both on edge, and they'll end up a feedback loop of anxiety if they get too into it right now.]
Oh, for someone's sake, I'm not that much of an idiot. Obviously I mean proper dancing.
[If it wasn't already clear how in love he is, the fact that he doesn't fuss about the phrase disky sort of dancing makes it quite apparent. That whole love this is what makes him bold enough to smooth his hands down Aziraphale's chest, fingers skimming over that bloody faded velvet waistcoat that he's dreamt about touching for decades, until they can settle on the angel's waist.]
I — is this alright?
[Even sort of forgetting about the effects of the perfume, physical affection is still new for them. He doesn't want to overstep.]
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[It's more than alright, the idea of a proper dance. It has been such a long time since he has enjoyed himself that way, and now he's quite glad that he'd made it known to Crowley, that he'd gone and done something just for himself, joined that gentleman's club and learnt the Gavotte. It's the sort of thing his side never had any appreciation for. They'd have just given him looks, pained looks. Gabriel was the worst of all for that.
It's so cosy talking like this, close with soft touches. He could just do it indefinitely. Why had he never before? Oh, he supposes he knows why. It was far too dangerous, and he'd always been under the impression he wouldn't want it. He'd give him that sneer of his, or hiss and balk. Say something hurtful.
Wait, he asked him a question. He blinks at him a little surprised, more than a little confused.]
Is what alright? You're the one who...
[Isn't he? He has the oddest feeling he has forgotten something. Can't be that important.]
Let's not overthink, hmm? Aren't you always telling me I overthink thinks?
[A little cajoling. Does he dare? He runs his finger lightly down the tattoo at the side of his face with the look of someone getting away with something he probably shouldn't. The look asks the same question silently. Is this alright?]
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I am, because you do, but that's not — [That's not what this is.] I'm trying not to overstep a boundary here, angel.
[A lot has changed in the past half hour, their relationship has been carefully built on centuries and centuries of learning each other's quirks and wants and habits, figuring out where the lines were drawn on certain issues, testing out careful boundaries. That's all gone out the window now, and they should likely talk about what it means for them, but right now he just wants to make sure he doesn't do anything that isn't wanted.]
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What if we worry about all of that later? If I fuss, remind me that I said this now.
[It sounds like a decent compromise to him. Sensible. He'd have to be terribly unreasonable to hold something against him he told him was fine. He likes to think he is not terribly unreasonable.]
You can take me to my new flat. I haven't been yet. I want to see it.
no subject
Alright, later, then.
[They can talk about what this is, what it means. But he'll leave it for now, choosing to raise an eyebrow, instead.]
Feeling a bit bossy, are we? Couldn't even manage a please in there, they really picked your designation right. [Which is — a whole other thing, but a whole other thing for later.] What floor are you on? We can pop over for a visit.
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[All of this said while lightly running his hands over his shoulders, down his lapels. It's such a smooth suit. He always does look smooth and put together. Sleek. Except for his few unfortunate facial hair choices through the decades.
He tells him the floor and once more hooks his arms around the one, only this time he's pressed in a good bit closer.]
Thank you.
[Exaggerated.]
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You've been a servant of the Almighty, s'a bit different, isn't it? I've a hard time imagining you submitting to anyone. [This wouldn't be funny at all if Aziraphale had been marked, but it's easier to joke now.] And you're hardly in charge of whoever you contract with, no matter what rubbish the city tries to sell.
[He's sure that someone people see it that way, but Crowley refuses to, and he's sure Aziraphale will feel the same.
But for now, he lays a hand over Aziraphale's, and uses a miracle to move to the hallway of the provided apartments.]
Here we are.
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[He makes a soft, ambiguous sound.]
Thank Heaven for that. Can you imagine me trying to take charge of a human? A bit like you with your houseplants, minus the yelling.
[How does one care for a human that way? It seems rather more messy than he's signed up for. His expression shifts prim when Crowley transports them like that, his sniff expressive.
Yet it doesn't seem he makes use of a key in opening the door. He steps in and stops a few steps inside just to stand and look. Turn a full circle. His mouth purses into a moue of distaste.]
It's so...so...open.
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But also, Aziraphale is right about one thing.]
This right here is why I was the nanny.
[It isn't especially important, though.
One they're in the apartment, he gives Aziraphale a little space to look around, lips quirking with amusement at his assessment.]
It's modern, angel. You don't have to stay if you'd rather something else, I've a good real estate agent, used her a few times and everything's gone smoothly with it.
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[He was rubbish as a gardener, too, except for the fact that the flowers bloomed riotously and there were always birds. So many birds.
He sighs and reaches out a hand to him. The very short amount of time they've disengaged is intolerable. He's finding as long as there's some touch, it's not the painful, insistent drive, a new balance point.]
I'll have to, won't I? I can't stay here. I don't need all of this, just somewhere to put on a kettle and keep a few books.
[He doesn't need a bed or a kitchen, he thinks. Or all of the glass and shininess that reminds him unpleasantly of corporate up top.]
no subject
A few books will end up needing a blasted mansion, knowing you.
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[It was bad enough wearing that insulting shirt earlier.
He continues to walk the place, drawn forward by the pull of the hallway to open various doors as they come, all the way to the master bedroom and its huge bed.]
A lie down would be nice. Such an exhausting day. You know, I honestly can't remember the last time I took a proper sleep?
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