rubimods: (Default)
rubilykskoye mods ([personal profile] rubimods) wrote in [community profile] rubimemes2024-02-07 11:31 pm
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TEST DRIVE MEME 005

⚰︎ ⍢ ⌲ ⍚ TEST DRIVE MEME:
Welcome to RUBILYKSKOYE — a dark, horror-smut game where player choices will drive a mod-run storyline about the world and its NPCs. This test drive meme provides a medley of prompts evoking the game's general tone.

THESE THREADS CAN BE GAME CANON if both players are accepted into the game and agree to it. However, if players who'd prefer to start fresh are welcome to reuse these prompts in their own personal logs upon acceptance into the communities. Note: the universal test drive arrival prompt will not be repeated on the any event log, but players are welcome to reuse the prompt.

CONTENT WARNINGS for this game include: monsters, body horror, dub-con, non-con, religion, blood/violence, and marking/branding, loss of autonomy/self, and mental influences. This log additionally has warnings for: spiders, aphrodisiac and truth serum effects, public nudity, exhibitionism/voyeurism, bdsm, kink negotiation, social pressure, and animal sacrifice.

If you have QUESTIONS about the test drive prompts, please ask HERE. Questions about the game itself or the general setting should be directed to the FAQ.

FAQSETTINGCALENDARRESERVESAPPLICATIONS

IN THE WOODS SOMEWHERE

The chirping of partridges in the treetops rouses you. Light barely filters through the canopy, just enough to suggest daylight. By the time it reaches the forest floor, the light has taken on a sickly green. You lie amongst the frost-covered mosses and ferns, the frozen soil cold and just a little damp on your bare skin.

Wherever you were before this moment, whatever you were doing or wearing, when you awaken in this forest, you find yourself naked and helpless as the day you were born. As you sit up and get your bearings, aside from a brief wave of disoriented nausea, you seem to be no worse for wear than you last remember.

You seem to be alone. The gnarled oaks and moss suggest no sign of civilization or sentient life. Just flickers of movement from curious squirrels or brave lizards reemerging after a long winter. With your feet under you, and you'll find the wood is filled with berry bushes and nut trees, though much of the fruit has been picked clean. The freshwater stream that runs north-south, populated by both poisonous toads and delicious crawdads, will lead people towards the first signs of civilisation, the cabins of those who choose to live beyond Rubilyskoye's formidable walls.

In the forest, you may run into others with stories just like yours. Some may have already formed clumsy nudist groups, others may still be processing their confusion, with no memory of how they got here. Now is a good time to overcome any hang-ups you have about modesty; it's going to be a long hike.

Turn your back to the darker, shadowy parts of the forest and eventually the glow of manmade lights and the curve of a dirt road may come into view. At the edge of the wood, you'll find a town surrounded by a fifty-foot wall of beige stone. The only entrance is an iron gate positioned on the southern edge. When you arrive, the gate is already open, welcoming people inside.

This quaint, historic town of five-thousand has cobbled street and signs lit by gas lamp. Wooden shutters protect otherwise open-air windows on the buildings, which are all under three stories with gabled roofs. A number of businesses hug the main street — a clockmaker, a cobbler, a grocer — while residential homes sprawl outwards towards the wall. At the far end of the main street, visible about a mile to the north now that the trees and the enormous wall is out of the way, sits a castle with three towers.

When you enter, the streets are full of people, but despite any efforts on your part to hide or make excuses, they don't seem offended by your nakedness. Even families with children don't gawk or look twice. Those determined to find proper clothing regardless will find that modern clothing stores aren't available — the closest this town has is a tailor's shop and a stand in the central marketplace selling scarves and blankets.

breaking and entering
If you intend to have your character break into someone's house or yard to steal some of their clean laundry, please review the info about game laws on the FAQ and give the mods a heads up HERE.



Fortunately, the people of the town are very generous! Anyone who ask the locals will be directed to the boarding house for both clothes and a place to stay. Accessible through an embellished iron garden gate and obscured by hanging plants, trees, and vines, beyond an overgrown yard in the residential sprawl of the town is a bright-red door, which opens to a spacious cottage of several stories. It's already full of people who appeared in the village just as you did today.

finding roommates
Don't spend too much time asking questions in the common areas. You'll want to claim a bedroom quickly because each one only has two full-size beds, and there aren't enough spaces for everyone. Maybe you'll get lucky and run into someone who has decided to move out? (Roommates will not be mod-assigned; players should coordinate directly with one another to determine their living arrangements; at this point, many characters have used activity rewards to move to accomodation outside the boarding house.)


Get a good night's rest. By the light of day, locals will help get the new arrivals set up on the coal stove with a breakfast of thick grain porridge and caramelised bananas from the new peaks; these NPCs can also answer any questions about the situation. You may notice they're dressed in a way you would almost call normal — at least, in a manner befitting 19th century Eastern Europe. Gossip about new arrivals spreads quickly, and Rubeans who run businesses or train trades are eager to help you find a place to apply your skills so you can contribute to your new home.


writer's block?
If you're struggling to pick a way to engage the prompts, try: naked hiking, acquiring clothing, being offered work, asking questions over breakfast, or staking your claim on a bedroom!



HEARTS FESTIVAL

New arrivals to Rubilykskoye will find themselves strongly encouraged to participate in the current zadza purging festival, and will be assigned either a collar in leather or iron based on their Niez or Wilk mark, or a wrist-strap or manacle that suits the attachment of a leash for those with a Diabel or Skala mark.

Characters are encouraged to embrace this temporary designation as a sign that they will be good citizens; those who object or ignore their designation may find the NPCs try to helpfully guide them, express displeasure at "Void-Touched" who won't assimilate, or in rare cases exert social pressure, coercion, violence or shunning to ensure compliance.

Throughout town various NPCs have set up tents and booths to host myriad performances, workshops, demonstrations, and food stands for their celebration. The foods were made using some of the new flora that have brought back from the peaks. Characters can get their hands on the following heart-themed foods from the second day of the festival onwards:

  • HEART-SHAPED COOKIES: eating these intensifies body heat, making characters a great cuddle buddy for the cold weather and likely to strip down, feeling overheated even in a snowdrift

  • BEEF HEART STEW WITH DUXELLES: eating these fills those who consume it with confidence, making them more solicitous and dominant

  • LIME-GLAZED GOAT HEART SATAY: eating these intensifies sensation, making characters more sensitive to both pain and pleasure

  • CINNAMON GLUWEIN: drinking a cup of this hot beverage will make characters especially honest

The nature of the booths set up for performances, workshops, and other goods focuses around the festival's dominance and submission themes. These persist throughout the day regardless of the hour or the audience, so very few people can be found consistently at their places of work during the day this week. In addition:
  • Skala and diabel NPCs may offer to share their partner(s) with the Void-touched, or ask to share theirs.

  • PIOTR, a farmer, brings tools over from the farm including bridles and saddles, which can be found at a booth near some hunters who've made anal plugs that end with real animal tails, as well as muzzles.

  • The cages from the Moot Hall have been moved into the streets, and people are allowed to move freely in and out of them. One of them has been covered in curtains to function as a glory hole booth.

  • Some niez and wilk NPCs line up near the main event stage and kneel to offer themselves as human furniture.

However, characters may also come across some carnival games operated by NPCs who are eager to help the Duchess find her heart! Some involve slaughtering livestock by removing their hearts—rest assured, these livestock were already on the menu, but their ritual sacrifice will now involve the cutting out of their hearts. Cut out an animal's heart yourself, or just attend the show! Many of the townspeople will get into it, painting their faces with animal blood or drinking from it.

writer's block?
If you're struggling to pick a way to engage the prompts, try reacting to being assigned a dominant or submissive role, scenes where your character is starting to feel the effects of the food, watching (or participating in) a performance, or joining in on a gory animal sacrifice. NPCs that are usually welcoming may strongly pressure even new arrivals to participate in their cultural festivities.


the fathomless dark

At the outer edges of the forest, shadows grow long and the air grows thick. Though the sun never grows warm red-gold with sunset, the wood darkens. Birdsong is replaced by the click of mandibles and the skitter of many legs. Anyone who ventures out this way will soon find it difficult to see before them, even in the middle of the day — eventually, even the brightest magical light source or darkvision cannot stretch further than a few inches.

In the void, the air feels heavy, as if it were not air at all but some more solid mass. Almost like liquid-smoke, it presses down upon you. Slowing your movements. Characters who push too far into the void may stop being able to move at all, and find themselves given over to insanity if they collapse, unable to draw themselves out. This is just one of many dangers.

Monsters thrive this far out. Huge, blood-red spiders the size of hunting dogs drop from the treetops. In addition to their venomous bite, which contains a fast-acting paralytic, these creatures are clever: they attempt to use their webbing to entangle any trespassers, binding limbs together or to trees. If you're unfortunate to become fully cocooned, you don't have long before this forest will be the last thing you see.


Those who seem lucky enough not to run afoul of the monsters here are in for a worse fate. The void can play tricks on your senses. As madness sets in and you lose all sense of direction, you may also lose control of your body — what is that steers your hands to turn against your friends? Why does it sound like your own voice whispering?

In the fog, you may also hear the voices of those familiar to you — people you know from the town, or people whom you know with almost perfect certainty aren't here. these figments may recreate unhappy memories or force trespassers to hallucinate their worst nightmares. Nothing is as it seems in the void, and when you swing at these figments, desperate to silence them, it might not be a figment at all, but a friend in the flesh trying to help you. By the time you see their true face, it could be too late to stop yourself.

writer's block?
If you're struggling to pick a way to engage the prompts, try fighting a monster, hallucinating your worst nightmares, and/or attacking a friend or stranger!


HIDING INSIDE EACH OF US

Uh oh spaghetti-os.

The marks worn by all residents of Rubilykskoye aren't just cool body art, as it turns out. The town is full of rumors, whispered in shadows and over candles of a starving creature hiding in the dark corners of your chest. Feed your inner beast, they say, before it finds a way to feed itself.


Alas, its emergence is inevitable — sooner or later, the horrible things that happen here pile up and make someone repulsed by the idea of human contact. Someone holds themselves back, bites their tongue, or simply does not believe the stories. Today, for one reason or another, that creature is coming out. Someone hasn't been keeping it sated.

Symptoms escalate over weeks, from monstrous irritability to full-blown body horror transformation, where people physically shed their human forms and evolve into the monsters this place made them. Once a person becomes something more (or less) than human there's only one way to go back — sate the beast.

someone else transforms
Poor Merta Chesnokov, the usually stalwart older woman who mans the Apothecary, has been beset by unusual requests in addition to her regular demands, not to mention sweating blood. The festival, a rash of skala blood flu, and a little extra town chaos in January, has brought a high demand to her little shop. Now there's also a local fashion springing up for teas and herbal remedies sourced from the recently revealed tropical mountains.

After another failed tisane test drive, and the third customer asking for a new kind of aphrodisiac to add to their festival food, she was seen tossing down her work knife with uncharacteristic frustration, and taking an "early lunch" that she didn't return from that night. Though her children, friends and employees reach out to her, there's no sign of her until you stumble upon her in the woods.

Merta overboils with her suppressed fury as her body distorts and her flesh blackens and crusts. Her attempts to hold off her transformation have failed, and Merta turns into a Smoldering Skink, a large repillian creature whose thick scales hold back her magmatic insides. The noise she makes is an unhearthly hissing scream like a boiling kettle, and she attempts to vent her pent-up stress by wildly attacking everything in sight. Immediately, the surroundings catch aflame! There will be a small fire eating at the dead wood of a long winter if it's not put out, but your first priority might have to be fielding a stampeding lizard with massive teeth and burning hot scales...

(There are other monsters lurking in every townsperson — feel free to invent your own npc monsters and scenarios!)


you waited too long
At first, as you hide yourself from your darker impulses, a subtle itch develops under your skin. An irritability that makes you snap at the person who bumps into you on the stairs because all those fleeting emotions that you've been repressing bubble to the surface. Every dark thought you've had about being here, all the fears of never getting home, of being surrounded by ticking time bombs, the anxiety of wondering who you might hurt or what relationships you might betray by doing what you have to do. The anger. Oh, the anger.

Maybe you shut yourself in your room or run into the woods to hide away, but there's only so much you can do to deny the itch that grows into hunger like a spark catching and growing to wildfire. Someone comes to check on you. That knock on the door or crunch of leaves in the wood that fills you with dread at what you might do and hope that you will be sated.

As claws and fangs and scales and spines and fur grow and your body transforms with a sickening crunch of bones and peeling of skin, so do your appetites. If you won't sate them, you'll lose yourself to your beastly impulses sooner or later, mauling friends and taking your fill. Is it better or worse if only your claws get inside of them?
princess_of_ida: (27)

[personal profile] princess_of_ida 2024-02-07 03:25 pm (UTC)(link)
"You'll need to be more specific," Ianthe replied, taking his hand in hers. Golden phalanges gripped the end of the splinter and necromancy allowed it to be pulled out smoothly, without pain or pieces breaking off. Blood welled up, the scent of industry growing thicker, but then stopped as Ianthe had it clot and stop.

"The large spiders, giant snakes, large insects, and yeti are local fauna. The monsters are very noticeable. Unique and aggressive. Powerful." She rubbed his blood between her fingers. "It's possible with the recent tropical area discovered there are more dangerous fauna, but they haven't come down into the woods."
minuteofangle: (105)

Gabe Rodriguez | Original | Diabel

[personal profile] minuteofangle 2024-02-07 03:27 pm (UTC)(link)
ooc: sci-fi space pirate with adaptive tech.

Boarding House (cw: eye trauma, internalized ableism)

[ Well, life sure comes at a man fast, doesn’t it? This isn’t the first time Gabe’s woken up naked and disoriented somewhere he didn’t intend, but the details: oh, those are nagging at him. Those are digging into the corners of his soul. He made it out of the woods bare ass naked and into something resembling civilization, but he doesn’t know this place. Doesn’t recognize the accents the people are speaking with or the context to half the nonsense they’re sharing. Not getting a bullet through his head or a knife pressed to his throat is nice, but not especially comforting as far as resolutions go.

That, and his prosthetics are gone. His skull’s got no eyes, and his armor’s long gone: no mask to hide the damage, to conceal that tiny little detail Gabe guards jealously close to his soul. Anyone could look at his face and know. And in knowing, they’ll start making judgement calls.

He gets dressed in borrowed clothes, in the meantime. There’s a coat with a deep hood and he pulls that down over his face, angling his head to hide the worst of it in shadow, and he plants himself in a chair by the fire with a little bit of paper he begged off a local. They like tradespeople around here and he talked a big game about showing them something special.

So, he’s folding paper flowers. And listening, and not thinking about the fun new tattoo on the side of his neck. ]


You new? [ he’ll drawl to whoever happens to wander close. He’s got a big stick he’s been using as a cane propped up by his chair, but he’s careful—so very careful—to keep his face as hidden as he can with the hood. His tech is working so far, but that’s a detail he intends to keep to himself. ]

Roommates

[ But, since he really doesn’t want to rough it out in the woods with no gear, the time comes to find some place to bunk. He’ll push a door open, leaning his hip against it with a careless grin—on the surface, at least. He keeps the hood pulled as low over his face as he can possibly bluff through. ]

Hi. Occupied?

Festival (cw: eye trauma, internalized ableism)

[ Crowds are either fun as fuck or a goddamn nightmare and little in between. Gabe isn’t certain where this one falls just yet—though on the bright side, he’s bargained his way into a pair of ye olde sunglasses from the local craftsmen so his eyes don’t look so abjectly fucked. It’s enough armor that he’s ventured out to get his bearings.

And, apparently, to listen to animals getting their hearts cut off.

His eyebrows lift. ]


Damn. They usually this freaky?

[ He’s managed to avoid getting noticed by the locals—for now. ]

Wildcard

[ Hit me up at [plurk.com profile] mirrorfaded if you’re in the mood for something specific! ]
princess_of_ida: (69)

[personal profile] princess_of_ida 2024-02-07 03:31 pm (UTC)(link)
I get it, but being seen with me will really help you out. I'm the city's Deathwarden.

[She chuckled a little.]

I'm on vacation right now, so currently obligation free. I'm Ianthe Naberius. Let's walk and talk.
omertae: do they have a silly little walk i can make fun of (• i think about others all the time.)

angelo salucci — original character.

[personal profile] omertae 2024-02-07 03:32 pm (UTC)(link)
001. boarding house.
[ Waking up naked in a forest full of spiders is one thing, but expecting him to share a room with strangers is taking this abduction entirely too far. Out of sheer unbridled stubbornness, Angelo has decided that he's not kowtowing to any of this bullshit: his first night in the boarding house is spent in a slightly lumpy armchair, arms crossed over his chest as if he's daring anyone to tell him he's being ridiculous, even while he's sleeping.

His back's killing him the next morning. Might've been an idea to just suck it up and find a room to share, but – god, he just does not want to fucking do that. Stretching awkwardly, scowling, he creaks up out of the armchair and shuffles outside, hands in the pockets of his new tailored trousers. Whether on the way or actually outside, he spots someone else. ]


Hey. D'you smoke?

[ He has a heavy Long Island accent and a fairly unapproachable air, but he did reach out first, at least. ]

002. hearts festival.
[ Festivals and parties aren't exactly Angelo's thing, but this is a brand new place and he's not gonna pass up the opportunity to see what these people get up to when they're meant to be celebrating. He's barely taken in the cacophony of things happening around him before someone's grabbed his arm and tied a strap around his wrist; he's almost, almost pissed about it, until he notices that there are others who've been saddled with collars. He thinks if someone had tried that on him, he would've beaten the shit out of them before they could get the collar around his neck.

He cuts an extremely sallow, unimpressed figure at the festival, loping from attraction to attraction but always hovering at the fringes, brow furrowed. But he finally manages to crack a smile at the display of sex toys; he sincerely can't help himself, as he picks up a plug sprouting an animal tail, from snorting a laugh. ]


Is this for fuckin' real?

[ OOC — i'm also happy to do something with the stew, the satay or the gluwein; if you want to go in this direction, lmk and i can set something up! m/m only for smut. ]

003. network.
[ Once Angelo understands how this communication system works, it's not at all difficult for him to get to grips with it. For someone already intimately familiar with getting in other people's heads, it comes easily and quickly. He quite likes it, too. More convenient than texting. ]

I need someone to test something out on. A volunteer. Can't pay you, but someone here's gotta be the altruistic type. Maybe you wanna do it out of the goodness of your heart. [ A deliberate pause which almost sounds like he's finished, but then he abruptly continues: ] Won't take long and I promise it won't hurt if you're not a pussy about it.

[ Okay, now he's done. ]

004. wildcard.
[ hmu via PM or at [plurk.com profile] crowders if you want to do something else! ]
moondregs: (were spent on ones more beautiful)

network

[personal profile] moondregs 2024-02-07 03:32 pm (UTC)(link)
The mental capslock sadly doesn't work. Italics either.
princess_of_ida: (Default)

Network

[personal profile] princess_of_ida 2024-02-07 03:36 pm (UTC)(link)
I'm not altruistic, but I am bored. Give me the second pitch.
omertae: (• don't need no advice)

boarding house!

[personal profile] omertae 2024-02-07 03:44 pm (UTC)(link)
Wouldn't you like to know.

[ Not exactly the most sophisticated response, but Angelo's pissed off and grumpy and he feels stranded, for some reason, so he's not exactly in the friendliest of moods. He'd wandered in here with no real idea of where he was going; he feels listless, without purpose, like he's abruptly run out of road. His life's been upended, moved a few steps to the left, with all the grace of an explosion, and right now he's stuck at the second stage of grief about it. He's always at the second stage of grief.

Angelo slouches over to a nearby wall to lean against it, one hand locking against his hip, watching the guy's hands because they're moving, and they've caught his gaze. ]


What're you doing?
nospecialhurry: (headache)

[personal profile] nospecialhurry 2024-02-07 03:44 pm (UTC)(link)
Magic. Why does it always have to be magic? Why can't it be snakes or something reasonable like that?

"If it's a curse, there has to be a source. A physical object. A trigger event. I...hmm." He flexes his hand. The drops of blood that had turned to smoke around his ankles continue to twine around his legs. "Forgive me, I'm not at my best right now. I should've introduced myself before ..."

"Percival Fredrickstein von Musel Klossowski de Rolo III. But most people just go with Percy."
omertae: (• nothing can break me down)

[personal profile] omertae 2024-02-07 03:48 pm (UTC)(link)
[ Oh, they can do writing too. Angelo decides to give it a go. ]

Was the first one not enough for you?
minuteofangle: (027)

[personal profile] minuteofangle 2024-02-07 03:53 pm (UTC)(link)
That does tend to be how conversations go.

[ It comes out in a drawl again, the hint of a sharper accent underneath the smoothness of his tone. Gabe’s deliberate in how he angles his head, how he moves his hands with the paper. It’s not the kind he’s used to working with but needs fucking must and all that.

The folds come smooth, every motion controlled and calm. He creases them with his nails, the steps long since memorized. Human eye’s attracted to movement, to shiny shit. Give people something to look at and their gaze will naturally drift toward it: the sharp creases of an origami rose, the way the ink on his hands flexes and shifts through the folds. ]


Whole give and take kinda deal.
omertae: (• every day is a chore‚ chore‚ chore)

[personal profile] omertae 2024-02-07 04:07 pm (UTC)(link)
[ Angelo purses his lips, eyes narrowing a little. He wants a cigarette; that's a near-constant state of being for him, not just out of habit but because he wants something to do with his hands, something to hold and roll between his fingers. He feels fidgety, wants to move. He stays very still.

He always hates it when people act like they know more than him, when they withhold things from him, especially when he deigns to ask. He drums his fingertips on his hip for a moment, considering whether or not he should stoop to it, but he actually is curious. And talking to people probably isn't a stupid idea, as long as he can keep a head on his thread-thin temper. ]


That explains pretty much nothing, bud. [ A beat, and he leans a little closer, his eyes still on those dextrously moving fingers. ] What is it, origami?
minuteofangle: (002)

[personal profile] minuteofangle 2024-02-07 04:15 pm (UTC)(link)
[ Gabe hums, an amused sound rumbling low in his throat. Not quite laughter. He finishes the last fold and seals it with his nails, holding it up as if for inspection. ]

Locals talk a big game about staying useful. And you know what they say about idle hands.

[ He doesn’t know a thing about this man, which makes him a threat. And threats have to be understood. Gabe’s always had a tendency to push, push, push, sink his teeth into a moment to make sense of it. He wonders at the accent, the way this man holds himself. What’s your story, motherfucker? ]
killsyourdarlings: (【 35 】)

eddie gluskin / outlast / diabel

[personal profile] killsyourdarlings 2024-02-07 04:21 pm (UTC)(link)
cw | opt-out | permissions

naked around the produce

( Regardless of this town's cavalier attitude towards exhibitionism, Eddie is, nonetheless, horrified by his undignified nature in the face of the public. It was trouble enough mucking about in those woods, naked for all to see, allowing himself to become caught and scraped on any number of thistle and bush, but this? This is unseemly. There are children about, for the love of God!

Eddie is an unbelievably tall man, so hiding himself away is a task to be sure. He's keeping himself pressed to buildings and doing his best to preserve whatever shred of modesty might remain. )


Excuse me.

( He's whispering to you from between a potted plant and a stall selling fresh fruit, crouched down and looking about for eyes that, really, don't exist. No one is looking at him. No one cares. But Eddie cares! Just because he doesn't feel eyes on him doesn't mean they aren't there. )

If I may be so bold as to trouble you... Can you assist me in finding some proper clothing?

( Even improper clothing would do. Eddie knows he won't be able to tailor himself a suit right here and now: there's no time for that. He'll settle for low-slung jeans and those abhorrent basketball jerseys if he must! Just give him something! )


feeling festive

cw: misogyny

( The wrist strap, he finds, is the lesser of offenses considering what could have been assigned to him. He feels sorry for the sods walking around in collars, but not that sorry. He's not sorry enough to pity them or anything, just enough to look down upon them and feel, for some reason, a sense of superiority.

When heart-themed foods are offered, he opts for the cinnamon drink because it smells the most enticing. Not seconds later, he begins letting loose. )


I don't care much for this sordid affair. ( Well, that's something he'd likely say with or without the influence of an honesty potion. ) A town that lauds those who present themselves like whores, it's disgusting.

( There's the Eddie that we know and love[?].

Despite his disgust, Eddie eventually gets into the swing of things. When random townies offer themselves as furniture around the main stage, he doesn't hesitate to kicks his feet up and use the back of some local woman as a footrest. Yes, this feels right. She's in her place, as she should be. It's a little more extreme than he'd engage with in ordinary life, but if a woman is offering herself as a subservient being, she's right to do so.

The next time someone, man or woman, comes close to him, Eddie looks curious. )


Have you come to take her place? Very well. Run along now, Darling. ( He shoos away the woman kneeling before him and invites the new person closer, whether they intended to be a footstool or not. )


oops!
(network)

cw: misogyny



She will be mine and mine alone. No other man shall mar her skin. Her heart beats for me as mine does for her. We will be one. Her blood pumps for no other. Look at the way she creams her flesh, soft fingers smoothing lotion over lanes of pale beauty—

—Ah, fuck, did she spot me?

...No? No, she knows nothing. Carry on, my love. Continue bathing yourself in the light of day. This windowpane is all that separates us.

But has she been touched by another, I wonder. She mustn't've. If she has, she's spoiled. She's no good. She's rotten to the core! She's a filthy, hideous whore! She should burn, and I'll be the one to set her ablaze!


( Get this psycho off the network!!! )
nixed: (047)

roomie

[personal profile] nixed 2024-02-07 04:24 pm (UTC)(link)
The guy lying on his back with an arm slung over his eyes is only half-asleep, the other hand resting on a decently defined, naked torso, trousers and boots still on. He hasn't changed — let alone washed — since the graveyard shift as one of the watchers, something he thought he wouldn't need to worry about until the next day's evening. Or noon, if he decided to get up early.

It's not just that smell that might offend her senses when he lifts his arm and squints at her, one eyebrow quirked; there's the mark of a witch on every inch of his skin, what used to be a buried corpse revived to its prime, protected yet bound by an unnatural ingredient in his blood. Not one person has heard of priv-blood, here, and he's guessing whoever just barged in won't be an exception. That moment of silence demonstrates more of a what is it now than who the fuck is this, and after a sigh, Helios finally props himself up on his elbows.

"I'd be real upset if I snored, too." Whatever that means. Searching the room with his eyes, though he hasn't yet figured out what he's looking for, "I like the shoes."

A small, ironic ice breaker, just to see what she does with the pieces.
nospecialhurry: (headache)

[personal profile] nospecialhurry 2024-02-07 04:25 pm (UTC)(link)
"Thank you." Percy takes his own meal and sits down across from Will. For what it's worth, he has something approaching good manners, and won't intrude on Will's space any more than he needs to.

Will is welcome to notice all manner of curious things about Percy: a bit fussy about how he dresses himself, he prefers to keep his gloves on whenever possible, but will take them off to eat. There is a fine spray of tiny burn marks and embedded black powder over the backs of his hands - some new, some old, but most are almost healed. He holds himself as if he's eating at a much finer table, but isn't bothered in the slightest eating whatever's been served.
ghostface: the red road (2015) (pic#16563714)

network

[personal profile] ghostface 2024-02-07 04:30 pm (UTC)(link)
( bruh. )

you ain't gonna find too many tight little virgins here, pal.
killsyourdarlings: (【 56 】)

[personal profile] killsyourdarlings 2024-02-07 04:34 pm (UTC)(link)
Her 'tightness' is of no object to me.
hislittleflower: (121 (Happy) Chaos Gremlin)

Peony Emeline 'Ambrosia' Blythe - Original - Diabel

[personal profile] hislittleflower 2024-02-07 04:49 pm (UTC)(link)
Boarding House

"No, no, no. You're failing to understand the gravity of the situation, sir." The diminutive woman was arguing with one of the villagers questioning her about potential skills and talents. "I have minimal intention of staying here long enough to require work." It was bad enough that she was bundled up in such rough fabric. Peony had snatched the first bedsheet she'd caught sight of and headed straight to argue with any point of authority she could find, leaves and twigs still adorning her waist-length blonde hair. She pinched the bridge of her nose and rearranged her blanket so that her arm was free.

"Excuse me, sweetness--" Peony reached out and touched the arm of a stranger passing by, leaning on her beguiling influence to pull softness and admiration from her target. Her doe eyes were green and begging for a big strong hero to come save her. Her fairie guile laid on thick in the hope of getting what she needed. "I'm getting nowhere with this gentleman. Might you be able to accompany me to the nearest temple or cleric? I have urgent business elsewhere and I am in desperate need of assistance."

Hearts Festival

"Don't you have a prettier cuff?" It's a reasonable question; by Peony's standards. She's willing to go with the peculiar custom - beats the hell out of what she had been dealing with in Barovia - and had willingly offered out her arm when she was told to. "Perhaps in gold or platinum? I would accept white gold if I must. But this isn't..." She grimaced and see-sawed her hand. "I absolutely cannot have iron on my skin. I'm...allergic?" Well, it would sicken her. But she didn't need to draw attention to that.

Once the matter with the cuff was sorted out, Peony was happy to watch the performances and eye all the different types of instruments they had available to them and the peculiar themes. At one point she tuts and leans over to another person watching; "I mean, do you even really believe the dynamic between them? I'm not getting the chemistry here."

Wildcard

It is entirely possible that while you're minding your own business you might come to feel you're being watched. In the dead of night, reflective green eyes might follow you out of the gloom, during the day there might be a train of blonde hair that doesn't quite make it around a corner as Peony attempts and fails to hide her presence. What is she stalking random people for? You'll have to catch her to find out.
Edited 2024-02-07 16:50 (UTC)
princess_of_ida: (Default)

[personal profile] princess_of_ida 2024-02-07 04:50 pm (UTC)(link)
"According to legend, the source of the curse is the Void after a man lasen with jealousy and kust disappeared into it. When he emerged, he and all were cursed. It manifests on the locals at puberty, and it's through the satiation of zadza - violent or sexual urges - that soothes the monster back to sleep." At least that was the bare bones explanation.

Ianthe was not going to bother even attempting to remember that name. Percy was good enough. "Ianthe Naberius. I'm the Deathwarden of Rubilykskoye." She lifted her fingers as she watched the blood waft away. "Are you normally smokey?
princess_of_ida: (Default)

[personal profile] princess_of_ida 2024-02-07 04:51 pm (UTC)(link)
The first one was intriguing. A teaser. Give me the trailer.
femininerage: (012)

[personal profile] femininerage 2024-02-07 04:52 pm (UTC)(link)
The almost-nakedness of her top-half ceases its itching around the same time he agrees with her that snoring would be terrible. That’s good; she likes that. Both the non-itching and that they are on the same page. She thinks she will only tolerate snoring from Paul now, or perhaps John, at a push. Certainly not from a stranger.

Her attention shifts to her shoes with him. She kicks her legs out to examine the tattered leather, the faded embroidery and the pulled out stitchings. She beams, very pleased. “Oh, yes! I thought so too. They look very old, don’t they? Like someone has loved them for a long time. Sometimes people forget to love old things, so I suppose I’ll love these shoes until all the stitching comes out.” Her legs swing back down, and Alecto, curious, eyes the mess of Helios’s flesh.

It takes her a moment to smell the rot. It’s a different rot than the rot from home, but necromantic rot is still rot and her faces does something odd, like she’s frowning and trying hard to be polite about it. “You’re a zombie,” she says, after a long moment. “A different kind. Not as neat. Someone’s drawn all over you to keep you moving.”

She blinks, once. Then, adds: “If you manage to snore in that state I’ll actually be very impressed!”
femininerage: (004)

[personal profile] femininerage 2024-02-07 04:53 pm (UTC)(link)
THIS IS JUST HOW I THINK

MY THOUGHTS ARE VERY IMPORTANT WHEN I CHOOSE TO HAVE THEM YOU SEE
femininerage: (011)

[personal profile] femininerage 2024-02-07 04:55 pm (UTC)(link)
AUGUSTINE!! I AM NOT A CHICKEN AND YOU KNOW THIS

HONESTLY WHEN HAVE YOU EVER SEEN ME CLUCK
BAD AUGUSTINE
10000000 YEARS JAIL FOR AUGUSTINE


(I HAVE BEEN REMEMBERING MEMES LATELY TOO)
pharmacy: (153)

— feeling festive . gluhwein

[personal profile] pharmacy 2024-02-07 04:56 pm (UTC)(link)
Unclench. [ One collared sod suggests amicably, sparing Eddie an amused glance up before he takes a sip from his own freshly-filled mug. The pink on his cheeks suggests this isn't the first, but he's still steady and sharp-eyed as he looks all around them. It's a kind of avoidance borne not out of deference--but out of not wanting to put an obviously uptight guy on the spot too much. ] We love our whores here. You keep talking like that, you're gonna call down heat that you do not want.

[ His gaze comes back up to Eddie boldly, right hand extend crossbody towards him. ] Quentin Smith. You have gotta be new. When did you land?
ghostface: blood quantum (2019) (pic#16545046)

[personal profile] ghostface 2024-02-07 04:56 pm (UTC)(link)
oh, so you're flexible. a roomy cunt by itself ain't justifiable enough cause for lighting a bitch up, but a man putting his dick in her roomy cunt is?

how many dicks does it take to spoil a woman? just one? two?