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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?
hislittleflower: (045 (Sad) Confronted)

[personal profile] hislittleflower 2024-02-15 10:32 am (UTC)(link)
He literally gave me a tour of the crypts. And inside I'm like, are you intimidating me or proposing? Like, oh, come be my eternally immortal side-piece while I stalk your friend, Peony. No thank you.

[She rolls her eyes hard at the memory of that encounter.

But, his question give her pause.]


I don't actually know. I woke up naked in the woods a few days back. Still finding my feet here. [Although...Peony hesitates for a moment before deciding, eh, fuck it. She lowers her tone slightly, leaning forward so their conversation is more private.] It sounds like some of the visitors like us are trying to find ways out but it's a taboo topic. I spent the last few days trying to find a spellcaster powerful enough and there's some serious material components we'd need to cast it.

And I'm not a wizard. Got no brain for sitting still and reading books.
ebrius: (wfsdcd)

[personal profile] ebrius 2024-02-15 12:26 pm (UTC)(link)
"Duchess."

She's just going to hate this place and the things she's going to be expected to do every single mintue she's here, isn't she? Yep. Jessica groans audibly and shakes her head.

"You know what you just said makes absolutely no damn sense, right?"

Jessica's sure of that but she's just going to ask anwyay.

"I don't want to worship anyone."
princess_of_ida: (Default)

cw: cannibalism

[personal profile] princess_of_ida 2024-02-15 02:59 pm (UTC)(link)
Careful there - not all man-eaters were monsters born of the curse. Tasting that sweet flesh was a tantalizing thought. Blood too, but Ianthe being an occasional cannibal was an open secret these days.

Her eyes fluttered as the chain clicked into place, and she wet her lips. What would Peony end up doing with her? What tastes did she have? Could she stick to her self-imposed chastity? How horrible would it be if Ianthe tried to get her to break? Not that she cared if it was horrible. It probably was.

Using the offered arm, she rose to her feet and stretched a little. "Down that way is impact and bondage play. That way is humiliation, degredation and petplay. Farther down on the other side is breath, blades, and blood. To the south is master/slave in its various forms. And then there's the Heart Station, the gloryhole, and the real hardcore shit," Ianthe said, pointing as necessary. "Wherever your feet move, as do mine." Pick a poison.
policier: 𝓭𝓷𝓽 (fifty four)

[personal profile] policier 2024-02-15 03:25 pm (UTC)(link)
Javert doesn't take any offense to it at all — he is old and unremarkable, not anything he would expect anyone to be impressed by. These are just facts, observations that anyone with eyes can make, and so he doesn't even give it a response. Instead, he simply watches as the other man pours his drink, wasting it all. That seems to bother Javert somewhat, his brow furrowing a bit.

"Too strong for you?" he says, not forgetting Ransom's first remark. "A drink on an empty stomach will do no man no good."
dulge: (pic#16994222)

[personal profile] dulge 2024-02-15 06:43 pm (UTC)(link)
[ She's now not letting go until he does the job he agreed to. ]

The middle of my back.

[ Chop chop, little man. ]
dulge: (pic#16993083)

[personal profile] dulge 2024-02-15 06:57 pm (UTC)(link)
What are you trying to bring, a car?
dulge: (pic#16994222)

[personal profile] dulge 2024-02-15 07:09 pm (UTC)(link)
Oh, no wait, that's not—[ her desire to put on his sweaty boots.

She bends to pick the boot up and rushes him to stop him from taking another and thrusts the boot back into his hands. A little flustered but thankful, she can't be too careful about upsetting a man alone in the woods! ]
Please. It'll be faster if we just go now, I'll be slower in the boots.

[ She's walking! She doesn't quite know the direction, but she's walking! ]
dulge: (pic#16994127)

[personal profile] dulge 2024-02-15 07:14 pm (UTC)(link)
Do a lot of people come to you for stuff like that? Or like...can stuff like that even be made here? I figure it's all just like herbs and stuff like your grandma's old folk remedies.
explosion: (pic#15949133)

[personal profile] explosion 2024-02-15 08:24 pm (UTC)(link)
Wanda takes no offence to the comment. Sometimes, she feels like she's relaying a storyline from a soap opera. (How many times have Ridge and Brooke broken up by now?)

"Pretend, and you'll have a good time. Not many of us are dedicated to anyone's altar—and a lot of us are openly hostile—but I think you earn more from honey when you're nice to the bees."

Or wasps. Wanda thinks they're playing with wasps.
explosion: (pic#16686504)

[personal profile] explosion 2024-02-15 08:27 pm (UTC)(link)
All of that sounded like a plot of a fantastical movie, perhaps even a series of films. Regardless, Wanda smiled. It didn't sound as convoluted and ridiculous as aliens invading the Earth and wiping half of humanity from existence using stones from space, but she appreciated the wackiness. They might not have hailed from the same universe, but there were cross-pollinated themes.

"And now you are here… Rubilykskoye can be kind to visitors, but I find it a little temperamental." Like a child sometimes, but Wanda didn't offer that.

When she spoke next, her voice was a touch lower. "Your friends aren't here, are they?"
veraz: (hair back; for granted)

[personal profile] veraz 2024-02-15 09:01 pm (UTC)(link)
Marta's mouth does a little quirk upward in the corner. She wants to smile but thinks it would be, perhaps, unkind to do so; she wants to smile because she imagines that she might have figured out a plausible reason to wear gloves.

They're related ideas.

"I get that." A nod. "It'll probably be hard at first. Community. It is for a lot of people, even the ones who don't know it about themselves."
rezni: (094)

[personal profile] rezni 2024-02-15 10:23 pm (UTC)(link)
Based on what I've heard, I'd love a car. One of the very fast ones.
veraz: (hair back; young looking)

[personal profile] veraz 2024-02-15 10:24 pm (UTC)(link)
Some invitations don't need to be explicit, and Marta recognizes the opportunity for what it is. She gives Jessica a brief but bright smile and then they're off, to the other end of the festival where the Gluewein is available. They each get one, and Marta wraps her hands around the mug as she sips hers.

"Haven't had a drink in a while." Alcohol, that is.
veraz: (birthday; regina)

[personal profile] veraz 2024-02-15 10:42 pm (UTC)(link)
Sometimes Marta has the impression that Ransom is building a wall of dense brick, only whenever she manages to approach it she finds the stuff as translucent as lace. "I could complain," they're in agreement, "but there are better things to complain about."

What, in all the cosmos, specifically, is defined as measurable control when both of them could be called simply walking electrochemical reactions with distinct senses of individuality and self? She won't ask Ransom that. Them's fighting words, or something; the problem of logic versus reality versus the lens versus the interplay of all those things layered upon the impossibility of the lack of the subjective.

He watches her. He speaks, he moves. He touches her, and she blushes, more at the combined physical experience, the reality of being naked in front of a man she's only been naked in front of through a physical lens before, than at the implication of sex.

Well. It's not not the implication of sex.

Marta blushes, skin becoming just a bit warmer beneath his hand, against his skin, but she doesn't look away. "I think it's less a matter of playing into their hands, and more choosing between now or not now."

As she sees it? There's only some strange countdown controlled and perhaps constructed by Ransom's whims in regards to whether or not they fuck each other. They are in the same space and not under the watchful eyes of the Massachusetts Department of Corrections.

It's gonna happen. Now, or not now.
ebrius: (eefwfsd)

[personal profile] ebrius 2024-02-15 11:02 pm (UTC)(link)
"A good time?"

Yeah, she doubts that. She shoots Wanda a dubious look.

"Is that what you've been doing? Having a good time while they parade you around naked and drug your food and drinks?"

She's heard a few things, yeah.
explosion: (pic#15717460)

[personal profile] explosion 2024-02-15 11:20 pm (UTC)(link)
"A little."

There's no point in denying she's made the most of it. Wanda has nowhere else to go. After what transpired throughout the Multiverse, Wanda is homeless. There's no Vision, no boys, no Pietro. No Sokovia. She has no place except to be buried beneath the rubble. Despite the tensions in Rubilykskoye that emerge from time to time and the troubles she's wandered and magicked herself into, she wants to make it work here.

That's why she doesn't bristle. Wanda doesn't look away, either—if Jessica's searching for a fissure in her composure, she won't find it.

"It's no different to how I was treated before. I may have been clothed, but I was still humiliated. Here, people aren't as afraid of me. Nowhere is perfect; it's what you make of it."
cacotopia: s (019)

[personal profile] cacotopia 2024-02-16 12:01 am (UTC)(link)
[ Done!! Jeez. ]

Happy?
hedoniste: (117)

gwen vauquelin — original character

[personal profile] hedoniste 2024-02-16 12:03 am (UTC)(link)

naked hiking.

( it's—

dramatic. weeks and months of what she chooses not to call agoraphobia, refusing counselling, going no further than from one house on the same property to the other, never outside of the boundaries of the estate or the sight of the recently boosted security— clutching that paperwork, thinking about what she will have to agree to and what following up might entail—

naked in the fucking woods, all alone. this is not the baby step back into civilisation that she'd planned to take. also, not civilisation, probably, that's not exactly — she was in the woods already. so there's that. but not these woods, her own, her home. never further away from her father or staff than a bloodcurdling scream,

and she's tried that already, her lungs burning, the sudden regret of:

who might answer?

—so she stops screaming. starts walking. at least the nudity is the least of her concerns, all things considered, but given how it ended the last time she woke up somewhere she didn't expect to be, she's half afraid of what happens if she finds anyone.
)

network.

Qu'est-ce que c'est que bordel.

( ouais, that'll do. )

wildcard.

( hello I am reading everything but I'm brand ass new to all of the game concepts so please feel free to throw any wildcard starter my way, I'm just sticking to the Newbie Baby Steps for an open prompt so I can get a feel for the setting!

* if you're looking at her info, I'm taking her from mid 2018.
)
Edited 2024-02-16 00:10 (UTC)
medals: (0139.)

baby darling sweetheart angel light of her life

[personal profile] medals 2024-02-16 12:13 am (UTC)(link)
[She goes back to city watch duty, eventually. It's the only real way she can convince herself to leave the safety of home, the only way she can rationalise even testing the waters of being in public again. She doesn't especially like it; she's gotten used to the cotton safety of being wrapped up in lovers, of focusing on tiling, in making projects to occupy her time.

It's still so cold, in town. She's bundled up in her coat, at least three layers more under that. None of that matters, though, because the jacket is off so very quickly the second she sees thew newcomer at the wall, and then even faster when she knows the face. She says, a little breathless: ]
Here, put this on, [and then doesn't dare say anything too familiar after that.

If Petre taught her anything, it's never to get her hopes up. ]
We really need to start leaving - clothes, in the woods. [Ha. ]
hedoniste: (118)

this hurts me to write i hope you know that

[personal profile] hedoniste 2024-02-16 12:27 am (UTC)(link)
( jem knows the face, but—

there's no recognition in gwen's eyes, caught off-guard by the suddenness of this stranger but unable to object to the prospect of being warm — manicured toes curled against the crisp chill, huddled to herself not from modesty but to protect what body heat she can cling to. jem's body heat, now, accepting the coat with numbed fingers and burrowing into it, heat transferred from girl to coat to girl,

this is the closest she's been to a stranger in more than a year. she can barely think about that, because jem has said something patently insane:
)

This is—

( what? normal? commonplace?

not personal, and is that a relief or not? not like last time. and she doesn't know.
)

I don't— ( sound the way jem expects her to, her english fluent but much more audibly non-native than she'd recall, parisien, ) —make a habit of abandoned. Forest clothes.

( what the fuck. )
molineux: 𝕡𝕣𝕠𝕧𝕖𝕣𝕓𝕚𝕒𝕝𝕝𝕪 || 𝔻ℕ𝕋 (pic#14890956)

[personal profile] molineux 2024-02-16 12:27 am (UTC)(link)
Margaery had hardly understood when they'd clapped the cuff around her wrist, but so long as there was no accompanying chain to a matching one on her other arm, she could bear it. Where it felt like being labeled as livestock before, it now felt like a modicum of power and control returned. Ironic, given Ianthe was still calling the shots, but it was enough of a facade for Margaery to willingly indulge.

One hand curled into the thick braid as they kissed; in this, at least, she would not lose face. Not when there were still layers of frustration waiting to be released, and the temptation to lose herself in pleasure presented itself like a solution on a silver platter. Her other hand moved to grope a breast, uncaring of the way it risked Ianthe's modesty and almost just as uncaring of her own appearance and the public debauchery she was engaging in.

But gods, it felt so good to let go for once. If this was hell, there'd be no harm in pulling at least one orgasm from it.

A thin line of saliva connected their mouths as they parted; Margaery gently gripped Ianthe's face with one hand as she licked it into disappearance.

"And if I demanded you to strip down so I could ride your face until I come? Would you still be as docile, my lady?"
medals: (2495327 (17))

mine heart

[personal profile] medals 2024-02-16 12:37 am (UTC)(link)
No one wants to make a habit of abandoned forest clothes, [and this comes out a little easier, maybe a little relieved. The face is familiar, the accent is not. That's kinder, perhaps, than whatever the hell she has going on with Petre right now.

Some of the locals by the wall give sympathetic nods - others, as they begin the walk into town, look less thrilled. Jem's become an expert at ignoring them, for the most part. ]
But sometimes people wander in from the forest, enough times it probably makes sense that we should just start leaving care packages around? Sorry, I'm rabbiting on a bit. I'm Jem, hi. Let's err - get you some proper clothes and some socks, maybe? It's to get colder, later.
dulge: (Default)

[personal profile] dulge 2024-02-16 12:37 am (UTC)(link)
[ Another one. ]

No good roads here though, you'd tear it up in an instant.
guitarpicks: (URyR1l2)

network

[personal profile] guitarpicks 2024-02-16 12:39 am (UTC)(link)
you can say that again ( yay magical translation? ) is it more flying horses? the giant spiders? the cult? or just the whole place?
dulge: (pic#16913648)

network

[personal profile] dulge 2024-02-16 12:39 am (UTC)(link)
L'enfer?

[ it's funny, cause she's a demon. ]