rubimods: (Default)
rubilykskoye mods ([personal profile] rubimods) wrote in [community profile] rubimemes2024-06-18 01:02 pm
Entry tags:

SUMMER TEST DRIVE MEME

⚰︎ ⍢ ⌲ ⍚ 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 coming 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: nudity, D/S mechanics, public sex, aphro, death, missing persons.

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 emerging from a temporary retreat from the wintry weather. 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, is running actively again as the weather warms back up from the recent snowstorm.

As you explore, 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, and the weather isn't quite amenable to your lack of.

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. Parts of the house still bear the dust of disuse, gathered on various furnishings — bedding, sofas, curtains, wooden tables. However, it's already full of people! Anyone who's already appeared in the village just as you did today lives here. Once inside, you may notice patchwork repairs have been made, and some scorch marks still linger from a recent fire, and some furniture is still lying around in splinters.

Tonight, a few of the townspeople will help out with the new arrivals. They stock the kitchen and prepare a communal dinner of parsnips, pheasant, and squash. During dinner, they (and those outsiders who've already begun to settle) sit down at the enormous wooden dining room table and help orient the newcomers and answer their questions.

finding roommates
Don't spend too much time in the dining room going for seconds, though. 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. The last people upstairs will need to double up to squeeze in. Roommates will not be mod-assigned; players should coordinate directly with one another to determine their living arrangements.


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 breakfast. You may notice they're dressed in a way you would almost call normal — at least, in a manner befitting 19th century Eastern Europe. As you find your way around town to get your bearings, folks 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 or other inventory items, asking questions at dinner/orientation, or staking your claim on a bedroom!



THE FESTIVAL OF SUMMERTIDE

Summer is in full swing, which means it's time to take advantage of the warm weather! Around the town, various games are being played, some sport-based and some more concerned with creativity, problem-solving, sex, or 'fun'. Each round begins with a prayer to the Duchess. Not bowing your head in prayer may get you a few stares from locals, or worse-- opponents may be extra motivated to defeat someone so disrespectful to her Grace.

Each Thursday, buildings are festooned with wreathes of wildflowers, tables are laden with food and drink, and everyone is given colored sashes to wear over their clothes. Festival goers are not allowed to enter the main events unless they wear a sash, and to get a sash they must reveal their curse marks. Those marked with the curse of Wilk receive blue sashes, Diabel get red, Skala receive green and Niez are as ever adorned with grey.



Summertide, the locals are eager to explain, is a festival about adapting to the needs of others, and accepting things as they are. What perhaps isn't explained nearly so well is the expectations placed upon festival goers. Each event has a goal to be achieved, balanced on the point of competition or participation.

Tables overflow with refreshments, especially drinks and chilled fruit to cool the summer heat. Rubeans traditionally spice their foods with aphrodisiacs, something that is so culturally normal to them that they don't feel the need to mention it.

  • An outdoor feast starts the festivities, with commanders, who are expected to give orders, and followers, who must follow the whims of commanders, whatever they decree. Who commands and who follows is decided by the curse-marked sash participants wear. But there's a twist-- every three hours, a horn blows, and the roles switch at random; commanders become followers and vice versa. Many festival-goers, now in a position of command, are eager to get petty revenge on the followers now at their mercy.


  • Fencing! For health reasons, any cut must be properly cleaned, and kept free of contaminants; for this reason, fencers are expected to compete fully naked. Otherwise, you might get some cloth in your cuts!


  • Wrestling! Wrestlers are well-oiled for the matches, making it hard to keep your grip on a slippery opponent. The winner of the match is declared when they have their opponent pinned... and at that point, the winner can do anything they like to the loser until they can get away, if they even want to.


  • A game going on throughout the town, regardless of whether someone consents to participation, is something the locals call Lock and Key. The rules are explained after you are grabbed and tied by your wrist (or ankle, whatever was available) to someone else: the locked binding tying you two together is blessed to be unbreakable until you each draw one another's blood... or find the key, stashed somewhere in the town. Good luck!


  • Anyone who refuses to play along will be ejected from the festivities, and made to run through the crowd while being whipped with thin wooden sticks.


  • Throughout all of this, some of the implementation of these games may occasionally come across as either overly cruel or overly kind. The common people of Rubilykskoye are of two minds when it comes to the treatment of newcomers: some think you are beneficent, sent to fix their problems and free them of your woes. These people, called Blackguards, will do their best to make sure your participation in the games is not marred by cheating, excessive violence, or pain. But others, called the Zlatniki, think little of the outsiders coming into their lands, and will do their best to twist their native traditions toward cruelty and vindictive unfairness when it comes to the Void-touched.

    writer's block?
    If you're struggling to pick a way to engage the prompts, try participating in events, having your characters go against opponents, be drafted into the games against their will, or watching others perform!


    NIGHT OF THE HUNTSMEN

    Rumor moves through town quickly: two nights ago, a hunting party went out into the wood, and no one has seen them since. Anyone who wants to prove their worth to the community is encouraged to join the search parties going out to look for them; in Rubilykskoye, those who provide food for the community are highly prized, especially when they brave the woods to do so.

    You see, the woods aren't entirely safe. Near the town, it's nothing to be alarmed by, and of course the search parties find nothing there. They must delve deeper, and that's where you end up. 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.


    Many peel off, going back to the town proper. The searchers become fewer and fewer. Maybe some of them are going back home, but maybe they're getting lost. Eventually, you walk around a large tree, and you're alone. It's just you and 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?

    Yet the further you go, the more convinced you become that the missing hunters are near by. You're sure you can hear them on the wind, their voices calling out between the trees. Did you just see something out of the corner of your eye? You have to find them. You have to make all this darkness worth it.

    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! Feel free to find the bodies of the missing hunting party-- or hallucinate that you did.


    RELEASE YOUR INNER BEAST

    Something's wrong here.

    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
    Early one morning, alarm bells are rung. The people of Rubilykskoye are quick to explain while boarding up their windows and locking their doors: The Szymanskiy brothers have all transformed! Their inner beasts - duchozweirz, the natives call it - take the form of creeping, skeletal horrors. The beasts hunt and to kill, ripping their prey apart, but that's not all they can do.

    Those who are lucky enough to escape one of the Szymanskiy triplets will leave feeling... changed. The psychic residue these monsters give off cause the afflicted to seek out danger with reckless abandon; they will run toward the monster, into fights, and refuse safety when offered. They must be restrained in a secure location to wait for the pheromones to wear off.

    (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?
    marcas: (061)

    cw: dissociation, vague mentions of noncon

    [personal profile] marcas 2024-08-15 05:29 pm (UTC)(link)
    [ The kiss, the lips; it's all so familiar, like darkness hovering above, blocking out the sky, closing in on him with memories of Agate and Inyoite. They didn't have to do any of it. Had he been allowed to ask, they might have told Noth that Mother Aegirine preferred it if they didn't, and that they were simply prioritizing indulgence over their duty. ]

    Ah—

    [ The teeth are new. The noise and tense shoulders are a kneejerk reaction that he forces himself to withdraw from. He knows what to do, how to cut his mind from his body and wait, ignore the pain and let his nerve endings manage it for him until she gets what she needs. (His skin feels like it's burning, droning with pain, wet with the blood that rushes for her consumption.)

    Wait. That's all he needs to do. ]
    bytte: ruth (142)

    [personal profile] bytte 2024-08-15 05:50 pm (UTC)(link)
    Teddy.

    [ and then a pause, while she collects herself and tries to filter out the rest of the psychic noise. she made Teddy out of herself and Morgan, and his thoughts should feel like her own; they should feel the way all familial bonds feel, even as strange of a creation as he is. ]

    What do you mean 'prison'?
    marcas: (043)

    [personal profile] marcas 2024-08-15 05:54 pm (UTC)(link)
    [ He's been trying to control the flow of his thoughts, to make them clear to the point of feeling stilted. There's no such filter now; he's too excited to finally feel her again, so they pour like a glass of water tipping over. ]

    Bestiary a prison on the Elsewhere with monsters
    The monks they found me they thought I was a monster they locked me away but I got out
    bytte: ruth (146)

    [personal profile] bytte 2024-08-15 05:58 pm (UTC)(link)
    How on Earth did they find you?
    marcas: (072)

    [personal profile] marcas 2024-08-15 06:00 pm (UTC)(link)
    I do not know I could not ask they would not talk to me they did not let me speak
    I would like to see you now
    bytte: safe house (131)

    [personal profile] bytte 2024-08-15 06:02 pm (UTC)(link)
    You'll come to the boarding house. There's a kitchen here, I'll make us tea and soup.
    marcas: (090)

    [personal profile] marcas 2024-08-15 06:04 pm (UTC)(link)
    I will go there now thank you Louise I cannot wait to see you I am very excited
    ghostveins: (pic#17268188)

    [personal profile] ghostveins 2024-08-15 06:05 pm (UTC)(link)
    [ she can feel the small noise he makes against her lips and she moans quietly in response – while eagerly lapping the warm blood into her mouth, not letting a single drop of it to go to waste. it's tasty and precious and she's grateful that's he's not struggling because that usually creates a mess and puts her in a sour mood. some people give her so much trouble!

    she could probably drink even more, satisfy herself properly, but she thinks she can safely return to him later and if she gets carried away now, he might not be so calm the next time. reluctantly, she finally pulls away, lightheaded with the taste of him. so close to him it's almost audible how she swallows down and licks her lips clean with her tongue.

    then she brings her own thumb to her mouth, bites the tip of it gently and neatly uses her own blood to close his wounds. it's like they were never even there. ]
    bytte: safe house (131)

    [personal profile] bytte 2024-08-15 06:10 pm (UTC)(link)
    Try not to be, the ingredients available are sparse.
    formerhighking: (300)

    [personal profile] formerhighking 2024-08-15 06:35 pm (UTC)(link)
    "I'm very observant," Eliot says, deadpan. He takes in her simple clothes, the wrinkled nose. (And the pointed ears, which meant this was more of a Fillory than an Earth, he assumed.) "The bugs were NOT kind. I sympathize."

    He shrugs. "Honestly, I can't even tell you how long. It all blended together. I know it wasn't short. I'm not meant to be a forest nymph, I got turned around a few times." Eliot lowers his voice. "What's your take on this place so far? The people are ... friendly. It feels strange."
    riffle: (pic#16563867)

    [personal profile] riffle 2024-08-15 08:17 pm (UTC)(link)
    I prefer the term sorceress, a mage. Witches live in huts in the bog and practice herbcraft for peasants.

    [ No offense. ]

    I have a sisterhood, but not here. But there is no short of gifted women in these parts, it would befit to start another.
    whatsinfrontofyou: (wing)

    [personal profile] whatsinfrontofyou 2024-08-15 08:45 pm (UTC)(link)
    "Of course not, darling. If you were a nymph, you'd hardly have bothered coming all the way into town." She speaks airily, like she's joking; it's a useful way to buy a few extra seconds to gather her thoughts, to make the pause before she answers the real question slightly less awkward.

    It's a complicated question, and one she doesn't have a ready or an easy response for.

    "As for the people... some are friendlier than others. I'm still getting the lay of the land myself." Those pointed ears stay pricked and she cuts a quick glance across the boarding house common room. "I think everyone here has plenty of reason to be sympathetic. As for the locals, I imagine they have their own purposes."
    poleaxed: smile; hands (my my hey hey)

    002.

    [personal profile] poleaxed 2024-08-15 09:34 pm (UTC)(link)
    Joan has, unfortunately, played this game before. She looks at their wrists, looks at the fucking ragamuffin attached to her, and thinks back to the last time she did this.

    "This place ain't big on riddles," she says, pulling a knife out of the holster on her belt. "We gotta stab each other."
    formerhighking: (299)

    [personal profile] formerhighking 2024-08-15 09:41 pm (UTC)(link)
    Eliot gives her a crooked smile. "Or been in such a hurry to find clothes, probably." It wasn't a high priority with them, as far as he knew.

    "I'm inclined to not trust friendly locals. In my experience with alternate world trips, the locals are usually hostile and frequently homicidal, even if you're technically their ruler." He waves a hand. "Long story. But same here. I'd say priority one is getting out, but I'm guessing that's priority for everyone who comes here, and there seem to be a lot still here." He looks at her again, quick glance searching for a mark she might wear. "Did your entry ticket come with a shiny new, unwanted tattoo too, or are they full of it when they say everyone has them?"
    pentameters: (4)

    [personal profile] pentameters 2024-08-15 09:52 pm (UTC)(link)
    "What a degraded place we find ourselves in." Oz shakes his head. "Anything is in fashion, so long as we people remain compliant. Do your glasses aid you to bend and scrape? I'm sure our lady tyrant appreciates it."
    withmeinparadise: all icons <user name="crestfallen"> (Default)

    sam drake | uncharted | diabel

    [personal profile] withmeinparadise 2024-08-15 10:01 pm (UTC)(link)
    [woods]

    There's a man walking through the woods like he's strolling through the park. Well over six feet, plenty of muscle, prison tats on his neck, Sailor Jerry tats on his chest and shoulder. A long scar where a bullet skimmed one bicep, three bullet holes going straight through his gut in the shape of the Southern Triangle. He's in his mid-forties, and his weathered skin and receding hairline show it, but the way he carries himself, it's like he has no clue he's no longer twenty-two.

    How he reacts when he spots you really depends on the energy you're giving, buddy. Look like you're going to give him some shit, he'll stop where he is, expression going aggressively neutral. "Hey."

    On the other hand, look harmless, and he might even jog over to you, cock bouncing with the effort. "Hey, uh - you got a lead on some clothes, by any chance? And cigarettes, while you're at it."

    (Either way, the accent's noticeably Boston. Don't ask him to say park the car in Harvard Yard.)

    [town]

    This is the best deal Sam Drake's seen in his life. Free room and board, mild expectation of work, serious expectation of getting laid. In the back of his mind, he know it's going to be harder than that - it's still a prison, even if it's town-sized, and he's desperate to roam, even more desperate to get back to the island - but to start with? He could do worse.

    (Sure, he's worried. How could he not be worried, knowing Nathan's out there, wondering just where he went? But he can't do anything about it right now. He's gotta lay low and keep his ears open.)

    He's no longer sauntering around nude, having liberated a work shirt and a pair of trousers from some unsuspecting Rubean's drawers, but he's on the move and hunting down everything he needs here.

    a. "Hey. You got a roommate yet?" Poking his head into a room, entirely unconcerned with what you were doing. Are you balls-deep inside someone? Deal with it, answer the question.

    b. "So what do people do for fun around here?" Asked at the bar, more likely than not, a drink dangling from his fingers. "Aside from the, uh, obvious."

    [summertide]

    A festival, he can get with. The whole place is food and drinks on the house, but there's still some novelty about eating it outdoors on a nice day. Especially when it goes along with what looks like an orgy for the ages, to his eye. They really weren't kidding about venting zadza.

    a. "Salud," he intones with absolutely no effort at an accent, holding up an ice-cold glass. "So what's your sash color mean?"

    (His is red. Make of that what you will.)

    b. "Thinking about it?" he asks, glancing from the wrestling ring to the girl standing next to him, offering a smile that's just a little lascivious. "I could help you with the oil."

    c. Sam has no intention of playing Lock and Key - he's had enough of both for a long damned time. And yet here he is, cuffed. His brow furrows as he gives his wrist a little shake, as though that'll be enough to dislodge his hand. "Hold on, I can pick it. You got a bobby pin?"

    [wildcard]

    [ Want to do something else? Let's do something else. PM this journal if you want to talk it out first.

    NOTA BENE: Sam Drake thinks of himself as straight and will not be approaching men with any of the suggestive or flirtatious options. That said, feel free to proposition him for m/m stuff! He'll shoot your character down (getting to the point of sucking dick would be a long-term in-game project), but it'll be funny. And it's Sam Drake; I'm here for what's funny. ]
    whatsinfrontofyou: (barb)

    [personal profile] whatsinfrontofyou 2024-08-15 10:06 pm (UTC)(link)
    Clearly he expects questions, and just as clearly now isn't the time to ask them. They're still there, though, lighting up Vex's eyes. If he has experience with this kind of travel, then it stands to reason he might have some kind of knowledge relevant to leaving.

    She saves those questions for later, then.

    "I can speak to at least one person who's been here almost a year trying to leave without luck," she says, on topic this time. "Someone I'd trust to be able to leave if there were a way. Safe to say it's not going to be easy."

    Not that it will stop her from trying. She wasn't here before.

    "I don't have any reason to doubt the tattoos are as mandatory as we've been told. Or to doubt what that means." Dancing around the curse somewhat. "Still having some trouble accepting it though."
    poleaxed: joke ; smile ; scx (i'm not looking for an open door)

    summertide b.

    [personal profile] poleaxed 2024-08-15 10:13 pm (UTC)(link)
    Joan is drinking some of the punch from the nearest bowl, except it's not really punch, it's some kind of compote of currants and cherries. It's sweet as shit, and probably drugged. Everything here is drugged, and she's starting to not really mind it. She likes the way it makes her feel, horny but in control, more willing to take things that'd normally give her pause. She likes stretching herself, pushing her limits.

    This guy hitting on her is not a limit. He looks like the top catch of a truck stop, and that's novel for its rarity. Everybody here is such a fucking paragon of pruning, carefully manicured facial hair and waxed skin. This guy, she really-- she can think of a few things she'd like to do with him. None of them involve oil.

    She tilts her head. "What're you into?"
    whatsinfrontofyou: (rachis)

    network.

    [personal profile] whatsinfrontofyou 2024-08-15 10:25 pm (UTC)(link)
    [It was bound to happen at some point. Vex already knew it could happen. Somehow, she thought when it did, she'd imagined that whatever ended up mentally shouted at her mind, it would be relevant.

    Or at least not nonsense.]


    What. The. Fuck.
    opioid: (🥀 132)

    [personal profile] opioid 2024-08-15 10:27 pm (UTC)(link)
    "What, you don't even wanna swap names?" Eddie eyes the knife with deep wariness, as if it's about to grow legs and start running at him. That's the kind of smart reaction you ought to have when someone reveals they're carrying a knife on their person – impressed, but also wary, and ready to move at a moment's notice. There's not much moving would do, since he'd be attached to the person wielding the threat, but it'd probably make him feel a little better.

    He'd do anything for one of Roland's big old guns right about now. He's not sure what he'd do with it, but it'd sure feel nice to be hauling it around with him like the world's worst comfort blanket. "Usually I like to get to know someone first before I get to the stabbing stage."
    withmeinparadise: (s209)

    [personal profile] withmeinparadise 2024-08-15 10:29 pm (UTC)(link)
    He wasn't really expecting the line to work, but it clearly catches her interest. She's not bad looking, either - long and lean, sun-brightened red hair, her low-cut shirt revealing plenty of pale skin. No tits, but he can work with that.

    "A little of everything," he answers, and just like that, wrestling's in the rearview mirror. There's a smile tugging one corner of his mouth up. "I'm what you call a dilettante - I'll try just about anything once."
    poleaxed: joke (now death is gonna hold us up)

    [personal profile] poleaxed 2024-08-15 10:32 pm (UTC)(link)
    "Oh," Joan slides the knife back in its holster. "You're knew, aren't you?"

    She should probably feel bad or something. She mostly feels bad for not feeling bad. She's never quite moral enough for her own standards. Just moral enough to feel the glaring lack.

    "Uh, I'm Joan."
    opioid: (🥀 011)

    [personal profile] opioid 2024-08-15 10:35 pm (UTC)(link)
    "Eddie. What tipped you off? Is it that I still look like I got some hope left in me?"

    He does. This isn't the first time he's been to another world. It's not even the second. The problem is that he's never done it alone, but he can solve that.
    poleaxed: smile; joke (of johnny rotten)

    [personal profile] poleaxed 2024-08-15 10:36 pm (UTC)(link)
    Joan wants, always, to push and push until she can see the end of her territory. She knows what this guy is into, she's slept with a version of this guy a hundred times. He wants to see her on her knees or on her back, wants his dick sucked or pulled, maybe wants to get his head between her legs. All of that's fine. All of that's on the table.

    But.

    "You shouldn't say you're up for everything, here. Some people are freaks. That advice's on the house." She takes another sip of her drink. "But I'll blow you, if you can get it up enough to fuck me after."
    poleaxed: smile; joke (of johnny rotten)

    [personal profile] poleaxed 2024-08-15 10:43 pm (UTC)(link)
    It makes her laugh. The laugh is ugly, it has a snort in the middle of it, a wheeze. She stomps on it hard, forces it from her face until she's flat faced and serious. "That you seem surprised by this shit. How long you been in town, kid?"