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Duplicity Info
Mar. 29th, 2019 06:12 pm  Orpheus | |||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||
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| YES | MAYBE | NO | |||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||
| ✓ Spanking ✓ Aphrodisiacs ✓ Dirty talk ✓ Public sex ✓ Bondage ✓ Deep-Throating ✓ Breathplay/Choking ✓ Frottage ✓ Edgeplay ✓ Hand-jobs/Masturbation ✓ Rimming ✓ Object Insertion ✓ Waxplay ✓ Massage ✓ Threesome/moresome ✓ Double Penetration ✓ Shower sex ✓ Glory hole ✓ Collaring ✓ Shibari ✓ Against a wall ✓ Exhibitionism/Voyeurism ✓ Sixty-nine ✓ Suspension ✓ Mirror Sex ✓ Temperature Play ✓ Stripping/Striptease ✓ Swallowing ✓ Overstimulation ✓ Toys ✓ Blow jobs ✓ Sadism/Masochism |
◌ kink ◌ Watersports ◌ Biting ◌ Begging ◌ Size Difference ◌ Cross-dressing ◌ Lingerie/Stockings/corsets ◌ Fucking Machines ◌ Orgasm Denial ◌ Tentacles ◌ Sensory Deprivation ◌ Role Reversal ◌ Sounding ◌ Lapdances ◌ Blood play |
✗ kink ✗ scat ✗ vomit |
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Westworld AU
Aug. 24th, 2018 07:05 pmOrpheus has been with the Mariposa since Maeve opened it. A fixture, you might say. He can always be found of an evening tickling his keys and keeping an eye out for trouble with the newcomers. Mostly there's none, but sometimes he has to sweep in with a smile and a song or just stand behind Maeve, looking intimidating.
They call him the Lonely Musician, and if you buy him a drink or two, he'll tell you about his great love, long since lost. If you buy him another, he might tell you that you remind him of his love.
He's not one of Maeve's boys, but if a newcomer looks at him right, strikes up the right conversation (buys him the right number of drinks), Orpheus will give them a night they'll never forget.
They call him the Lonely Musician, and if you buy him a drink or two, he'll tell you about his great love, long since lost. If you buy him another, he might tell you that you remind him of his love.
He's not one of Maeve's boys, but if a newcomer looks at him right, strikes up the right conversation (buys him the right number of drinks), Orpheus will give them a night they'll never forget.
The Drowning Fiddler
Aug. 7th, 2018 05:39 pmThe Drowning Fiddler is a little pub in Earl's Court that Orpheus has been visiting, on and off, for about two hundred years now. In more recent decades, the basement has been remodeled to double as a concert venue, and a number of bands who went on to be famous got their start on its cramped stage. Having spent a good deal of time and a good deal of coin at the bar, Orpheus has come to know the owner, Martin, well enough that he's occasionally asked to fill in for any musicians who back out at the last minute or on any nights when the stage isn't booked.
(Orpheus suspects that Martin keeps nights open when business isn't going well, so Orpheus can help him pick up the slack. Orpheus doesn't mind. He always puts a little encouragement to drink in his music when he plays. Martin deserves it.)
It's a Wednesday night, and though that's the Fiddler's least busy night in general, the room is packed. There wasn't a lot of time for advertising, but since the advent of social media (something Orpheus still can't quite get his head around), a few hours is all the notice needed to fill a room when he plays.
There's no amplification system because Orpheus never needs one, and there's no one to introduce him. He just sidles onto the stage, whiskey in one hand, cigarette in the other, and takes a seat on a wooden stool. As he settles himself (whiskey on an unused amplifier, guitar in his lap, still lit cigarette tucked between two strings), the room gradually quiets, but anyone still speaking comes to a hush when Orpheus starts to play.
He starts off with something quiet, something that feels like a Wednesday night, a needed breath of fresh air and freedom in the middle of the week. The room relaxes in the wake of it, as if communally exhaling in relief, and Orpheus smiles, loving the moment he knows he has the audience in the palm of his hand.
A quick sip of whiskey, a couple of drags on his cigarette as he retunes his guitar, and then he plays what they all came here to hear.
Something to dance to.
(Orpheus suspects that Martin keeps nights open when business isn't going well, so Orpheus can help him pick up the slack. Orpheus doesn't mind. He always puts a little encouragement to drink in his music when he plays. Martin deserves it.)
It's a Wednesday night, and though that's the Fiddler's least busy night in general, the room is packed. There wasn't a lot of time for advertising, but since the advent of social media (something Orpheus still can't quite get his head around), a few hours is all the notice needed to fill a room when he plays.
There's no amplification system because Orpheus never needs one, and there's no one to introduce him. He just sidles onto the stage, whiskey in one hand, cigarette in the other, and takes a seat on a wooden stool. As he settles himself (whiskey on an unused amplifier, guitar in his lap, still lit cigarette tucked between two strings), the room gradually quiets, but anyone still speaking comes to a hush when Orpheus starts to play.
He starts off with something quiet, something that feels like a Wednesday night, a needed breath of fresh air and freedom in the middle of the week. The room relaxes in the wake of it, as if communally exhaling in relief, and Orpheus smiles, loving the moment he knows he has the audience in the palm of his hand.
A quick sip of whiskey, a couple of drags on his cigarette as he retunes his guitar, and then he plays what they all came here to hear.
Something to dance to.
OOC: AU week at Milliways
Jul. 21st, 2015 10:43 amSince he's at least situationally part of the Marvel-verse in Milliways, Orpheus will also be going noir. He's a mob-owned entertainer, working off his considerable and ever-growing debts by playing in various, mob-owned casinos.
He still has the tragic past, and he's still ridiculously talented.
He still has the tragic past, and he's still ridiculously talented.
[Milliways] Out of the public eye
May. 9th, 2015 10:56 pmOrpheus is still grinning as he sets his guitar just inside the door from Milliways and pulls Steve toward him for another kiss, his hands immediately moving back to Steve's waistband.
The scene is familiar in its Wrongness, and that familiarity makes it somewhat easier to accept but no less difficult to believe in.
She sits under her oak, a welcoming smile on her face, and he goes to her without thought, laying his guitar in the grass and laying beside her, head in her lap. He knows better than to try and hold her, but he closes his eyes, and he can feel her fingers moving in his hair as they had done so very long ago.
He wants to stay here always, never have to admit that it isn't real, but he can't. He can't abandon the life he's made so easily.
So he asks, knowing it will hasten her departure, "Why have you come?"
Her fingers continue their movements, and it's just a moment before she says, "Because now as ever you don't listen."
He blinks his eyes open to look at her, confused and worried to have disappointed her. "Haven't I done what you asked? Haven't I lived and...and loved?" Even at her request, it feels something like a betrayal to admit that to her.
Still she strokes through his hair, and her voice is gentle, if chiding. "You know the answer there, beloved." Her free hand moves to his chest as she adds, "The heart is an infinite gift. There is no reason to hold part of it back." There is hesitation in her voice, and he closes his eyes again as she adds, "And there is no reason to wait for what you know will never be. He deserves more from you."
He waits a moment, expecting she will disappear on him again, but she does not, and he thinks he knows why. "He deserves everything from me."
He doesn't have to open his eyes to know she's smiling. He feels her move, feels the coolness of her lips on his forehead. "It may not be precisely the same, but do not make it different where it is not."
Her fingers are still in his hair, and he settles in. If she disappears again, it is not until he has fallen asleep, one last time, in her lap.
She sits under her oak, a welcoming smile on her face, and he goes to her without thought, laying his guitar in the grass and laying beside her, head in her lap. He knows better than to try and hold her, but he closes his eyes, and he can feel her fingers moving in his hair as they had done so very long ago.
He wants to stay here always, never have to admit that it isn't real, but he can't. He can't abandon the life he's made so easily.
So he asks, knowing it will hasten her departure, "Why have you come?"
Her fingers continue their movements, and it's just a moment before she says, "Because now as ever you don't listen."
He blinks his eyes open to look at her, confused and worried to have disappointed her. "Haven't I done what you asked? Haven't I lived and...and loved?" Even at her request, it feels something like a betrayal to admit that to her.
Still she strokes through his hair, and her voice is gentle, if chiding. "You know the answer there, beloved." Her free hand moves to his chest as she adds, "The heart is an infinite gift. There is no reason to hold part of it back." There is hesitation in her voice, and he closes his eyes again as she adds, "And there is no reason to wait for what you know will never be. He deserves more from you."
He waits a moment, expecting she will disappear on him again, but she does not, and he thinks he knows why. "He deserves everything from me."
He doesn't have to open his eyes to know she's smiling. He feels her move, feels the coolness of her lips on his forehead. "It may not be precisely the same, but do not make it different where it is not."
Her fingers are still in his hair, and he settles in. If she disappears again, it is not until he has fallen asleep, one last time, in her lap.
IC Contact Post
Jul. 10th, 2013 02:31 pmAutomated voice, "To leave a message for..."
...very long pause
"Orpheus?"
Automated voice, "Press one."
