bakerstreet | The Incest Meme

The Incest Meme

the incest meme

incest; noun — sexual intercourse between closely related persons.

It's no secret that in most modern societies, incest is frowned upon these days. "Keeping it in the family" is no longer a necessity, as people can travel freely and go many places to meet potential mates. Of course, that's not always the case. In some cultures, incest is allowed as long as it's not too close of a relationship; Japan, for instance, permits first cousins to be married, as do many other countries. In addition, incest was often practiced in the past, both for convenience. Still, today, it's mostly taboo, though some continue to partake because of circumstance or other factors.

And, as you all know, we love breaking a good taboo AND we can make quite a lot of...factors.

We're providing them today, everything from the setting to the relatives. But you don't have a living relative, or the person you're stuck with isn't related to you! No problem. Aren't they really related to you? We'll make you believe that, at any rate. There's lots of varieties, too, so it's something the whole family can get in on.

Siblings
Parent/child
Cousins
Aunts or uncles/nieces or nephews
Adopted/Step

Where is all this taking place? It's your lucky day! You'll have a lot of options to "choose" from.

Modern suburbia
Medieval times
Fantasy kingdom
1700s-1800s
Victorian era
The future
Wildcard

With all that in your very own family tree, who needs to climb up another one? Maybe it's an unrequited, one-sided love or a mutual attraction. While you may be hesitant or regretful at first (they don't call it the forbidden fruit for nothing), there's something that will turn the tables towards a little more than familial.

HOW TO PLAY:

-Comment with your characters, preferences, yadda yadda.
-Blank comments are fine, though given the nature of the post, you might want to list specifically what you want and don't want. IE:

Suzy Q | A canon | F/M
(No parent child. Especially interested in big brother/little sister.)

You can also use the always handy form:

-Tag each other and have fun! To determine the relationship and scenario, you can use the RNG (roll once for relationship, then again for setting). Or just wing it!]

Flat | Top-Level Comments Only | Expand All

[Dave is training right now, as if they're still in the game and he'll need his ridiculous combat skills. Every night almost, he dreams about being back in the game and every morning, damn near, he wakes up drenched with sweat and takes a minute or two to realize that he's safe. That he won the game.

But none of it feels right, so he feels compelled to prepare for the end of the world, for everything to get all fucked up again. So he trains and invests. His ability to manipulate time means that money has become an abstract concept, the challenge more in keeping himself low on the radar than in earning it anymore.

He's invested heavily in certain technologies. Better sylladexes. Weapons. Things that are useful in and of themselves, but still a product of a nagging fear that this victory isn't real.

It's only when Rose comes around that he chills out a little. They've grown close lately. With John and Jade derping around the world on crazy adventures and the trolls an increasingly insular bunch, that's left them. And sometimes he dreams of her instead of horrorterrors and Lord English and dying.

He has the dim feeling he should be horrified about having very, very sexual dreams about his sister, but he'd rather wake up oddly horny any day over yet another morning of cold sweat and naked terror. Naked Rose was much more appealing ...

Not that he could ever tell her that.]

Eyes on the prize, Strider.

[And so he continues training for awhile, stripped to the waist, practicing moving both in regular timeflow and flashsteps.]

[There are so many things she could say about Dave's obsession with training. That's what it is, she has no doubt about it—her double major in psychology and English have served her very well thus far in her education, and even if she's being taught that it doesn't necessarily behoove oneself to psychoanalyze one's friends at every turn, she's been doing it for so long that it comes as habit. Dave, she can tell, was affected much more than any of them by the game. By the possibility of dying, of the world ending. John and Jade, they're both happy-go-lucky souls. For them, it was celebration when it was all over—Rose has the sneaking suspicion they both have ill-advised tattoos—and then nothing more was said about it. She still thinks about it, quite a lot, but less often than before, and she doesn't associate it with any present fear or danger anymore, mostly just calm reflection.

She's noticed that Dave seems to calm down somewhat in her presence, or at least she can assume so, from the way he talks to her online when she's away and the way he talks to her in person. It's the start of her summer vacation, so she's decided that it might be best for her to spend as much time with him as possible. It's been going well, so far, but she has noticed one other thing, something that's changed.

Sometimes, when Dave looks at her, she picks up on something about him that's furtive and hidden. Nothing obvious, nothing in his expression or even his meticulously casual posture which fools nobody because he looks like a cobra ready to strike at any moment. Rose thinks perhaps it might be his aura which is giving him away, which is in imperfect science at best, but it's all she has to go on.

So when she's in the kitchen, trying to put together a meal with whatever random ingredients she can find in Dave's cupboard, and hears him say something, she pokes her head out of the kitchen door to look where he's practicing in the living room.]

Did you say something, brother dear?

Yeah, you just missed these sick lyrics I was dropping while I was in here pretending to kill monsters.

[Nevermind that he hasn't composed a single rhyme since he's been back. It just seemed like such a waste of time. He walks into the kitchen, stripped to the waist and seemingly oblivious to it. There's not an ounce of fat on him, he's just, just on the right side of skinny. Lean muscle, marked by a few prominent, pink-ribbon scars where he'd been wounded in various battles they'd had.

He leans against the nearest wall, watching her for a moment behind mirrored shades, trying to convince himself he isn't checking her out. Much. Yeah, Rose Lalonde grew up good. He gathers himself a bit and then gets back to her eyes. Which are also nice.

Surprisingly, his cupboard and fridge are decently stocked. Long gone are the times where he used to live on fucking Doritos and Dr. Pepper. He figures he's got to keep himself in top shape, or maybe he's a bit obsessed with it. Lots of chicken and pasta and fresh fruits and vegetables.

That and a surprisingly large and diverse liquor cabinet. Because every once in awhile the horrible fucking nightmares just become a bit too much and he tries to deal with them that way.

Shit sometimes even works.]

Stop checking out my fridge, Lalonde. I see you eying up that crisper. Full of cucumbers and peppers and all that good shit.

Is that what that was? Hm. [She turns to go back to where she was indeed raiding the fridge, inspecting its contents. He's improved his eating habits, she's pleased to find. Not a single bag of Funyuns in sight, thank god—they did such awful things to one's breath. And even though she knows that this sudden health food kick stems from unhealthy places, she's secretly glad that he's no longer being fueled by high-fructose corn syrup , red dye number seven, and sugar.

She notices, of course, the liquor cabinet, but that's the one thing she refuses to comment on, because she knows more than anyone what it's like to need to drink, and what it's like to be scolded for it. She doesn't think Dave has a problem, but her own issues with alcohol are so personal that she can't bring herself to even warn him away from it.

She turns, closing the fridge and leaning against the counter with her arms crossed. Dave is shirtless, which she's used to by now, and she can tell he's gotten stronger, as his pallid teenage-boy body turned to lean muscle marred with the occasional scar—

she'd like to trace her fingers all over those scars, maybe her lips too—

but she has the self-control not to stare. Her black lips curve into a smile at his scolding.]

It isn't my fault it's so well-stocked with phallic vegetables. Are we trying to send a message, David?

Edited 2013-05-23 15:48 (UTC)

[One thing Dave'd learned was to stop bugging Rose about her occasional urges to drink, once he'd done it a few times himself. In the old days, he would've preferred pot, but pot usually just amplified the headspace he was already in. Booze took him somewhere else. He didn't do it often- it dulled his edges for altogether too long.

He can kinda see Lalonde checking him out, and he's glad because, fuck, it makes him feel like less of a freak. Maybe it's just natural, to have a little ogle at whoever's near you every once in awhile. It'd be nice, though, if he'd dream of other people. He's tried dating other people. They're usually plenty eager for him, but ... it never feels right for Dave.

He smirks slightly as she goes for the obvious joke. Whelp, it's good to know that some things never change. She would try to go Freudian with everything.]

Sometimes a cucumber is just a cucumber, Lalonde. Or maybe the message I'm trying to send out is my incredible fucking virility. I'm such a man even my vegetables have to be manly.

[As for the gay thing, he tried it once. He wouldn't exactly write himself off as being a touch bisexual, but men lacked things he was quite fond of. Breasts, curved hips.]

So what's Dr. Lalonde's diagnosis?

[The Texas twang, normally very faint indeed, comes out a little stronger then.]

Somtimes. [Rose agrees with one of her little, secretive smiles. The ones she knows can be enraging to certain parties unnamed. She goes ahead and hoists herself up onto the counter, surprisingly gracefully for someone with such ample hips, and swings her legs lightly as she thinks.]

And who are you sending this message to, exactly? As far as I know, I'm your most frequent visitor, and certainly the only one who bothers looking in your vegetable drawer.

[Rose leans forward, prodding her big toe into his bare ribcage.]

Doctor Lalonde is wondering why Mister Strider is trying to prove to his sister how virile and manly he is.

[She's teasing him, definitely teasing, but she's also a little curious as to how he'll react. If he'll take her willingness to even joke about such taboo topics as an invitation, or dismiss it as more of her weird psychobabble. After all, she and Kanaya went their separate ways a while ago, and there hasn't really been anyone since then. She was always supposed to end up with John, but—the idea is laughable to Rose. They're just really not that compatible.

But she and Dave...well. They're twins, technically, and even though their interests differ widely, they have so much more in common than she ever would with John.

She probably needs to see a therapist.]

Glad y'all are in agreement then. [He knows damn well Rose is graceful, and well, those are some hella awesome legs. Hard not to watch them. Why the short skirt, Lalonde? You're making this ... easier? harder? He had no idea. They'd played the game a little bit before, once upon a time when they had no idea they were related. At least he thought their frequent forays into sexual material in chatlogs was flirting. Or might as well have been.]

Don't want to leave any doubt about how fucking awesome I am, I guess. He catches her toe before it reaches his flesh. There's a raw instinct to yank, to disable a strike, but he manages to suppress it and he relaxes enough to let it do whatever it was intending. Nevermind that she's up against a scar and it kinda feels good.]

Mister Strider is wonderin' whether Dr. Lalonde likes it because she's sure acting like it. Pretty sure playin' footsies with my battle scars is considered flirtatious in at least thirty-five states.

[The Texas accent gets thicker and thicker. Yeah, this is fucked, but whatever, it's fun and better than dwelling on horrors in the past or fears about the future.]

But let's get to the treatment. What's the doctor say about that?

[She's patient as he fights off instinct, and when he lets her toe free she does indeed let it mosey along that scar there, tracing as delicately as she can manage along that ropey pink flesh. The question he poses makes her purse her lips, but it's obvious she's only pretending to consider.]

Is it? Hm. I'm a student of psychology, not law, so that must have passed me by somewhere along the line. [She inclines her head, making a soft humming sound as she lets her foot drop to thud gently against the counter.]

But I might be.

[She lets herself slide down from the counter again and gets a little closer to him, seeing how he'll react to her getting all up in his space. This is a combination of a psychology experiment and genuine desire, but she can feel the latter end winning out already. It has been for awhile.]

Hmm. There's been some academic talk about the benefits of physical therapy.

[That touch of her toe goes right to all the wrong places and he finds himself desperately trying to think of something unsexy so he doesn't take the bullet train to Awkward Bonersville. Even if this whole thing ended in him bending her over the kitchen table, he didn't want to tip his hand too ...

The fuck was he even thinking? And yet, he didn't want to back off. He was lonely and kind of curious to see how it'd play out. Thing was, they didn't really have anyone to justify anything to, except possibly the Derp Twins. But for all they know they'd secretly married each other long ago.

He takes another step closer to her. She's grown a little since they ended the game, and grown some nice curves to match, but he's grown taller too, and she's about a full head shorter than he is. He's not his massive brother, Dirk, but he's tall enough.]

Physical therapy.

[Every syllable comes out slow and precise.]

You mind being a little less vague there, Lalonde?

[His voice has tightened a little bit. He'd be lying if he said he wasn't at least a little horny now.]

[She has to look up at him, now, when she never had to before, and she does so now without any hint of shyness. This is the closest they ever get without exchanging an awkward, brother-and-sisterly hug, and it's very different. Good different, but different. She's good at hiding her emotions as ever, face a serene mask, but there are some small indications that she's aroused by all this—her pupils are blown and her pale cheeks are somewhat flushed, even if she doesn't otherwise appear embarrassed or awkward.

She notices the change in his voice, oh yes, she notices, and for once she's divided on whether or not to tease him about it. She could totally destroy him right now, rip him to shreds and leave him a cowering, sexually frustrated mess, but the thing is, she's sexually frustrated too, and the tension between the two of them could slice a fucking diamond.

She smiles, the barest curve of her lips.] Pardon my lack of specificity. To put it into rather frank terms, I'm pretty sure you've been checking me out, Dave. And it's likely that stems from some subconscious prompting—dreams, maybe.

[She grins, and it's sharp.] Correct me if I'm wrong. But the thing is, I have to admit I've been doing the same. And given the fact that you and I mostly only hang out with each other, it follows that we're liable to want to take out our sexual frustrations on each other.

[Rose steps nearer to Dave, leaning her face up into his, before pulling away and brushing past him to cross and rest her fingertips on the little kitchen table, looking back over her shoulder at him.]

Is that specific enough for you?

Edited 2013-05-24 03:37 (UTC)

[Dave can tell. He swears that she smells different now, which is probably ridiculous, but who knew? Maybe one of the side benefits of being godtier was being really aware of pheromones. And yeah, he can see himself being set up for a fall. So there's an odd sense of relief when she doesn't go in for the kill.

Fuck diamonds. The tension between them could fucking kill Lord English.]

You're not bad to look at. Sometimes a guy looks at a girl, Lalonde. Just the way the world works. And dreams, shit, any night I don't have to dream about the world ending or everyone I care about fucking dying? Priceless.

[He does his best to seem nonchalant about it. But it's one thing he's got worse and worse with. He's fought too many battles, died one too many times, felt absolute pants-shitting horror far too many times to be truly flippant.]

Uh huh. So let's cut to the chase, Lalonde.

[He takes the opportunity to get right back in her face, one hand resting on the table near her. He's giving her enough space to back away, but it's clear he wants her to stay.]

You got some sexual tension you want to work out?

[This was it. Go time or go home time. The point of no return. Because Dave was not joking this time. He was dead serious.]

"Not bad." What a gallant compliment, Dave.

[She's joking. She doesn't actually care about gallantry. She knows he's got a tendency to downplay everything, and it doesn't bother her. She can sense his forced nonchalance; he's trying to play it cool, and maybe she is too, because if she wasn't so controlled all the time, he'd be able to see that she's a quivering mess inside. That she could do with a shot of vodka right now, but she's too good at her game to let him see. To let her knees weaken and her mouth tremble.

She doesn't back away. She doesn't want to. She looks up at him through her lashes, tinted black with mascara instead of their usual white-blonde. She has to try to sound casual, which isn't normal. Shit.]

As a matter of fact, yes.

[They've done so much other crazy shit in their short lives, why not check incest off the list?]

How about "I want you more than I've ever wanted anyone in my whole fucking life."?

[He's not backing off, far from it. She's gonna have to be the one to ... and he can see that she isn't going anywhere. There's actually a thin smirk on his face. Good. He'd be pretty fucking sad, actually, if she left now.]

Makes two of us.

[And Dave figures there's been enough talking here, and he just leans town to kiss her. His kiss is lustful, hungry. He's wanted this for a long time, and been denying how much he's wanted her for just about as long. His hand rests on her hip, caressing it while he kisses her like there's no tomorrow.

Because he's not entirely convinced there is going to be one.]

[She's not used to Dave being so direct, so that actually takes her a little bit off-guard. A first for her, when it comes to Dave. She's used to being on top of everything, completely unflappable. Maybe that's where they're the most similar: their ability to stay cool under pressure.

It's quickly eroding.

She just nods in reply. Like, That will do, but mostly she can't bring herself to say anything because she's pretty sure her voice would break if she did. This is...bad, this is bad, she can't even do her usual and say something witty and cutting without worrying about betraying how fucking distracted she is.]

Oh.

[She lets him kiss her, just for a moment, before she comes to her senses and kisses back, rising up on tiptoe to get even closer, to work her mouth against his and match his fervor. Her hand finds his shoulder and pulls, trying to get closer at the same time as she wants to feel his muscle and sinew moving under his skin.]

[He had to learn to be direct when he needed to be, to take what was needed, do what needed to be done. He was on the front line of the final battle, each and every time it was orchestrated. Facing down death so many times, knowing the destruction of your world ... broke down a lot of barriers. A lot of his verbal games were played out of fear. An unwillingness to make real waves in the world.

So he just fucking kisses her for all he's worth, feeling himself pulled closer against her, moving so he's flush against her, his tongue dancing with hers, a mad rush of blood going down to all of the best and worst places.

One thing he was getting tired of, though, were all the clothes she was wearing. Yeah, he wanted to see her naked, but even more, he wanted to feel her against him, skin to skin.]

[She doesn't take long to get over the initial newness of it all, and her hands, long-fingered and close-bitted, move down to explore the exposed flesh of his torso, dancing along scars and ribs and vertebrae, and it she cared to, she could name every bone and every muscle that she grazes, the product of long afternoons spent studying anatomy books out of sheer boredom.

She presses herself up against him easily, fitting herself into the contours of his body, trying to get as close as she can. She has to smirk against his mouth at what the expensive textbooks stacked in her room would have to say about all of this. But no, she's perfectly sane, and more than capable of making this decision. She thinks she probably made it a long time ago.

Her teeth graze his lips, tugging lightly, trying to up the ante. She wonders how long it'll take him to start tugging at her clothes.]

[Dave's knowledge of anatomy was more the practical kind- ie, where you could stick a sword in an enemy to make them stop trying to kill you. Whatever all the specific muscles or bones were called, it felt good to have her hands on him.

Sane or insane, it'd been the two of them for a long time, and he didn't really give a fuck what anyone else thought. He does decide, though, that as great as just kissing and being close is, the clothes have to go. His hands reach down to start lifting up her shirt, hoping she gets the hint and helps out before he starts tearing things off.]

Your skin feels pretty damn good, Lalonde.

[He manages to say between kisses, his hands sliding up her belly along with the fabric of her shirt.]

[She parts from him just enough to facilitate him lifting her shirt, hands departing from their exploration to finish the job, lifting it by the hem and letting it fall to the kitchen floor. She's immediately back at him, humming against his mouth and then replying between kisses:]

Mm—likewise.

[And it does; he's warm from training still, skin surprisingly soft and supple, except where it's not—she can feel the rougher places on his hands where he holds a sword, and that's good, too. Because she's so much shorter than him, it's easy to remove her lips from his and to kiss into the warm place between his jaw and his neck, leaving a smear of lipstick that she quite likes.

She fits her fingers in the waistband of his pants, teasing, toying with the elastic of his underwear even as she uses it as leverage to pull his hips into hers.]

[It doesn't take him long at all for his hands to get right back on her, where they fucking belong. She's still got a pesky bra on, but that'd be taken care of in good time. Which meant probably in the next minute or so.]

It's the moisturizer. Bitches love moisturizer.

[He nips softly just under her ear before finding her pulse, lingering there for a moment. Fuck, it's faster already. And yeah, he can feel that lipstick and fuck if he cares. They're both gonna have some marks, he figures, by the time they're done.

And ... ugh. Even that little teasing just sends a livewire right to his groin and he grinds into her when they come flush again. Little Strider was already at full mast and definitely wanted to be coming out to play soon.]

[She can't help but whine just a little bit at that hint of teeth; it's easy to guess that she's pretty into biting, considering her last relationship. She uses the table behind her as leverage, pressing herself up against him and making a little sound of approval when she feels him already hard against her.]

That must be it.

[Her chest is pressed up against his, and wanting to bypass any trouble he might have with the clasp, she reaches back with one hand and unhooks her bra, letting it follow her shirt, and leaving her in her skirt and panties. She shivers a little bit; it's cool from the air conditioning, and she can already feel her nipples stiffening from a combination of the temperature and her current predicament. She lets them brush against his chest, nails biting into his back a little bit, like she's urging him on.]

[Well, shit ... he's just gonna bite her again, right where he can feel the blood pumping through her. Probably not quite as hard as Kanaya did, because, shit, he isn't a vampire troll, but enough probably to leave a little mark.

Truth is, that Dave's not too bad with clasps. He can thank Terezi for that knowledge. She made him practice like a hundred times before he got to touch her boobs at all. Rose's, though, shit, they feel so much better in hand. He cups one of them and gives it a squeeze, thumb brushing over a hardening nipple.]

Damn, Lalonde.

[He didn't quite mean to say that out loud. He's ... kinda thought she was super hot for a long time, but she's really, really grown up well. His other hand stays on her hip, holding there so he can really grind up against her.]

Mmf.

[Shit, he read her like a book, didn't he? It's like some weird kind of role reversal, but then again Dave has always had pretty good instincts. Her nails dig a little harder into skin and scar tissue. Her breath comes out in a huff when he cups her breast, and she lets her eyes fall shut just for a moment, just to feel for a moment. Then she pulls back, looking him in the eyes—well, shades, but she's close enough that she can make out the ghosts of his eyes behind them—and raises her eyebrows. Her cheeks are pink, but her voice is controlled.]

Are you going to fuck me on this table, or what?

[Dave stops when she speaks. Come to think of it, as good as it feels to grind up against her, he'd much rather get his cock inside her.]

That was the plan.

[They could do the nice, civilized thing and move to the bedroom for round two. Moving location would waste valuable time. His hands drop down to unbutton that skirt of hers. Sadly, because her absolutely magnificent ass is sitting on it, he's gonna need some cooperation from her to fully get her naked.

With that forthcoming, though, her panties are sure as fuck going to be next.]

Lovely. This definitely isn't taboo enough.

[She grins wickedly; that was exactly what she wanted to hear. She angles her hips up toward his hands, accommodating his fingers as they go for the button on her skirt, and then leaning forward to give him room to pull it down. She takes the opportunity to return her own hands to his waistband, deftly unbuttoning and unzipping his fly.]

[Once she's done that, he's gonna get those pants and what's underneath in record time, where he's gonna pop up at a fucking 45 degree angle right after he does that. And because he isn't a total barbarian, the socks go off too. Which leaves her in those panties, which normally he'd love to admire for awhile but shit, they're in the way right now. He reaches up to the waistband of the panties to tug them off too.]

If we're gonna be violating social norms, might as well go all the fucking way.

[He keeps the glasses on, though. It's a thing with him.]

The Incest Meme

Re: Rose Lalonde | Homestuck | OTA

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Wherein my internet dies for a few days :(

aww, no worries! :3

Re: aww, no worries! :3

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