Whitzz/544K-RP-Datasets huggingface dataset:
Thread: Inside Power Exchange [GypsyRose & Dane Stalling]

Matt shrugged, smiled, and knocked on the door. The alcohol had him wrapped in a comfortable buzz, and the walk over to the temporary studio had been... intriguing. He had walked close to Regan, his hand on the small of her back under the jacket. Watching her walk was a pleasure, but feeling her rhythm was delightful. He had bumped her hip just to feel her move against him, and wasn't disappointed. Every step felt like a dance, and he led, like a dance, with his hand. He steered her around broken glass, stopped in front of a store window just to look at her reflection. Then pressed her back subtly to start walking again. There was no answer at the door. He pounded a few times, but the building was silent and no light shone through the cracks under the door or in the few scratches in the blacked out windows. Nobody's here, he said, backing up and checking to see if any of the upstairs windows were open, but you're right- what if I'd left my wallet in there? He pulled out his phone and dialed his agent. He put her on the speaker and grinned at Regan, but put his finger on her lips for a moment to signal quiet. Hey Donna, I need to get into the set. Can you call someone for me? Fuck off, she said. He had awakened her. Seriously. I need to get in. What for? You don't have any lines to rehearse. I left something in there. You left what? What do you care? My dignity. It's in there and I need it tonight. And my practice whip and I was thinking of sleeping in a leather mask tonight to get into character. Just call someone and get this place open for me. Back door, she said, and he heard a page flip on her ever-present notebook. 4872Y on the keypad and never call me at night again or I'll shove your phone in a hot, tight place that will make you... She hung up. Love you too, Donna. He repeated the code out loud, just to keep it in mind. The back door opened on the first try and they went in. Matt felt for a light switch, found it, and the costuming room flooded with light. He had seen the room earlier, but he had been focused on the toy table at the other end. He hadn't appreciated the number of costumes they had hanging on long rolling racks. It looked like they had raided the costume closets of every production in the city, and he found that someone had gone to the trouble of pulling costumes that were his size. He guessed that all of the women's costumes would fit Regan perfectly. He picked the closest dress off of a rack and held it up to her. Too barmaid. He tried a few others. Too schoolgirl, too hippie, too housewife. He took Regan's jacket off of her shoulders and hung it along with the costumes. He looked at her, watched the rise and fall of her breasts as she breathed. He wanted to push her against the wall and kiss her until she gasped for air, but he stood still and licked his lips. Find one that would please a king. He backed away a couple of steps, watching her eyes, then turned to see if he could find something that looked royal and decadent.
Thread: Inside Power Exchange [GypsyRose & Dane Stalling]

Matt flipped through a few costumes down the row from where Regan started. The little game he had started on the throne in the club had been tickling at his mind the whole evening, the way Regan had looked up at him, and the growing sense that she might have done literally anything he said was a strange feeling, one he wasn't used to. Maybe it was just the possibility of control of someone else, or maybe this was what it meant to thirst for power. It felt good. And it scared him too. He had seen power wielded destructively, in families, in the entertainment business, in relationships, hell, in governments. He had always kept his characters distinct from himself, but he had to admit that playing a scrubbed face for a commercial wasn't really a temptation. This, though, was different. Playing a decadent king with a lust for power felt good, but that potential for destruction bothered his mind. He wondered if he would have thought differently if Regan hadn't impressed him not only with her beauty, but with her evident professionalism? Would he have been able, even in character, to harm someone he didn't care about? He flipped through endless royal tights and purple fur robes. Costumes for old kings. He found a small closet, though, and when he opened it he found something much better. Leather pants and a loose, white silk shirt. A pair of boots sat on the floor. There was even a small box of jewelry. There were a few rings, mostly iron and silver, and when they had stones, they were not shining cuts, but flat, organic gems- turquoise, jade, and jet. There were leather thongs with smooth stones as well, and he chose a bloodstone on a length of leather for his neck and a few leather bracelets. He wondered what role had prompted such care and detail. The costume was not meant to look ceremonial, but luxurious every-day wear. He dressed in a small dressing closet with a curtain. He wondered if most actors in this kind of production even used dressing rooms, but it had a mirror and tonight there was no costuming staff. He laced up the pants and looked at himself, letting his features take on a more arrogant expression than usual. It seemed to fit the costume. The set was dark when he arrived, and Regan wasn't there, so he went to the lighting console and turned on a few warm overheads, then he saw that they had a smoke machine to catch atmospheric light. He turned it on. It wouldn't take long to fill the room with a mist burning in the lights. He circled the throne again, as he had before, but he wanted to keep Regan off-balance. He wanted to control the situation. He stood and waited against the back wall in the dark so that she would pass him as she entered, her attention drawn, no doubt to the throne. He would be able to seize her from behind if he wanted. He would be able to grasp her hair, shove her to the floor, or merely follow her silently, speak a quiet word. Power was in possibilities, and he wasn't entirely sure what he would do when she entered.
Thread: Inside Power Exchange [GypsyRose & Dane Stalling]

Matt breathed the odd sweetness of the artificial smoke. If he let his mind wander, he could just imagine that it was the scent of a mead bowl. He waited, breathing slowly, waiting. He felt excited, both because of the unknown of the immediate future, and because he had some control of what that future would hold. He let his eyes half-close. He could hear Regans steps, both brave and afraid, and her fear, whether it was an act or not, gave him another kind of excitement. The thrill of the predator before a kill. It would be too easy though, over too quickly just to attack. It wasnt about the conquest, he realized, it was about drinking power in delectable, luxurious sips. It was about making his prey aware of that fact. She walked by him, close enough to smell her scent, her perfume. She took a few steps beyond him and he waited. Your Highness? The light from the throne spilled onto her as she advanced toward it, where he should have been. The dress spoke volumes. She was no simple gift to him. No, the complicated relationship between innocence and blatant invitation made clear that whatever he thought he would get, there were strings attached. What those strings consisted of, he would find out soon enough, but he would not be manipulated easily. If he gave something, he would give it without compulsion. If that meant that strings needed to be broken, so be it. He stepped behind her quietly, put one hand on her right hip and the other on her left shoulder. Still, woman, he said, Do not turn. You know my voice. He touched the back of her neck with the tip of a finger. The lifting of her hair revealed a most shapely throat, and he slipped his finger under the black strap around it. Is it now acceptable to enter my throne room without an invitation? I have sent subjects to the whipping post for less. He let the hand on her hip fall to the back of her thigh. Her skin was smooth and warm. He wanted to taste it, but this character refused to kneel, or even to lower his head below the level of hers. He touched his cheek to her hair. Youre a sweet treat, arent you? But I wonder what compels you into my presence? And what poison do you hide under your tongue? Or do you have it hidden elsewhere? My wine taster would relish a tumble with such as you. At one level, Matt was surprised at the things that were coming out of his mouth, but the actor in him fell further and further into the character, and it seemed natural to speak arrogantly, as though he were used to possessing. Or do you also burn, I wonder? He pressed against her back, pulling back on the strap around her throat, and bit her earlobe. Tell me what you wish for, woman, he said into her ear, and what you will do to get it. Speak now.
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Thread: Heya Puddin' [ Bear & InitiateInspiration ]

Twelve. That's what they gave him. Twelve life sentences, all to be served consecutively. They'd tried for the death penalty. But you can't put someone to death when they're criminally insane, can you? They said that he didn't know what he was doing. That he didn't even know the difference between right and wrong. So instead they just locked him up and hoped that the world would forget about him. They hoped that he'd rot in his cage till there was nothing left but a shell of the Clown Prince of Crime. But they were so wrong. They called him The Joker, but truth was, he was a man with no name. A man with no identity. He was more like a force of nature. A being that could bend the world to his whim. Shape it to his imagination. And oh what an imagination it was. They thought that the cage they'd put him in would hold him. But they didn't realize that the cage would not hold him. It would be his new playground. And everyone within it his new playthings. The guards. The prisoners. The warden. Everyone was his. There was nothing that went on within these walls that HE did not hear about. No, not a thing. So when he heard that Doctor Quinzel was bringing his dear, sweet Harleen to evaluate Mr. Jones, how could he not have a little fun? He'd met Casey Jones in the mess hall and confronted him. He asked nicely if Mr. Jones wouldn't mind giving up his appointment with the young girl. But poor Mr. Jones, he wasn't much in the way of brains. He thought it was a good idea to deny the Joker his request. And so, that night, Mr. Jones found himself with a permanent smile carved on his face, as well as a new opening in his throat for him to breathe through. Such a happy guy didn't need a therapy session, did he? When she arrived in the room the door quickly shut, and the Joker just smiled at the young girl. She looked so proper and professional. Just like her father. He smiled wide at her as he leaned back in his seat. Little Ms. Quinzel I presume. He said with a grin that looked like the cat that had just eaten the canary. Please, have a seat. Make yourself comfortable. He said with such confidence. I hear you wanted to evaluate one of the nuts here at the Asylum. Is that right my dear? He asked as his eyes seemed to burn holes as he gazed into her. As if the man could peer into her soul.
Thread: Heya Puddin' [ Bear & InitiateInspiration ]

size-2From the moment that the orderly closed the door and left the room to be just the two of them again, her skin was crawling. Adrenaline was pumping through her veins in a mix of excitement and fear, her arms hugging the case files to her chest in a subconscious way of protecting herself against the man that had most certainly performed so many villainous and violent acts against his fellow man. Her father had warned her to stay away from him, far far away, but that only made her more interested in him. He wasnt some old man that had made mistakes years ago when unmedicated. He was a lunatic, plain and simple. Harleen did her best to straighten herself up as much as possible, crossing the room in her best impression of calm, cool, and collected as she could, setting her case files down onto the table in between them and shuffling them as if she had all the time in the world. She couldnt stop her hands from shaking, though, and couldnt help the queasy feeling in her gut that was making her feel on the edge of tossing up her breakfast from this morning. Mister J, She cleared her throat gently and offered him her best professional smile, We do not call our patients here at Arkham nuts... We prefer to use words that are deemed more appropriate - mentally unstable, for one. Harleen crossed her fingers through each other and set them on her papers, staring at them as if they were the most interesting thing in the world suddenly, Now, you were not the patient that I was Intended to speak with, but Im sure that we can speak and maybe I can offer you some help with what youre dealing with. Her eyes were shy but curious when they lifted again, meeting his though she hesitated, Tell me -- do you know why youre here ? size
Thread: Heya Puddin' [ Bear & InitiateInspiration ]

He could smell it on her like she'd been rolling around in shit. The fear, the excitement, the adrenaline. That cocktail was powerful. If she hugged that case file any harder it would burst into a million pieces. It was like she was using it as a shield. But it would not protect her. No, not from him. Not that she needed protection. Not yet at least. No, she was his new toy, and The Joker wanted to play. He'd missed having fun. These walls, sure, he could find ways to amuse himself within them, but there was nothing like a brand new toy to get the blood flowing. And she was certainly brand new. An innocent, pure, untainted little thing. She had no idea the things he could do to her. He watched as she tried desperately to put on a professional demeanor and get herself together, but he knew that it was a near impossible task. He'd gotten under her skin the moment she entered the room. He crawled around just under her top layer, and she could feel it. When she finally spoke again he grinned even wider. We don't? And what do we call them Ms. Quinzel? Loons? Freaks? Crazies? Bonkers? Oh, I know! BANANAS! BWAHAHAHAHAHAHA! He cackled out as he leaned back in his seat and began kicking his feet. He was certainly enjoying himself. Mentally unstable? What about unstabley mental? He asked as he leaned forward glaring into her eyes. I don't think mentally unstable really applies to me though. I'm more....mentally volatile. Like a barrel of explosives waiting for that little catalyst to set it off. So make it go BOOOOOOOOM! His arms flailed in the air as he nearly fell back in his seat mimicing the explosion. When she said that they can speak and she could offer him some help he got serious, but the smile never left his face. Oh oh oh. You want to heeeeelp me? Alright, alright. Please Doctor. Have a seat. Let's chat. He said as he pretended to straighten his non-existent tie and sit up straight in his seat. He placed his hands flat on the table, acting like he was interested in what she was ready to ask him. Sure, I know why I'm here. I'm here because your society thinks that they can cage me up. They think they can lock me up behind these walls and throw away the key. They think that by me being in here they're somehow safe and secure. It's like a warm safety blanket letting them sleep soundly at night. He said with a playful smirk. Now what about you Ms. Quinzel. Tell me...do you know why YoOooOooOOoooOOOoU'RE here? He asked as he leaned forward closer to her from across the table.
Thread: Heya Puddin' [ Bear & InitiateInspiration ]

size-2The voice of reason that spoke inside every normal persons head finally decided to put its word in on the situation - Youre in over your head, Harleen. You need to leave the room and let the real professionals deal with him. You need to get out. She really should have listened to this voice that was tickling through the back of her mind and raising the hairs on her neck with all the hard earned instincts that a girl like her ought to have. She had promised her father that she would be safe and that she would play things by the books But there was another piece of her, a harder part of her that wouldnt let this go over so easy. No, she couldnt walk away from this, even for the sake of her safety. Her pride was at stake here. She forced herself to try and remain cool as the man did his best to get beneath her skin, his manic motions and wild gestures only symptoms of the overall absolute lunacy that was his mind. His thoughts were shambles, but she tried to remind herself of the one thing her father had always told her about this man - Yes, he was crazy. But he was crazy like a fox. Instead of letting his gestures make her feel unsafe, she did her best to put her mind to watching every tick, every move, and catch every word that fell out of his mouth. And even though he was crazy, he was absolutely right. He wasnt merely mentally unstable - he was mentally volatile. He was gasoline just waiting for a spark, so eager to be near a flame that he could almost taste it. He was reckless in how badly he wanted to explode, how much he just wanted to damage and hurt everything around him. She made a mental note of something else, as well - his sense of superiority. He didnt just believe that he would be let out. He knew down to the very core of his being that his stay in Arkham was only temporary and that he wouldnt be here until the day he died. Harleen did her best to at least look calmer than what she felt, because her heart was still racing in her chest and adrenaline still being pumped into her veins from the close proximity to sheer insanity. We both know why Im here, Mister J. She did her best to deflect, offering him the small, professional smile that she had practiced so many times before. Twelve life sentences. She stated the fact plainly, But you still believe that youre getting out. She was just stating what he had made quite obvious. He didnt think that any place could contain him. How do you think that will happen? This was out of curiosity more than anything else. She had heard horrible stories about him and she was curious just how far gone he truly was. Sure, he had killed people, but there were so many out there that had done that. What made him so special?size
Thread: Heya Puddin' [ Bear & InitiateInspiration ]

His movements and actions may have been manic, but one thing remained constant. His eye contact with her. He never broke it. Never faltered. He gazed into her eyes as if peering down into her soul. Seeing what lie beneath the mask she wore. She was trying so HARD to be something she wasn't. Trying so HARD to hide her fascination with him. But he saw it all. He ate it up. Relished in it. Even her little pet name for him 'Mister J' was a form of adoration that she was subconsciously projecting onto him. Mister J? I like that. It makes me feel important. Makes me feel special. Say it again for me, pretty please. He said as he leaned forward, reaching his hand out and gently touching her cheek. His touch was soft and sweet, seemingly luring her deeper into his gaze. He didn't answer her question though. Not yet at least. Shaking his head he just smiled at her. Not yet Harleen. Wait...no...if I get a fun little nickname, I'm going to give you one. He said with a laugh, an excited look on his face. Harleen, god, sounds so boring. Harleen....Harleen...Harleen... He tapped his chin pensively as he thought about what he was going to call her. Got it! He then exclaimed with excitement and a youthful playfulness on his face. Harley! Harley Quinn! He said as he jumped happily in his seat. Now tell me my pretty little Harley. What are YOU doing here in Arkham? What are you reeeeeeeally doing here? He asked as he leaned in closer to her. Because the way I look at it, seeing you all dressed in your fancy professional clothes, looking so sterile and clean, you my dear look like the real prisoner. He said with a cocky smirk on his face. Leaning back in his seat he ran his fingers through his bright green hair. That smile almost brightening up the room. Now now my little Harley. I can't give away all my secrets, can I? The way he said my little Harley there was almost a possessiveness in his voice. A sense of ownership to her.
Thread: Heya Puddin' [ Bear & InitiateInspiration ]

size-2Talking to him like he was a patient wasnt going to get her anywhere and that much was becoming blatantly more obvious to her. She had tried to extend him the least bit of courtesy she could by still treating him with respect - her insistence on calling him Mister J had been as close to being respectful as she could without knowing his real name. But that was fine, she knew his game and the gears in her brain were working slowly to get a plan in effect. Her thoughts were scrambled by his hand, which she hadnt expected. He was a criminal with a nightmarish violent background so tenderness wasnt something she had expected from him. It was almost A romantic touch. Stop it, Harleen. That was the mind of a hormonal young adult talking, not the mind of a young professional. She composed herself, but her mask had slipped horribly. He couldnt possibly have known the cold, clinical life that she had lead at home, couldnt possibly know the psychology behind her own upbringing that lead her to desire attention and adoration from someone - anyone, really. He couldnt know. It was just a random chance. She let out a brief sigh and leaned back in her chair, consciously attempting to get some distance between the two of them because the air was getting thick, almost hard for her to breathe. Her arms crossed over her chest slowly and she chewed her lip at the corner a bit. Alright, She nodded, mostly to herself. He wanted to play a game, he wanted to try and break her down and turn the tables on her so that she was the one that was the victim. His ploy wasnt subtle in the least bit, but what else would you expect from a mind like his? Alright, She said again, How about we make a deal, Mister J? Harleen crossed her legs, keeping up her professional pose in at least a small amount, All it would take for me to leave this room and never come back is just one mention of the clerical error that was made today that caused Mister Jones to not be in this room with me Now, I could conveniently mistake you for Mister Jones because, She let out a small laugh here, almost a playful giggle, Silly me , Im just seventeen Or I could walk out right now and fix the mistake so that you go back to your regularly scheduled appointments with a real professional All Im asking for is you answer my questions Does that sound like a deal Mister J ? She leaned forward now, a smirk on her face. This was at least one regard in which she had the upper hand.size