bakerstreet | The Mindfuck Meme

Skip to Main Content

Entry tags:

The Mindfuck Meme

The Mindfuck Meme: Expanded Ed. 1

This is not a very nice meme. If you have any major or typical triggers, you're being warned here that you might want to keep fully clear. That said, ever misread 'midfuck meme' with an extra 'n' in it and been sorely disappointed? This one's for you!

This version of the mindfuck meme is expanded from the first! It's been nabbed from memekingdom on LJ.

1. Post a character! It'd sure be nice if you put their name, canon, and any prefs you might have in the subject line. **Please note that this meme is open to both sexual and platonic content and you may want to list non-sexual rp as one of your prefs.**
2. When other characters tag in, they'll be using ye olde RNG (1-13) to figure out just how they'll be fucking your character's mind ~~and maybe their body~~.
3. Be royally screwed up and need therapy for decades.

Mindfuck Possibilities:

1. I Own You: It doesn't have to be sexual (though it can be). It doesn't have to be very abusive (though it might be). But you know you own this person and you will break them down until they can accept the truth of it. All that they are—body, mind, and soul—is yours. They should have known that from the beginning. Now they'll know it 'til the end.

2. We're One and the Same: What this other person doesn't get is that you're two sides of the same coin. You practically own each other! No one else will complete them the way you can. You're twins. Brothers from another mother (or was that the same mother?). They won't get away until they acknowledge that to escape is to deny everything they are. Good thing you're ready to help.

3. Nobody Has Ever Loved You (Like I Do): This person doesn't understand how worthless they are—how they've been abandoned on purpose by anyone they ever cared about. The only thing they have left—the one creature that doesn't despise them utterly—is you. And maybe you're about fed up as well and they should grovel at your feet.

4. By Your Bedside ~~(YANDERE)~~: You love them. You love them utterly and how have they betrayed you? Ruthlessly! Talking to others—looking at others. Disgusting. You aren't going to allow it anymore. They need to understand the importance of your love. What's that? Maybe you aren't in a relationship by any… real, official standards? Heh. That can be fixed!

5. You're a Doll, Doll: Some people just don't get it. They think they have rights the same as anyone else. They don't see how they're only a puppet or a pet. Something less than you—less than anything. They belong on a leash or sitting pretty on a shelf. Poor darling! Lucky for them you've taken an interest in setting them straight (or… really gay).

6. Stop Forcing My Hand: It's not your fault you're tying them down! It isn't your fault they need your initials engraved in their skin! They made you. They stared at you with those eyes or they did those awful things (awful being rather subjective)! You wish they could apologize enough for such atrocities. You'd love to let them go. You don't want to do this even if it's possibly getting you off to an excessive extent! You're the victim, all right? Fucker should learn to shut up when they're told to.

7. Kiss Me and Smile at Me: Time for a little mindcontrol up in here! With the power of your will, you're able to control the other person completely. Tell them to jump, they jump. Tell them to beg—oh. There will be begging. And don't they deserve it? Unfortunately, the effect isn't always complete and sometimes your target knows in their heart and mind that they don't want to be doing just as they're ordered. Too fucking bad. This is a mindfuck meme, after all.

8. Such a Child: If this kid doesn't want to listen and do as their told, it's time you start treating them like the brat they so want to be. Up to you how far this goes, though spanking and taking control of your target's life seem like the mostobvious solutions. And who cares if they're actually younger or technically older—they need to learn to sit up straight! Not slurp their soup! Do as they're expected to as a part of society. And if they won't, it's only fair for you to convince them.

9. A Permanent Stain: All right. All right. You'll be fine as long as you leave this mark on them. Maybe a small tattoo will do or perhaps you're the type who wants to cover their entire back with your initials. A piercing? Sure! Or five. Whatever—all you know is it's time there's something physical to show your connection. Just the scent of you on them isn't enough anymore and this is surely the only way to stake your claim.

10. Escape Cockblocker: While really any other options could involve this, you've gotten down containing your target to an art form. You know all their weaknesses and what shackles fit them best. You can keep their powers at bay and break their spirit (or profess your adoration!) at your leisure. Your expertise in containment is absolute. And now it's time to test the waters.

11. BRUTALITY K.O.: Eh, it's easy to be dark and brooding. It's simple to concoct gorgeous plans, but sometimes? Violence with a little brainwashing between punches and bone-crunching is the best way to go. With this prompt, your tactics are all violent. You'll snap fingers and crack ribs all in order to help get your message across. They'll learn to love you for it. You've got more than all day.

12. Feeling Superior: This is all about your rank! Either you're sick of having been under this person's heel or you've always wondered why they don't defer to your superior position. Upping the ante regardless. They should know by now that they should lick the floor when you ask for it so politely. You're in charge. Call it a further promotion, if you will. Call it learning to excel.

13. Creepozoid's Choice!: Pick any of the options above or a 13th sort of mindfuck not explicitly listed. Remember, 13 is always an open option if you'd rather not roll or if you want to mix any series of numbers together.

Flat | Top-Level Comments Only

[Petyr watched his 'daughter' walking around the hall, ruling the Vale of Arryn as she did so. His careful grooming of her was paying off, it was almost too much for him to keep his desire in check in their company. The Vale was his stepping stone. All he needed to complete his world was the Stark girl. She was so like her mother at that same age...]

[ Alayne settled into her role easily enough, taking charge of the business of running the Vale, while managing to handle Robert. She did occasionally look up to find Petyr watching her in a way that gave her pause but he had not yet done anything to warrant the vague discomfort she felt.

He had become a necessary part of her life, and she was grateful to him, but the way he looked at her... ]

Did you need something, Father?

[There was still company in the room for now, so he simply addressed her as usual. His little captive bird - and yet that same cage kept her safe and alive.]

No, my child, I was just thinking over a matter.

[ She moved up beside him, giving no sign of her concerns, although his response had been vague as was his habit. She let it slide for the moment, her attention returning to their guests. Alayne dispensing with what formalities were required, seemingly having forgotten the brief conversation.

After they had gone, she turned to face him again though, her expression still a polite mask.]

Would it be something you'd wish to discuss with me or is it a matter not concerning the Vale at all?

[Their guests gone, he turned back to his charge]

Even though you are but my baseborn get, you have taken to rule of the Vale well. 'Sweetrobin' adores you and the others are following his suit.

You have learned well, Alayne.

I have been taught by the best.
[ The reply is phrased neutrally, the veil of Alayne as comfortable as her own skin to her by now. ]

Only the best for my daughter. [He indicated that she should come and be closer to him]

I promised I would keep you safe and I have delivered you the Vale.

*As far as captors go, Drusilla isn't... the worst possible. Sometimes. In her mind, she's quite a good mummy, indeed: she means to dress her little doll in the prettiest silks, to brush her hair out till it glistens (and she doesn't even tug at the knots impatiently, not anymore), to make sure she wants for nothing.

That is, of course, a subjective term, nothing is; she doesn't see why the girl would want more than what is offered her. Attention, protection, all of it. Dru doesn't even take sips of her darling girl, not yet. She likes the company. Of course, she expects perfect obedience in return, but that's not much to ask of a doll, is it?*

[Let's start with something familiar. A dark room, with no windows and presumably not much space. The air is stale and warm, so it must be pretty enclosed. Leon's seated on a chair--hard, plain--and his hands are bound together at the wrists behind the back of it. Probably nothing he hasn't encountered before.

Even the voice is recognizable, when his captor finally speaks up. He sounds calm, maybe even a little bored, but that's all speculation.]

Well, this is a disappointment. And I thought you were supposed to be an expert by now.

[It takes him a moment to realize the voice isn't coming from inside his head. Hands struggling with the ties that bind him, his eyes dart around the room, trying to catch a glimpse of his apparent impersonator.

Too dark to make anything out. This situation was more unsettling than he'd care to admit – the kidnapping part wasn't new, nor was the taunting, but that voice...

Rolling the kink out of his neck, he glares nowhere in particular.]

Show yourself.

Heh. [The laugh is just that single note, but it echoes in the darkness. The room sounds hollow, if it is a room, and Leon's voice answers him with cordial amusement.]

I thought that you'd never ask.

[Part of the black mass in front of Leon shifts and floats closer, taking shape as it approaches. He seems to step into some sort of pale light, even though there is no visible source. Leon stops just a few feet away from the chair and stretches, rolling his shoulders very much like the other man had just been doing moments earlier.]

That feels a lot better. Now, where were we? Oh, yeah.

[He looks back to his double, eyeing him as if he were weighing some critical next move.]

Looks like you got yourself in a little jam, Leon.

[The air is completely still as he stares, eyes wide, body involuntarily jerking back in the chair. Of all the things he expected to see, himself was not one of them. It's surreal, like a dream, but the pain he feels against his wrists signals otherwise.

It had to be a hologram. An illusion. Something meant to stir him up. That's all.

He exhales deeply before speaking again. The thick, musty odor wasn't helping him relax, but he manages to keep a calm enough tone.]

Nice trick.

[Even if he's convinced of that, looking at his reflection proves a little too disturbing. Instead, he chooses to focus his gaze on the floor.]

What are you trying to get out of this, anyway? Information? Money?

[The man standing in front of Leon inclines his head as if accepting a compliment, but doesn't comment on the mention of the "trick". After all, it's already effective without saying anything, and whether it is real or not, he knows it's working. He paces around his prisoner with slow, even steps as he looks him over. Examines him like he were some obstacle that needs to be overcome. The dark leather he's wearing seems to meld with the shadows, but there is the distinct shape of a jacket and a tight combat shirt beneath.]

I just want to talk.

[He sounds gentle; sympathetic. Almost apologetic, with the tired voice Leon often uses when he's trying to explain something on the job. The kind of tone you use to let someone know that their town is fucked and there's only one way out--through their friends.]

I would've called first, but the reception is hell in this place. All that government access and connections and you can't buy two minutes to yourself. Crazy, huh?

[He stops his circuit on Leon's right side, crouching so he can look at his face, even if it is lowered.]

How you been lately? Not so good, I think.

Edited (oops) 2012-03-26 12:31 (UTC)

[Those words – his words, somehow – grated his ears. He wanted to ignore it. Tune it out and think of a way to escape. But the delivery was far too convincing, worming its way into his mind and making it difficult to distinguish his thoughts. The way that voice blended with his own, swirling through his conscience with each inflection, almost left him dizzy.

Practically feeling the other man's breath on his cheek, he leans away, tilting his head toward the opposite wall.]

Good enough. Still alive, aren't I?

Yeah... Yeah. I guess you are.

[He sounds unconvinced. Weary, but not weak. No, because sounding weak might actually be reassuring in that case, wouldn't it? He's not going to give Leon that comfort. Not yet.]

Sometimes it doesn't feel that way, though. Does it? You spend too many days in the middle of some hell you stumbled into... You weren't even supposed to be alive, you know?

And then it all kind of feels like a mistake. Who knows? Maybe you should have been on time. Things aren't getting any better either way.

[He tilts his head, catching Leon's eye with a curious stare. It's as if he's trying to decide just what he's looking at. Maybe why the other man keeps turning away. His next words are firm. Criticizing, even though he doesn't raise his voice. It's a command nonetheless. Maybe a threat.]

You need to get more sleep. It's starting to show.

Edited 2012-03-26 15:14 (UTC)

Aw, come on Shepard. You've faced geth, reapers, the complete destruction of the universe how many times, you're gonna tell me you're scared of an itsy-bitsy little piercing job?

[She's got a needle and she's not afraid to use it.]

[Alright, he's not afraid of the needle; he's a soldier, a needle is the least of his concerns. But he leans back some, crossing his arms skeptically. He's gonna need some convincing or a few beers.]

You know me, Jack. Maybe I helped save the galaxy once or twice, but I still have to follow Alliance regulations. [The most casual he gets is still N7 wear.] And I think you know how they feel about piercings.

Well unless you plan on stripping off in front of Anderson, the Alliance isn't even going to know it's there.

[Which gives a pretty clear picture of exactly where she's planning on sticking this thing.]

And by the way, if you do plan on stripping for that crusty old bastard? Do me a favor and don't tell me about it.

[It's pretty obvious when he gets exactly where this is going.]

Trust me, I'm not planning on stripping for him, but... [But there are plenty of other reasons to not go through with this.]

Don't tell me you've done this before?

The list of shit I haven't done before could probably fit on a candy-bar wrapper.

[Not exactly a specific answer to his question, but hey, how hard could it be to push a piece of metal into someone? Hell, she does that sort of thing all the time.]

Are you saying you'd rather have Chakwas stick it in?

[John isn't missing that he didn't get a straight answer. If this were anyone else... but she seems set on it. This is the least destructive thing she's asked of him. Minimal damage involved. He takes a deep breath.]

I'm not guaranteeing you that it'll stay.

Wait a minute. You're seriously letting me do this?

[She watches him a moment, then shakes her head.]

You're either a whole lot dumber than I thought or...you really trust me.

I know I've done some crazy things these last few years, but I'm not stupid.

[He's already undoing the clasps on his military casuals. Better to jump head first into this.]

I'm trusting you on this one.

[And whether she wants to believe it or not, he's trusted her for awhile now.]

Shit. [She's hates when he does crap like this. Make her get all emotional and misty eyed over something so stupid.]

Well now I can't do it.

Hey. [He stops what he's doing -- belt and button undone -- to put a hand on her shoulder.]

Should I get Dr. Chakwas to do this now?

No fucking way. [She moves in closer, one palm sliding over his chest.]

But I'm gonna need to put this thing somewhere else now. I'll be using that other part of yours in about two minutes, and I don't want to wait for the medi-gel to kick in.

[He laughs, just a short and quiet quiet chuckle. His hand slips over a couple inches of inked skin on her shoulder before he drops his hand down to sit loosely on her waist.]

Well, I don't mind the change of plans. It's your call where it goes, Jack.

Don't worry. I'll still put it somewhere the Alliance won't be looking.

[But since his pants seem to be undone anyway, she's just going to take advantage of that for a quick grope.]

That's a tease, you know. [But that's not exactly a complaint, even if they do have something else to be focused on. For once, a distraction isn't bad. The galaxy isn't on the verge of ending.]

'Tease' is only half of that word, Shepard. [And she's got the other half in her hot little hand.]

I've got to find some way to make my mark on you. So you won't forget what you're supposed to be fighting for.

[That gets a wry smile. He's more than a little aware of the other half of that word.]

I hate to break it to you, but I don't need a piercing for that. I'm not going to forget about you. [He doesn't think he's going to convince her, though, so he settles with leaning forward and kissing her. And he's gentle as usual about it.]

[She's not as gentle, but he's never complained about that before and she doesn't think he'll start now.]

You'd better not. [A little biotic power and she can push him back against the wall pretty easily, despite his height and muscle advantage.] I'd get pissed off.

[And John doesn't start complaining now, not about the kiss or biotics. He doesn't fight the biotic push either.]

I promise I won't. It's your turn to trust me. [His arm curls around her waist, pulling her and her needle closer.]

That's not exactly something I'm good at. [She drags the needle over his skin, not quite hard enough to pierce through. Her free hand moves to his right nipple, pinching it hard enough to cut the blood supply.]

I've already let you get too close.

[He doesn't do much more than flinch, eyes still firmly fixed on her -- not the needle.] I'm not asking you to be good at it. Just try it sometime.

You've already let me this close and nothing bad's happened, right?

Nothing bad's happened yet. [She waits until the skin pales and gets numb before sliding the needle through, neat and clean and nothing like the messy wounds she's used to delivering. She leaves the needle in while she digs the silver barbell stud from her pocket.]

Anyway, it's too fucking late. You're already in here, screwing up everything, making me feel shit...

[The numbing doesn't last long, not with a needle through his nipple. Quick enough, it starts to ache and it sure doesn't look pretty either. He cringes, but somehow, it's still easy to focus on her.]

Nothing bad is going to happen. Not if I can help it.

[He's saved the galaxy once or twice. John can manage this much.]

And what if you can't help it, huh?

[The metal bar pushes in a little wider than the needle. Jack's fingers are bloody by the time she twists the end onto the piercing, and having blood on her hands has never bothered her before. Except this is Shepard's blood and that makes it different. Complicated.]

[The sharp sensation of the metal bar earns a quiet grunt, a twitch of his fingers against her. It hurt, but his daily life was more painful.] If I can't help it... If something bad happens, something I can't stop...

[He takes her bloody hand, not bothered by the sight of his own blood, even on her fingers.] Then you can be pissed at me.

Asshole. [She looks at where she's marked him, swollen skin under glinting silver, and thinks about how it's not even as permanent as her tattoos. If he takes it out, the hole closes, like she was never there.]

You're supposed to say there isn't anything you can't stop.

There isn't. [He can't know that. Not when they both know the opposite is true; he's died before. But even Commander Shepard understands just wanting the comfort.]

It'll be okay, Jack.

You're a shitty liar.

[She squeezes his hand.] But thanks.

[The orders had been swift, with some creativity left to Leo's henchmen. Vincent was only too glad to slash away at the hapless Head Hunter's loose clothing. Lotti prances off like a child entering an amusement park.

When she returned, the latest play for Leo's wicked idea begins. A few minutes in, and the Head Hunter feels like it's already been an eternity. He's on all fours between Lotti and Vincent; other Baskervilles stand around the group, silent and patient. The captive is only allowed to make small groans as Vincent thrusts his cock down Leo's throat and Lotti bucks the phallus of her strap-on deep into his body.]

[ooc: Complete AU and I'm not even gonna try to have it make sense or explain motivations. xD]

Lucifer waved his hand to make the demons leave. He hardly needed them. The Messiah was in chains before him and he wasn't going anywhere. Hell had never been easy to leave, not even - maybe even especially not - for angels.

He gripped Setsuna's chin and tugged the cloth tied around his head from his mouth, meeting his eyes without a change in his own.

"Will you fight on my side, Messiah, or against me?"

His powers were clipped for the moment, exhausted from prior use, and Setsuna slumped in the chains, just giving Lucifer a cold look in return. It hurt, that he looked so much like Kira, but after everything that had occurred, he wasn't going to let himself be ruled by those emotions any longer.

"What do you think?" he spat out when the cloth was removed from his mouth. "I'm not on anyone's side anyway, you idiot! I'm just trying to fix things. I don't even really know what your side IS!"

The back of Lucifer's hand struck Setsuna's chin, not that his face had shown the slightest hint of anger.

"Some things are meant to be broken." His knuckles ran over the side of Setsuna's face with false gentleness and then he grabbed his chin and forced his head back as he caught his gaze. "Perhaps you are, too."

If ever he had any hopes as to whether Kira remained in Lucifer or not, they were gone the second Lucifer struck him. The intensity of the pain, the way he hit him, everything was so different from how Kira ever handled him when he struck him, the rare occasion it did. The pain reverberated beyond the physical level, jarring Setsuna's soul as a reminder of Kira's passing. Gone, he was gone. Very gone.

Cheek burning, he still looked back up at Lucifer, defiance burning in that head-on glare.

"You think you can? You think you stand a chance after I've come back this many times? After Rosiel failed? You really think you can do that?" There was plenty of venom and anger in his words, even though Setsuna was chained and rather helpless for the time, it didn't seem to diminish his spark, not completely. "Bring it! I want to see what makes you think you can!"

"What makes me think I can? But I know you, Messiah. I know you as he has known you." Lucifer smiled for a moment, still holding Setsuna's chin. A familiar smile, perhaps, an expression much more like Kira's than it fit the Demon Lord of Hell.

And then he leaned in and he kissed Setsuna's lips, softly while his fingers gripped his chin hard enough to bruise. He sucked his lower lip between his teeth and bit down hard, hard enough to break skin, draw blood. He pulled away and let go of him completely, smiling coldly once more.

"Do you still want to see?"

Edited 2012-03-31 04:10 (UTC)

It angered him on a level Setsuna didn't know he had, to the point he couldn't even verbalize his fury any longer. Seeing Kira's face in Lucifer's, being kissed by that...that emotionless man - it was all a mockery. It caused him to struggle in his binds as he hissed at Lucifer, just before exploding into a tirade.

"How dare you! What do you really know of me? Those are just memories, you're missing everything important about them, you fucking jackass! You don't really know at all! You're NOT HIM!"

Or was Setsuna just trying to convince himself at this point? What hurt more? The idea Kira was completely gone, or the idea he might still be somewhere inside that heartless creature?

"Oh, but I am. As the sword and all that followed. All that you imagine different about him, Sakuya Kira, is nothing but a construct in your own mind. He played his part well enough, but now there is no need for that anymore."

Lucifer tighted his hand in Setsuna's hair and used that grip to force his head back, a finger running up his exposed neck and the next second it was not a finger but a blade, obsidian black.

"You're still attached. You give your heart away too easily and then you hang on too long. But then, that has always been your way."

He stepped back and with a sudden movement and another, the blade cut through Setsuna's clothing, somehow not actually breaking his skin, but leaving him naked and bare before cold eyes.

"Let's see what it takes."

It was like every word cut through to Setsuna's soul, a dagger to his heart, or as if Lucifer had struck him with every syllable. The blond's face crumbled at the thought, not wanting to believe, pain etched in his features, clear and obvious.

Lucifer was, also, very right. Cutting to the core of the current problem, the real thoughts Setsuna had. Even then, he didn't want to fully give up on Lucifer, it was easier to fight him. Easier to be outraged. Anything was easier than this.

He didn't even feel the coolness of air against his bare skin, anxiety in his expression, all of the pain in plain sight for Lucifer to see. And when Lucifer was no longer touching him, Setsuna's skin uncovered, Setsuna went slack in his binds. Oh, don't be fooled so easily. He's not given up on anything, not yet.

Lucifer wasn't fooled so easily. He knew the Messiah was far from broken, but he also thought that he could break him. What he hadn't yet decided is whether he wanted to break him.

It wouldn't just happen easily, no, so he had time to decide, he had time to play. Lucifer walked around Setsuna slowly and he reached out with his hand and his nails were sharp and left red streaks along his side, until he stood behind him. He walked away a few steps then, before turning.

His arm moved and as it did, a whip formed, black as the blade had been before. He brought his arm forward and the whip came down, a sharp crack that resounded in the empty darkness.

At the very least, he decided, he'd break his skin.

Not that Setsuna attempted to fool, he was merely hurting for the moment. It was one reason Setsuna never broke easily - he sobbed out his pain when it occurred rather than letting it build and fester.

When Lucifer raked his skin, Setsuna gave him a look of anger, teeth grit, eyes a little narrowed. That action had stung a bit, but had, overall, been a little too intimate. That expression changed quickly when he saw the whip form, however, eyes going wide.

The blow gained a silent scream from Setsuna, his mouth opening wide, soundless, before he gasped out, head lowering, eyes hidden from view. This asshole couldn't be serious? That kind of pain overloaded Setsuna's mind, preventing any stupid words (for now), and overwhelming any indignation from Lucifer's earlier action.

He didn't dare look up at Lucifer again, not wanting to watch that black whip raise or descend.

Only a gasp so far, but Lucifer wasn't so easily discouraged, not so easily stopped. He knew exactly how much damage he was doing, even without watching Setsuna's face as he struck him, even without hearing his screams.

The whip was raised and it descended again as well. An angry red streak soon formed on Setsuna's skin, crossing the one formed by the first blow. The third wasn't far off, and with a few more strikes of the whip,
there was a criss-cross of red marks on his body.

The lashes that landed on smooth skin caused Setsuna to stiffen and jolt, but the ones that crossed over previous welts made his eyes open wide, water, and even a couple brought out cries from the blond. His fists clenched, toes curled, and he struggled at his bonds. Of course, they held, burning his skin further.

Even though the marks on his skin had yet to bleed, the whip having not cut through, each blow started to severe Setsuna's belief Kira was still somewhere in there. There was no way.... Kira would never.... But.

Maybe Rosiel and Lucifer already broke Setsuna a long time ago, just none of them realized.

"Senpai...." came a soft, pleading whisper, as Setsuna finally looked up and made himself face Lucifer. If this had to continue, fine, but he was going to look right at him.

"You are pathetic, Messiah. Still clinging to all these illusions that make you weak."

Lucifer shook his head and, after another lash, walked closer once more, wrapping the whip around Setsuna's neck. With his hand on the handle he forced it to tighten, pulled him up and made sure to constrict his breathing. His eyes met Setsuna's, hard and cold.

"This 'Kira', even before I remembered, never cared for you. Stop lying to yourself."

Scratchy and worn, Setsuna asked, "Really?" in a disbelieving tone, before laughing, loud. Whip choking him or not, it was like Lucifer told him the funniest joke ever.

He had to lick his lips, his hands tight in their binds, but clearly straining to reach for the whip and pull it away from his neck. Setsuna couldn't say much more like that, but he wanted to. He wanted to throw it all in Lucifer's face.

He tried, but the words might have died out, and some of it might not have made it far.

"If so, he shouldn't have fucking died for me. I'd rather that, him not caring for me, and him alive."

Lucifer just smiled at whatever Setsuna did manage to croak out. It wasn't much, because he tugged on the whip harder and watched it tighten around his neck. No need to suffocate him, of course, but also no need not to come close.

Come close in other ways, too, as he leaned down as if for a kiss like before. But instead he bit down hard on Setsuna's lower lip, so hard that he broke skin, hard enough that he could taste blood. His own lips were bloody when he pulled away, releasing the snare of the whip as well, to let him breathe freely once more.

He didn't bother cleaning his stained lips.

"You've lost, Messiah."

The whip had been bad enough, but when Lucifer lowered himself so close, Setsuna tried to pull away, to no avail, of course. He merely whimpered at the bite, giving a look of disgust at the blood that followed. But for the burning on his lips, he barely felt it, his mind awash with far more other serious pains.

His breathing came out fast and deep once the whip was removed, though, then a confused expression appeared on his face, before Setsuna gave a rueful smirk.

"I know. I haven't much left but Sara, and I plan to finish this all off and go home with her," he muttered.

"Do you really?" His voice was cold, cutting, full of mockery and far from joy. "You'll come to learn, Setsuna, that you are a failure." He used his name on purpose and then he slapped him, very matter of fact, cupping his face with the same hand afterwards and ran his thumb over his lower lip, brushing away the blood.

"You are not going to finish anything off. You'll be broken, slowly, until there's nothing left of you. Then you'll be killed, be gone. As for your...Sara, if she is still alive, she won't be for much longer. You have failed the World, you have failed your friends and you've failed her, as well."

No matter what lacked in his voice, when Lucifer said his name, and didn't call him Messiah, the blond heard a mockery of Kira's tone. The slap made his memory snap harder, pain bubbling to the surface as he tried to repress it. "Senpai...." The idea of Kira calling him a failure, the thought that Kira would be disappointed in him, it hurt almost more than anything else. If Kira felt that way, Setsuna would rather he keep whipping him.

He barely felt Lucifer's hand on his face, his world going numb as his mind centered on what he was being told. He stared into those cold, gray eyes, then tightened his jaw.

"No. It's not over yet. I haven't lost yet! And I'm not going to give up until that point."

"I'd not expect you to give up easily. You'll hang on to your delusions."

Lucifer smiled, fingers digging into Setsuna's jaw. "But while you try to do that, also try to think of your friends. The ones you've already failed and the ones you're failing right now. Who knows, maybe they still pray to you. To you, Setsuna, not just the Messiah. And you're leaving them to suffer. How do you know they're still alive?"

He let go of Setsuna and turned his back to him, dark amusement in his voice. "Then again, perhaps death is preferable. Some of them are quite beautiful."

Setsuna hardened to Lucifer's words, anger rising, but it came out in a cold tone of voice.

"What are you talking about? You keep talking of delusions and I've failed, but nothing's actually happened yet. You have an aim in mind, or you did, and that's not gone anywhere," Setsuna insisted. He didn't care if he was bound hand and foot, or that he hurt a little - actually, he didn't feel any of that any longer - he would still defy Lucifer to the end. As long as he didn't think of Kira he was fine.

"And you won't lay a hand on them. Because either you're busy with me, or I'll fucking stop you!"

"I won't, you're right. I couldn't care less about them, after all."

Lucifer shrugged, still not looking at Setsuna. "But there's more to the world than you and me, Messiah. Granted, not to your world. Not any longer."

He turned around now, walked back to Setsuna. His lips still colored from the other's blood, he stopped in front of him and carded his fingers through his hair, almost gentle. "For you there's just getting used to your failure. You'll break here."

It didn't matter what words dropped from his cold tone, Setsuna faced Lucifer now. His face, his dark hair and those icy gray eyes, the one thing that made him so different from Kira in appearance. Even if Setsuna wanted to hang on to the reminder the others still existed in the world, somewhere beyond his reach here, Lucifer was right.

His existence in this moment was narrowed down to just them. That would almost be intimate and romantic, except it narrowed in out of pain. When anything hurt, rather physically or emotionally, his entire world centered in on this one space. No, maybe Lucifer was partially right. As long as he looked like Kira, then no, it came down to Lucifer, Setsuna and Kira. Setsuna grabbed onto that, the softness of Lucifer's fingers disturbing his hair making it even harder to forget Kira.

He used to ruffle it, touch, pat his head. There had been so much tactile comfort and affection between them, Kira gave Setsuna a longing for it. There was no way Setsuna could avoid the pleading that likely swelled up in his eyes. 'Please, mess it up like you used to, laugh and tell me I'm being an idiot,' he managed to bite his tongue on those words.

"There's no failure, not yet," was what Setsuna insisted out loud, refusing to back down on that.

But it had never been Lucifer that looked like Kira. The other way round, more like, but Lucifer could use the resemblance for his own twisted purposes.

The look in Setsuna's gave away just how easy it was for them. Lucifer remembered, so it was easy enough to know what he was begging for. Even easier to deny it and once more destroy the illusion with a smile that was too cold for anything Kira would ever have turned on Setsuna.

"Refusing to accept it doesn't make it any less true, but I suppose you can gain some strength from your stubborn delusion."

His fingers tightened in Setsuna's hair and he tugged on it sharply, wanted it to hurt as he forced his head back.

"It won't last."

His stomach tightened, chest hurt, the second he saw that cold look. His emotions swayed back and forth - Kira was gone, Kira was dead, no Kira was still somewhere in there, no he wasn't. Setsuna could barely breathe anymore, eyes tearing over again when, instead of gentle hands rubbing his hair, pain was pulled from his scalp, by hands so similar to the ones that used to pat him and hold him.

"It's not a delusion, not completely, not yet," Setsuna insisted, stubborn as ever. Maybe Kira was a delusion, but winning wasn't. Not when he hadn't a chance to prove otherwise.

[OOC: Please note for any smut here that Kaine is intersexual.]

(Feelings...AM never understood feelings. Sure, he was programmed with the knowledge, but never did he really understand them. As much as he tried to fight it, being in a human body has undoubtedly corrupted his thought process, corrupted it so much that he began to develop...feelings.

Well, SHODAN, you're just about the only person AM can truly relate to. He too is an insane AI; he made himself a god after obliterating mankind and tortured the survivors for over a century. And yet, he felt tortured by these feelings; for the first time, he felt something for another being that wasn't pure hatred. Would he admit it was love? Perhaps begrudgingly so. He knew he was already insane, but if he bottled in his emotions any longer...he can't handle thinking about it.

That's why he's here, standing by your bed, not so subtly trying to get your attention.)

SHODAN...we need to talk.

[Once Alois opens his eyes, he will find himself in a scarcely lit basement. There is enough light for him to recognize his kidnapper, and enough darkness to feel intimidated. And he has every reason to be.]

Don't move. It will save us plenty of time.

[And after all these long, hard years as a demon, Ciel has gotten tired of waiting.]

[ he doesn't move, of course, with accumulating petrifying darkness all about but mostly, because of the person speaking, looking at him, who he's looking back at (with wide eyes, knit brows, and utter perplexity). then, he does move. it's half of a cautious, doubtful step back. ]

What do you mean 'don't move'? What the fuck, Ciel? What's this shit about 'time'? Couldn't we at least go into the parlor?

I wouldn't have expected someone with such humble origins as yours to be picky about our location. Forgive my manners, Alois Trancy, but I am not an Earl anymore.

[And it's your fault, he wants to add, but he doesn't. He harbors mixed feelings for the soul in front of him. He is torn between wanting to devour it immediately, bring it back to the Nirvana he extracted it from, and torture it for days to come. The second option is the one he is less likely to pick. It took him a long time to find Alois, and he has no intention of letting him go anywhere.]

It's been fifteen years since I last saw you.

[His eyes are gleaming red now, his smirk widens. Time and experience taught him how to restrain both lust and rage, but Alois' soul is so intoxicating it breaks through all his carefully built defenses. Sebastian was right. He is more dangerous than any other creature.]

Does my aspect surprise you?

[ it's at this first statement that alois' eyes narrow on him, the insult doesn't slip by, but he suspects that isn't ciel's intention in the first place to let it. a puff of air slips free as he continues, and all alois wants to say is: 'so what?' in response to everything.

he does not care that ciel isn't an earl, how long it's been, how he looks, nothing. he wants to go back home. home to claude, to hannah, to luca, and fields of bluebells.

intimidating as the glittering red of ciel's eyes are, if he wanted alois to appear surprised, he doesn't. this is what he had contracted hannah for. of course, he's this now. ]

I thought demons had certain aesthetics they adhered to, Ciel. Are you so lowly you have to pick at meals that've already been taken? Isn't Sebastian teaching you how to take care of yourself?

[ It starts with a nightmare, like it usually does. However, this one is darker, less visible. Alois would find himself in the garden of the Trancy manor, among the rose bushes. These roses however, are all red. Ox blood red. Carmine. Not the gentle ruby red that glistens with dew in the morning sun. None of that. Almost as if these were once white roses dyed with blood.

It's nighttime in this rose garden and a mist has settled around him. The mist would grow deeper with each step he'd take. Almost to the point where he wouldn't be able to see a thing. Should he stumble about blindly, he would start to notice things around him.

Voices. Like those men Lord Trancy used to call over.
Voices. The other boys sick with the plague around him before he was called forth.
Smells. A fire. A deep roaring fire. Wood and grass and people burning.
Smells. Blood.
Sounds. Luka screaming.

And should he continue to stumble on through the fog in his mad, frantic dash for solace he will find himself suddenly running straight into a spider's web. The silk would first get in his eyes, further clouding his vision. Then it would get to his wrists and ankles, pulling him down to the ground spread eagled and vulnerable. Around him, the smells of fire, of blood, of roses would get stronger. So would the voices, the screaming...

And then it stops.

Though should he open his eyes, he will find he can't. Perhaps it's the spider silk woven around them, a makeshift sticky impenetrable blindfold. Should he attempt to move, he'll find himself bound as he was in his nightmares: spread eagled and exposed, secured by thick webbing around his ankles and wrists which would cut into his tender flesh should he struggle so. But unlike his nightmares, there are no sounds save for the crickets in the night air.

There are no smells save for a candle being lit and the distinct cologne a certain demon wears. ]

[ it's with perspiring chilled skin and a sharp gasp, the painful sucking in of air, that he awakes from such tormenting things. his heart palpitates relentlessly, and for a flicker of a second he's certain he can taste the smoke of fire on his tongue. the screams, too, seem as real as they had until they become mosquito buzzes and whines in the trunks of his skull.

claude's cologne hits his senses like a brick. alois lays half trying to get his breathing back to something normal.

initially, he finds himself too terrified to call out. what if it isn't claude? what if it's someone else who happens to use the same musk to scent themselves? but, it's still claude's, nevertheless. the aroma of claude faustus in which alois had familiarized himself with, it beckons forth images of diamond cheeks and pristine marble skin and irises made of gold.

so, then. timidly, ] Claude...?

Here, your highness.

[ Another candle being lit. Just enough light to barely make out shapes through the webbing binding his eyes should he attempt to try to make sense of the world again. He's by the bedside, however, slow steps right to the bedside near the table so he can set the candle holder down. Silently he adjusts his gloves, tugging them down just so for them to fit snugly on his fingers. For this little matter, precision will be needed.

His voice is quiet, the same private tone he takes when it's just the two of them. His eyes hold their quiet fire, glittering dangerously in the dim light as the last trace of lilac dies down from having called upon his dreamweaving. ]

Was it another nightmare?

Yes, [ almost promptly. here, he makes to move and finds his wrists snag back. or, rather, have a time moving forward to lift himself at all. his shoulders won't come up off the bed. for a tick, he tenses all over, stupefied by this reality. under the sticky silk of the webbing, round eyes dart to the silhouette he's certain, hopes, belongs to claude. ]

Claude, I can't— [ his voice is a well, flooding. ] I can't see you, I can't move. Claude! I can't see you!

[ Good. He can smell fear, he can smell tension, he can smell the near keening desperation in the boy's words. It practically oozes off his flesh like the aroma of a newly completed dish. No, he has to remind himself. Not yet. Soon. But not now.

However, he can't help but flick his tongue out in anticipation. Wetting his lips to quell the momentary hunger.

Soon, Alois would feel the cold bite of a blade under his chin. Just a small cut, enough to draw the tiniest measure of blood and call his attention. ]

You need no eyes to see anyone else, your highness. I am all you need.

[ And leaning in close to whisper into his ear. ]

Yours, your highness. As you belong to me, as your soul belongs to me.

[ webbing, that particular sort, the kind that could only ever belong or come from claude, digs into alois' soft white flesh. he can't move, he can't see claude, he can't bring his knees together—it's just like the still-fresh nightmare and he's panicking. the chance of alois keeping still hadn't been high to begin with; he tugs, fights, and ignores sliver rivulets of blood streaming down to his elbows.

all he wants, all he cares about in this moment, is being able to sit up, move his arms, his legs, full blown light. ] Claude, Claude, [ he murmurs, nearly under breath, pleading him.

until blade is cutting under his chin, and he freezes stalk still once more. he cranes his neck back in the attempt to draw away from it, and his knees tremble. claude whispering into his ear makes him want to strain less. tears manage down his cheeks, even with the webbing secured around his eyes. he doesn't say anything, he's at a loss. he can't make sense, try as he might, out of why claude would purposely keep him bound, or not give him full candlelight or sunlight, and allow him to ruin his wrists they way he is. ]

You must understand, master. I didn't wish to harm you in any way but I find I have no choice.

[ It is, after all, in the nature of spiders to bind their prey tight and hide them away from the world. They covet them, trap them, hold them to their chest and prevent any means of escape best they can before suffocating them and draining the very life from their small fragile bodies. This, you could say, was the prelude before the consumption. It was too early, far too early. The boy hadn't acquired his full ripeness. He still needed him hale and healthy.

He needed him compliant and obedient.

The faintest scent of blood taints the air and inflames his senses as he drags that blade slower down the boy's throat. It's only enough to break the skin, light enough to cause him to bleed and draw out the barest stinging pain but not enough to make him scream out. Not enough to kill. No, that was far too early.

Almost as if to counter that pain, Alois would find the warm feel of the demon's tongue lightly licking up the cut that ran from his collarbone to the initial cut by his throat. ]

You musn't allow yourself to be tainted so.

[ is it the situation that make claude's voice sound a million times crisper, like sharp, white, hot and cold slates of ice gliding against the inner top of his skull? claude isn't an easy thing to ignore, not even in the most safe and comfortable of situations. if alois had ever turned cheek, it was all in act, in hopeful aches that claude would pay attention. the biting silk, the tip of blade slitting his neck, claude seeming rather settled on not releasing him in the next minute—it makes the demon's voice harder, clearer, more pressing than alois can recall it ever being. or, is it momentary heightened sense? ears making up for what eyes lack.

he tremors and breathes in when blade carries downward, the tiniest line of blood eagerly following in its wake. he's all tension and coiling and fluttering, erratic heartbeats. then, the slick, warmth of tongue, and when he exhales its on a choked sob, his stomach tightening.

'You're only hungry,' has been rampant and wildly running about across his thoughts, as though in means to comfort himself, or mentally ask claude, if such a thing were possible. his lips quaver, and he very nearly says it aloud, chants it. but, what claude says confuses him. his face hangs slightly floor bound, lips parted, shaky inhalations and exhalations coming and going.

what does he mean tainted? suddenly, he wants the hottest bath. a bath that will singe him and turn him pink and make him clean again. ]

I don't— I didn't—

... I don't know how to be anything else, [ this is said on a sputter of emotion, apologetic and self-disgusted. why isn't claude calling him 'immaculate' anymore? and, there is a guilt that rushes him for even wanting it. ]

Edited 2012-03-25 16:43 (UTC)

[The war is over and Celestial Being has been defeated. The Meisters and crew are held prisoner and subjected to the whims of the Innovators. Hiling claimed Lockon as hers and had him injected with nanomachines so that she would be able to control him. She sits with her legs folded neatly beneath her on the couch as she waits for him to be brought in and uncuffed.]

Well hello, Lockon Stratos.

[Lockon has lost track of exactly how long he was kept in that cell. Days, certainly, possibly a week. When the guards came to fetch him they mentioned something about how he was ready for his 'new master' by the name of Hiling Care. It hardly sounded promising. Then again, little sounded promising ever since the day they were beaten.

He stands stock still in the position he's been directed to, one baleful eye locked on Hiling. The twee little thing doesn't look like much of a threat, but he has seen the ruthless way the Innovators fight, so he doubts things are so simple. Still, once they are left to their own devices, he can't help grinding out a defiant retort.]

Give me one good reason why I shouldn't throttle you on the spot.

[Forgive him, Hiling, he's not exactly feeling up to pleasantries just now.]

Edited (misspelled names) 2012-03-28 15:13 (UTC)

[She smiles, more amused at the threat than anything else. He can't so much as raise a hand against her, of that much she is confident. The process was not quite complete when she decided to have him brought out, but she was too impatient to wait and insisted. In order to make up for that, she added a little something extra to his injection today that would make her harder to resist. She can't wait to see how well it works. He would find that he could only get so close to her before being forced to his knees.]

We can't have that.

[The only reason he hasn't taken any action against her yet is because he knows there has to be some sort of security measure in place: a sidearm hidden in the couch cushions, or a hidden guard ready to keep him in check. Lockon doesn't realize that the security measure is within him. No one had bothered to tell him what he had been shot up with, although he knows it couldn't be anything good.

However, the moment she says 'we can't have that' something in his brain pings. While the desire to wring her little neck may still be there, it's as if any ability to actually take the initiative to do so has been sealed up and locked away. Lockon shakes his head in confusion at the odd sensation before directing a decidedly more wary look her way.]

That's not much of a reason.

[And yet he truly, honestly can't struggle against it. This becomes all too apparent when his effort to stalk towards her is dialed down to a slow, measured walk. The point is driven home entirely when he is a meter away from her person and his knees buckle beneath him. Lockon can't tell if it's his body that's betraying him or if it's the work of that dizzy, lightheaded feeling washing over him.]

What are you waiting for?

[She wants to emphasize the futility of the situation. That, and watch him struggle. He's so close and yet there's nothing he can do. It makes her feel powerful to be in control of him like this. Sooner or later he'll figure out what's going on, but for now she'll keep him guessing. The fact that he wants to kill her only makes him more fun. It wouldn't be nearly as exciting if he was already completely broken.]

[The only answer she gets for the first few moments is laboured breathing. Lockon's head is absolutely swimming as the nanomachines set about the task of rewiring the synapses in his Motor Cortex. It takes a bit to get his bearings through the disorientation, but once he does he places his hands on his thighs, forcing himself up into an upright sitting position.

His next revelation is that he can't do much more than that. He can move his hand to the side, but gets no more than a twitch forward if he tries to reach for Hiling. Attempts to stand get no response whatsoever.

Lifting his chin, Lockon glowers up at Hiling and his jaw flexes with the force of how hard his teeth are grinding together.]

What did you do?

Edited 2012-03-28 21:59 (UTC)

It's a neat trick, isn't it? I can make you do whatever I want.

[And she'll do just that. To demonstrate, she turns his own hand on him, bringing it up to his throat to choke him. Pushing deeper into his mind, it doesn't take much effort on her part. She eyes him like a cat toying with her prey. He's just another plaything to her. They didn't last long once she got a hold of them, depending on her mood.]

[The bravado slips away for a moment and his visible eye goes wide with horror. It's hard to say what's worse, the knowledge that he is completely at Hiling's mercy, or the inexorable way his fingers are digging into his neck, cutting off his oxygen. The irony of his own threat being used against him doesn't escape him--it's probably the icing on the cake for her.

If she has delved far enough in his mind, Hiling may feel the mental scramble to think of some kind of bargaining chip or logic that might get her to stay her (or rather, his) hand.]

Is this all you plan [He gags and has to gasp for air as before continuing.] t'do with it? Seems like a waste of a good trick.

[As soon as he says it, he regrets it. There are far worse things a person can be made to do than strangle himself to death, even if it's a short list.]

[She laughs at his reaction and at the idea that she would simply kill him. He wasn't any fun to her dead. Some of the others had been lucky and met their end quickly, but not him. Before he passes out, she releases him. She can sense what he's thinking and shakes her head. It won't do him much good.]

You're absolutely right, it would be a waste.

[Her eyes glow as she leans forward, speaking directly into his mind.] :: I have so much more planned for you. ::

[When his already limited vision starts going dark at the edges he's nearly convinced she'll go through with it, and he's not entirely sure that's a bad thing, given the circumstances.

Then his fingers go suddenly lax and his hand drops into his lap as he sucks in great gulps of air. Lockon almost doesn't register her words because of it, but there's no missing the voice that is now invading his thoughts. Once more his gaze snaps up to meet hers, looking for signs she's the source of the voice and he isn't simply going out of his mind. Sure enough, she has that tell-tale glow that he's occasionally caught Tieria sporting.]

...I'm sure you do.

[His voice comes out in a hoarse croak that ruins the caustic sentiment, but it's better than talking to her via his thoughts. It's deeply, deeply disturbing that she's wormed her way in there and he doesn't want to encourage her poking around in there by continuing the conversation in his head.]

Edited 2012-03-29 03:13 (UTC)

[It makes no difference to Hiling whether they talk out loud or not. She just wanted to show that she could. He should be grateful she hasn't decided to take away his ability to speak altogether. At least not yet. With this much access to his mind, she knows exactly how to get to him. Reaching out, she beckons him, not giving him a chance to go on his own. He will whether he wants to or not.]

Come closer.

[Lockon is disinclined to feel grateful to Hiling for a single goddamned thing right now, though he does intend make full use of what little autonomy is still left to him. At the moment this is manifesting in the way his eyes narrow and harden--this promises to be a drawn out and unpleasant experience, so he's best served steeling himself however he can.

When her order is issued, Lockon begins to scoot forward on his knees (after all, she didn't say he could walk when approaching, and his body acknowledges it). He doesn't stop until he's a hair's breadth away from where she sits.]

Now what?

[Once he's close enough, she shifts onto her knees and reaches out to curl her fingers around a lock of his hair. He certainly isn't bad to look at. She's getting ideas. He can glare all he wants, she's just going to ignore it.]

You're probably wondering what's become of your comrades, aren't you.

[If it's possible for a heart to leap and sink at the same time, then that is what just happened to Lockon. He hasn't seen the crew since they were marched out and divided up between the Innovators and he would desperately love to know if the others were okay.

The last person he wants to know about the depth of his concern for his comrades is Hiling, as he is absolutely sure she'll find some way to twist it. Lockon takes particular care to school his expression into something neutral before responding.]

I'm curious.

[Now she knows she has something he wants. To tell him would just satisfy his curiosity. Hiling is well aware that it's worse when one doesn't know. But she still wants him to think that she might tell him. She really doesn't understand his concern, having never experienced it for herself, but she knows how to take advantage of it.]

Why should I tell you?

[Not knowing their fates is incredibly frustrating, it's true. What would be worse than that is if she brought one of them in and did something to them just because he showed too much interest. He has to clamp down on his imagination to keep it from running wild with the awful possibilities there.

Still... maybe he can play his cards right and coax out a little info. His expression turns rueful and, while he isn't quite smiling, it isn't the glare he's maintained all this time.]

Why shouldn't you? You've got me dead to rights. I can't do anything unless you say, so it's not as if I'd be able to use the info against you. [She enjoys lording things over him, doesn't she? Maybe a little acknowledgement of her power here can get him places.]

Hmm...

[She does like it when he puts it that way. Her head tilts in interest. He's got her attention. She takes another peek at his thoughts, wondering what must be going on in there. Perhaps she'd give him a little bit. That could still be fun.]

I'll tell you about one.

[Lockon may not be privy to her thoughts like she is to his, but he doesn't miss the fact that her interest seems piqued. He'll have to remember that she likes her ego stroked.

When she budges just a little he lets out a measured breath--a sign of relief, though he tries to keep that from being too apparent.]

I'm all ears.

Oh, but which one? They're all the same to me.

[She could just read his thoughts and find out which one would be best, but she would rather have him say. It's fun making him choose among his friends. Knowing who he cared about most could be useful.]

[She was giving him a choice about it? Colour him surprised.

Though it's hardly an easy decision. In the end, it comes down to the two individuals he figures are getting the worst end of the deal: Tieria and Setsuna. The leader of the group seemed to show a creepy amount of interest in Setsuna, while Tieria couldn't have had an easy time adjusting to the idea of being one of the Innovators. Though that might afford him some amount of leeway. So that settles it; he's asking about the kid.]

Tell me about Setsuna.

Not Tieria Erde? I wonder how he'll react when I tell him.

[Settling back into the couch, she smirks at that. Lockon isn't the only one she's messing with here. True to her word, she will let him know how Setsuna is doing. He's one of the more interesting ones to her anyway. Her gaze shifts and a holographic monitor flickers to life, showing a news report of a Gundam going on a rampage in a major city and then being defeated by the A-Laws. She points at the screen.]

Look! There I am!

Tieria didn't have your... 'brother' eying him.

[Lockon's not sure why he's bothering to get into the justifications. Hiling could just as easily tell Tieria whatever she likes and twist it any way she likes, and she probably will.

When the news feed starts to play, his visible eye goes wide. This isn't a recap of their previous battles, so that means...]

You're forcing him to fight for your own damned publicity?

[It was definitely worth it to show him. She smiles, pleased with herself. She could have made up something worse, but proof like this is more difficult to disbelieve.]

That's not all. He fights for us now.

[If he had the use of his hands, you can bet they'd be balled up into white-knuckled fists by now. For now, he'll have to settle for letting his lip curl up into a snarl.]

So you can't fight your own battles, is that it? You have to puppet him to make you look good and do your dirty work for you. Some guides of humanity you are.

[It's not a good idea to insult her. She's already shown that she can control him. It would be fun for her, like playing with a doll.]

I think it's a fitting punishment. Perhaps you'd like to join him.

[He knew it was a bad idea to berate her, but it's all so damned infuriating that it's nearly impossible to keep from boiling over.

However, her threat grounds him and reminds him that the misery can be heaped even higher. Lockon doesn't want to cause grief to some innocent city-dwellers, even if he wouldn't exactly be directly responsible. So he reigns in his temper and puts a cap on it, though it's still evident in the wire taut tension of his tone.]

Not particularly.

[Though, if he wants her to abandon the idea, he should probably divert her with something more 'interesting'. He has no idea what that would be, but maybe a leading question can get her to fill in the blank.] So, what else do you have in store for me?

[She might make him do it anyway if she thinks of it later. One thing that may indeed work in his favor is that she is easily distracted. She reaches out, fingers tracing the edges of his eyepatch.]

No, you won't be fighting in the Gundam. I'd hate for anything else to happen to that handsome face.

[He can't pull away from the touch, but the way the skin around his eye tightens while his mouth flattens into a thin line tells of a suppressed flinch. Lockon is none too pleased with implications here, but... he wanted her distracted, didn't he? It's better than the alternative, so he may as well run with what he's got.

Not that he actually has a choice. Forcing the same rueful look he wore when bargaining with her before, he says,]

So that's how it is, then?

[She's distracted for now. She notices the subtle change in expression. Her hands move down his chest, enjoying the feel of his muscular physique. It's not what she's used to, so she's curious.]

I want to play.

[His jaw tightens slightly when she starts to get more handsy. Otherwise, his only movement is the steady rise and fall of his chest under her finger tips.]

I'm gonna assume you don't mean a rousing game of Yahtzee.

[He's fallen back on jokes to keep from saying some of the more belligerent things running through his head, though the tone is pretty mirthless.]

[Her hands travel further downward, reaching the edge of his shirt and slipping beneath to feel his skin. They seem to wander, exploring new ground. Drawing close, she whispers into his ear. Just a reminder that she hasn't stopped reading his thoughts.]

I can hear you.

[His breath hitches slightly as her hands start to skate against his bare skin. To his credit, that's the only reaction he gives until she breathes her little reminder right in his ear. That earns a sharp intake of breath and a quickening heartbeat, all of which should mingle quite nicely with that little undercurrent of fear that she's probably picking up in his thoughts. There's no way he can censor his own head, so there's no way of controlling when he might cross some line that sets her off.

Still, if there's nothing he can do about it, he may as well proceed as he has been and try to downplay things.]

Kind of hard not to when you're this close, isn't it?

[She lets her lips brush against his ear and gives it a tug with her teeth. Leaving marks on his neck, she can feel his pulse quicken and glances up with a smirk. His fear only encourages her. She pulls one hand away to grab something from between the cushions. He was right about there being a weapon there, but instead of a gun, it's a knife. With her fingers laced through his hair, she holds him still as she brings the point of the knife to his throat, just barely touching.]

Not nearly close enough.

[His eyelids slip closed, not out of pleasure, but out of a desire to detach himself. Lie back and think of Ireland, as it were. That doesn't last long, because once he feels the tug at his hair and the blade brushing against his throat his eye is wide open.

And he has to laugh.

This isn't like earlier when she had him strangle himself. That initial, panicky fear for his life is gone since he knows all too well she can do worse. This threat is almost a relief, since it might, just might mean he could no longer be used as a tool against the people he cares about or the world he tried to change. It would also beat the hell out of a lifetime of walking on eggshells and pampering the ego of someone he had grown to loathe so completely in such a short amount of time.]

So you plan to split me open to get even closer? Go ahead.

[The way his adam's apple moves when he speaks causes the blade to dig in a little deeper, driving his point home.]

Edited 2012-03-31 06:48 (UTC)

[She isn't surprised he finds it a relief. In fact she had been counting on it. She's learned well and will let him have his moment where he thinks he's got what he wanted. Tightening her grip on the knife, she slashes him down the front, tearing his shirt, but only leaving a shallow cut to his flesh. She happens to like the thought of having her own human to do whatever she wants. He wouldn't be getting his wish any time soon.]

[Lockon braces for impact as best he can when most of his muscles won't tense on command, then blinks when it becomes apparent he shouldn't have bothered. The razor-thin, almost negligible line of pain down his chest is almost a mockery of the outcome he'd all but hoped for.

This time when he laughs it's a wry, weary sound.]

Guess that would have been too easy, huh?

[Looking down at him, she lets out a giggle. It was amusing to her to dangle the promise of death in front of him, only to snatch it away. She can sense his disappointment. With one finger, she traces the line all the way down.]

You're catching on.

[The cut is a little harder to ignore when Hiling puts pressure on it like that, and he lets out a small hiss. Though the way she's gloating over her little bait and switch arguably stings more.]

'Spose I am.

[He raises a brow as if to say 'so, what now?']

[If that's the case, then she'll have to step up her game to keep things interesting. She takes a moment to look at the blood on her hand and then back to him. Dragging her tongue over her finger, she wants him to know how much this is turning her on. Blood smears on his cheek as she pulls him in for a kiss.]

[Not being able to crane his neck and look down, Lockon has no clue how deep the wound is, and it's a surprise to see how much blood Hiling has come away with.

Even more striking is the fact that she's more than willing to give it right back. His blood is heavy on her tongue, and he lets out a muffled sound of protest as the coppery taste invades his mouth.

Beyond that, he's somewhat torn on what to do. Struggling isn't much of an option. Should he respond to keep her interested? Or go with his first impulse and just concentrate on breathing until she's done? For now, he decides to wait and see what else she does, intending to take his cues from there.]

[It's not enough for her. She loosens her control on him enough that he can reciprocate and she expects him to do so. Still holding the knife, her arm wraps around him. She doesn't seem concerned about getting blood on her uniform. As long as it doesn't get on the couch.]

[Suddenly, he can move his neck, lean forward slightly, flex his hands and move his arms... to a degree. His legs are still locked in place. Any exhilaration he may have felt at gaining some small amount of freedom is quickly snuffed when he realizes this is the answer to what he's supposed to do.

As she presses closer he exhales shakily against her mouth and gathers his resolve. He'll do it.

But it's not going to be gentle--she's blasted through all of his usual good nature. When he kisses back it's hard, forceful with just a little bit of teeth. It's the closest thing he can get to a fight, but between his own caution and the mental blocks she still has placed on him, the attempt at aggression rings hollow. At best, maybe it will provide the challenge she's looking for.]

[She waits for the realization to sink in and continues with increased enthusiasm to match his aggression. It wouldn't be as much fun if she was just controlling his every move. She only needs enough to make him stay put. Her eyes glow as she invades his mind once again.]

:: This must have been what you wanted with the way you were coming on to me. ::

[The moment he hears her voice resonate in his head, he freezes. That will never not throw him, and it gets under her skin that she has the gall to suggest this is his idea. Lockon pulls back just enough so that his reply is intelligible, though still close enough that his lips brush against her when he speaks.]

You know better than that.

[His tone is a low growl, but it's just like everything else about him in this scenario: reduced to all bark but no bite.

...Well, maybe some bite since Hiling gets a pointed tug on her bottom lip before he dutifully resumes the task at hand.]

[The tug at her lip elicits a noise from her throat. She moves off the couch and into his lap. Reading his thoughts, she can tell he doesn't like her talking to him that way, but she does anyway. She wants to antagonize him as much as she can.]

:: I bet you're popular with the ladies. The girl, Feldt Grace mentioned you. ::

[Up until now, Lockon deliberately avoided having to touch Hiling with his hands since regaining their use. This changes when she pours herself onto his lap and he has to hold the sides of her legs to balance himself and keep from pitching backward.

The comment about being popular with the ladies gets a shrug. The implications of the other matter she brings up are more worrying, so he pulls back to speak once more. If she can be stubborn on this point then so can he.]

Feldt's a very nice girl. I hope she finds someone her age one day.

[He likes the fact that Hilling is bringing up crew members even less than he likes her speaking in his mind. To distract her from getting any ideas about toying with Feldt or anyone else, he reaches up to pull the collar of her shirt down enough to start kissing her throat.]

[She makes herself comfortable against him. Just as she was getting into it, she feels him pull away. Her eyes narrow, letting him know she doesn't like that. She'll get him to cooperate yet.]

Give me one reason I shouldn't break her ribs one by one just to hear her scream.

[Oh, but she likes what he's doing there. Her head tilts up to give him better access. If he gives her more, it might just be enough to make her change her mind.]

[And just like that, his stubbornness on the communication issue evaporates in light of a threat that breaks his heart and makes his stomach lurch.

At least Hiling seems to be responding to what he's doing. He doesn't dare stop, so he bites the bullet and thinks his answer at her.]

:: Because if you do that, I guarantee my... performance will suffer.::

[The hand that had been holding the fabric aside drifts down to unfasten the catch to her collar, causing it to fall open and give him more room to work with. He gives one long, lingering suckle to the juncture between her neck and shoulder before adding.]

:: But if you leave her alone, I'm more likely to get creative. ::

Edited (html fail) 2012-04-01 06:17 (UTC)

[She has to admit she likes the sound of that. Her objective here is to have fun rather than to simply torture him, even if it seems that way at times. If that means letting him have that relief in exchange for what she wants, it doesn't matter to her. It pleases her that he's being more cooperative now. She knew he would. She sighs with pleasure even as she speaks to him.]

:: You'd better make it good, then. ::

[Warm breath ghosts over her neck as Lockon lets out a sigh of his own, though his is undoubtedly a sign of relief rather than pleasure. He doesn't answer her back, but the thought at the forefront of his mind reads to the tune of 'here goes nothing'.

Working his way down, Lockon starts to leave light nibbles along the line of her collarbone. His hands drift down, slowly running up the outsides of her thighs, finger tips kneading through the light fabric of her uniform as he goes.

[Whatever it is he's doing has got her quite content. She likes the attention and hums in encouragement for him to continue. Moving her hips, she rubs against him. She hasn't confirmed or denied what she's going to do yet, deciding to wait and see how much he pleases her.]

:: Is that the best you can do? ::

[There's a soft grunt when the friction of her hips starts to elicit some interesting reactions. Apparently certain body parts didn't get the memo that he doesn't actually want any part of this.

But he's not about to try and stop her, especially since he fears that last mental query means she'll be getting impatient, soon.]

:: Just getting warmed up. ::

[Tentatively, he tries lifting his hips to see if he's now capable of grinding back against her, and sure enough, he is. One hand dips down to squeeze her ass, while the other pushes the hem of her shirt up. That last action turns out to be surprisingly painful, since the blood on his chest has dried to her blouse, causing it to have to be pulled off of the now reopened wound.]

[She drops the knife in favor of groping at his back. Sensing his reaction, she grinds down harder. It makes her smile that he's in pain. That ought to serve as a reminder of what she could do if she gets bored. Fortunately for him, it's enough to hold her interest. Her back arches as she feels him brush against her skin.]

[He winces at the pain, the press of her hips, and the fact that he is feeling pretty hypersensitive all around right now. Still, he wouldn't be worth a damn as a sniper if he couldn't make himself focus. Once she drops the knife he makes the move to pull her her shirt off completely.

...And he's suddenly glad the Innovators made a point of touting their agelessness, because if he didn't know any better, he'd think she was way too young to do anything like this. It's still hard not to feel like a dirty old man, but the words 'break her ribs just to hear her scream' ring through his memory, and he knows he can't afford to hesitate.

He starts to press hot, open-mouthed kisses down Hiling's sternum, letting his hands wander along her sides and back.]

[Lifting her arms, she lets him pull her shirt off. She wants as much contact as possible. Her skin is naturally sensitive, but now even more so as well. She breathes out slowly, her cheeks warming as he kisses her chest. There are no complaints here. She reaches down to unzip her pants.]

[He swallows hard when he hears that zipper. Looks like the moment of truth may be coming sooner rather than later.

While his mouth is still trailing along her chest, Lockon hooks his fingers into the top of Hiling's pants, tugging them down as far as they'll go given their current position. That likely won't be far enough for what she has in mind.]

:: Mind if I lift you onto the couch? It'd make getting rid of these things easier. ::

[He slides one long finger down between her legs--something to hold her interest while he waits for an answer.]

[While Hiling certainly has the ability to last a long time, she lacks the patience. She wants it now. Glancing down, she shivers at his touch before looking back up at him. She doesn't mind being picked up by him if it means she gets what she wants that much sooner. Her arms wrap around his neck, holding on tight.]

:: Be quick about it. ::

[She doesn't have to tell him twice. Slipping his hands beneath her thighs, he rises on his knees and lifts her up; she's so light that it hardly takes any time at all to get her situated.

Actually, that slightness of build might present a few problems if they move too quickly. While he has no problem killing her quickly, or even starting a fight, hurting her in the midst of sex would make him feel like a creep. Even if she probably deserves it.

Once the pants are discarded he runs the tips of his fingers over her slit, then inserts two fingers into her, thrusting and curling, keeping an eye on her reactions to see what her threshold is.]

[Even though she's completely naked in front of someone she just met, she isn't shy at all. Shame and decency are foreign concepts to her. She catches on to that reservation of his and makes note of it if she needs to keep him in line. Soon enough, she finds it hard to think when he's touching her like that. She gasps as his fingers enter her and seems to want more from the noises she's making.]

[And after all this is done, he'll have enough shame for the both of them. Unfortunately, it's not a luxury he can afford at the moment.

When she starts to give signals of wanting more, he adds another finger. Once he's got a nice, steady rhythm going with that, he rubs his thumb over her clit. Maybe, if he plays his cards right, he can get her to come like this.]

[It's tight, but she's easily wet enough to accommodate that much. She really gets off on those mind games she likes to play. Propping her leg up against the back of the couch, she closes her eyes and groans at the attention. She grabs at the cushions to brace herself. Her thoughts still are a little more collected than before. As much as she likes it, she's still going to taunt him.]

:: Maybe I should get Revive in here to show you how it's done. ::

[He rolls his eyes. If he wanted to be here he might feel insulted, but that little bit of trash talk is a drop in the bucket compared to everything else. Nevermind that what she's saying and how she's reacting seem to be two different things.

Still, he knows that escalation is the key keeping her happy. He shifts so that he can so run his mouth along the inside of one thigh, lightly biting here and there. Then he dips his head down to seal his lips around her clitoris while he continues working her with his fingers.

Idly, he wonders if she has any protection, or if they'll even get to a point where it's needed.]

[She goes quiet, save for the panting. It's hard to make comments when she's so lost in bliss. Her hold over him slips the nearer she gets to climax, which is coming closer sooner than she expected. It doesn't seem right that a human should be able to make her lose control like that. Focus was never her strength. She's more concerned with other things right now, like digging through the cushions for a condom.]

[He nearly has the full use of his body now and it's tempting, oh so tempting to try and put her out of his misery. But he's sure the moment he stops is the moment she'll clamp down on his mind again, or even send out a call for help.

Instead, he slides one knee onto the couch and hefts himself up to get a better angle. He may have faltered once or twice in the transition, but he never stops, making sure his tongue is doing the creative things he promised her earlier.

In his periphery he sees Hilling digging around in the couch, and he hopes to God she isn't looking foranother knife.]

::Looking for something?::

[From listening to his thoughts, she realizes that she should be paying better attention. She'll leave it that way for now, but she would indeed restrict him if he tried anything. But still, she needs some sort of control over him just to remind him that she is his master. She holds his head down until she finally produces what she's been looking for.]

:: You'll be needing this. ::

[A small sound of protest reverberates in the back of his throat, something she may feel more than hear. It doesn't exactly make his job easier to have the movement of his head restricted, but it doesn't last long, and soon he's looking up to stare at the condom.

All the way, then. He'd kind of hoped to be able to avoid that, just to have one last boundary she hasn't crossed.

But there's no getting around it. It's not a good idea to make her wait, either, so he draws his fingers out to make quicker work of unzipping his pants and donning the condom. Then he shifts into a proper kneeling position, arranging her legs around his hips.

Closing his eyes, Lockon takes a long, deep breath to steel himself, then presses forward.]

Edited 2012-04-02 12:11 (UTC)

[She's not satisfied until she's pushed past every boundary. His body and mind are no longer his own. It's different than when she's with one of her own kind. She doesn't think of him as an equal, but as a plaything. It's disappointing when he pulls out of her. She feels so empty, but she doesn't have time to pout before she's filled again. Her legs squeeze around him as she adjusts and then she allows him to move.]

[All at once his breath leaves him. He may know what he's doing, but it's been a while, and she's awfully tight. For a moment he just hangs his head, panting, and then he feels her legs squeeze around him. Something in his mind sparks, telling him to move, stupid, move, and he can't be sure whether it's her, his sense of self preservation or something equally primal.

It doesn't particularly matter because he obeys, rocking his hips slowly at first and then picking up speed.]

[She doesn't understand why a superior being like herself would have such base urges, but she doesn't question it. All she cares about is what feels good. She might as well make the most out of the body she was given. With each thrust, her moans grow louder. She reaches down to play with her clit and it's almost enough to bring her over the edge.]

[It takes a bit for something resembling coherent thought to break through the haze, but once it does he remembers why he's here, remembers that he has to keep the pace steady. Because heaven help him if she doesn't climax first.

That's when he notices what her fingers are doing. He's not about to get in the way of that, but there are ways to assist. His right hand releases the vice-like hold on her hip and he uses it to steady himself as he leans forward. If he gets the angle right, the thrusts should rub against the underside of her clit.

The sound of deep, shuddering groans have started to harmonize with Hilling's moaning, and it's only in a distant, academic sense that Lockon realizes they're coming from him.]

[Her hips begin to jerk, signaling it would be over soon. The change in angle made all the difference and she can't stop herself from coming if she wanted to. She welcomes her climax, curling in on him as she rides it out. Her nails dig into his shoulders, clawing at his back. She forgets he's even there for a moment.]

[The way she clenches around him, both inside and out, takes him off guard. His own movements come faster and more erratic, pounding through her climax. Possibly some of the aftershocks; he can't really tell. What he does know is that his own release is coming now, and he buries his face in the crook of her neck to muffle a shaky moan.

He's dimly aware of the fact that he shouldn't fall on top of her. Somehow, he manages to slump over on the side of the couch closest to the floor.]

[Hiling lets herself fall back onto the couch, sighing contently. Idly, she considers going again for another round. She easily could, but at the moment she doesn't feel like it. Right now, she just wants to stretch out her legs, so Lockon is going to have to go. With a grunt, she shoves him with her foot.]

Not bad for a human. I think I'll keep you around.

[The kick prompts an annoyed sound in the back of his throat, but no actual argument. Lockon pulls out, ties off the condom, and slides into a sitting position on the floor.]

Terrific.

[He feels dirty and used on about every conceivable level. Glancing at the condom in his hand, he idly thinks there's probably some kind of metaphor to be made there, but he doesn't really care to make it. Instead, he rubs at the drying blood and sweat on his chest, which is starting to itch.]

Is there any chance I can get cleaned up?

Fine, I'll want you clean if I decide to see you again anyway.

[She doesn't care what he does right now. She just wants him to leave. Right on cue, a guard appears to escort him out. She'll be wanting to clean up too. It wouldn't do for her to go around with the scent of human on her.]

[He didn't expect to be released so soon. When the guard shows up his relief is immense, even if it is embarrassing to be caught with his pants around his thighs.

As quickly as he's able, Lockon zips up and shuffles over to the guard. As the door closes behind them, he muses that he's never been more eager to get on with the walk of shame.]

Brutality KO is worth asking if you want me to reroll.

Also want a second thread - Ivy in charge?

I'm a horrible person and would definitely be up for it, if you are. Otherwise feel free to roll again/pick one that interests you more! :)

Also a second thread would be awesome, as long as you don't mind a bit of slow on my end. (...and I already rolled and got a 7. Ivy is pleased.)

"Ivy." Bruce's foot lashed out and kicked her hard in the stomach, doubling her over and knocking the wind out of her. "I thought we had an arrangement." He was simply pacing as she tried to recover her breath. "No killing and no maiming and I let your environmental protests go ahead." She'd not seen him truly angry with her before, and he was waiting until she started to either rise or command her plants before kicking her down again. The orange grenade in his left hand had various toxin markers on it and intended to look like what it was - a very strong weedkiller. The threat to her plants was implicit.

"Oh Batman--" Ivy placed her hands flat on the moss ground, her voice shaky, erratic as she tried to recover from the blows. "You really thought I'd simply let those trespassers go unharmed? My plants come before everything...you know that."

Even as she spoke, Ivy was attempting to gather time, to try and find a way to deal with this quickly--easily. If she could get the grenade out of his hand, this would be all over; and it wasn't as if he'd kill her, no.

He had too many scruples for that.

Looking up, she frowns, looking well and truly hurt. "You never compromise in your rules for yourself, do you? So why should I?" And with that, vines shot out for his legs and left hand, making to grab the object.

To Ivy's probable surprise, Bruce just handed the vines the grenade - which promptly exploded, covering the vine in weedkiller. And the vines that grabbed for Bruce's legs also found that this batsuit was more than slightly toxic for them. "Ivy." Another kick to her diaphragm. "I thought you knew. This garden exists because I let it." With that he grabbed her by the hair, forcing her to look him in the eye. "I have bulldozers. And crop sprayers I can load with weedkiller."

There was one rule for dealing with Ivy. Under no circumstance let her kiss you when she's wearing that lipstick. It was even worse than the poisonous one. Locked in his mind Bruce fumed.

((Your choice of which identity.))

Ivy smiled from where she was sitting, just regarding Batman, green eyes glimmering. Such a rare prize, one she rarely captured. But the hardest won is always the one that provided the most pleasure.

"You know...I can't decide if I really want to know your true identity yet." Pushing herself off her bed of ivy, she padded forward, circling the masked man, fingers trailing along his chest.

"Though I suppose if I found out sooner, you'd be more comfortable, hmm? All that unnatural rubber and material. It simply isn't healthy."

Batman shivered under her touch. He couldn't do much other than talk. "Why would you want to?" He was for it - this was far worse than the Christmas Shopping Expidition. "I am Batman. Take the mask off and I'm just a normal man at your mercy." Not that he could stop her, but he thought his words would count.

[ Every human falls prey to their dreams. No one is immune from the monsters that dwell in their head but sometimes, these monsters need a little coaxing out. But then, that's what spiders were good at. Capturing small titchy things in the dark and wrapping them up tight.

Who knows if this was a dream or a poison induced illusion? At any rate, Vincent would find himself walking down a dark endless corridor. There's the occasional glimmer of light from a candlestand but these are few and far between. Near the candles however are still pictures. Large paintings in ornate antique frames. They depict strange things in order:

the manor ablaze
Rachel in flames
a young Ciel running through the hallways
hands from the shadows taking hold of the boy
Ciel, much older and swathed in simple robes chained in a cage
A crow standing upon a mountain of bloodied skulls

As soon as he reaches the last painting, however, the darkness around him will only get deeper. Almost as if it's reaching for him. And when it finally surrounds him, he'll feel the strangest sensation: almost as if a thousand small spiders are crawling about around his brain, right in his skull. ]

Flat | Top-Level Comments Only

Page 1 of 8

«

1
2
3
4
5
6
7
8

»