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bakerstreet2012-07-23 05:27 pm
the captivity meme
You've been captured -- or maybe you've been held captive for a while now. Whatever the case, you've lost your freedom, and there's a specific person responsible for that. You might be a prisoner, a mental patient, a kidnap victim, or someone's pet. Maybe you're there willingly, or maybe the choice has been taken away from you completely.
Both smut and non-smut scenarios are possible. If you don't want to play smut, please indicate so in the title line of your tag.
1. Leave a tag with your character. Be sure to include any limits on what you are willing to play, as this meme has the potential to be triggering.
2. Someone else tags in and uses RNG to generate a number between 1 and 9. The second character is holding the first character captive now.
3. ???
4. Profit!
Scenarios
1. For their own good. Does this person really think they could make it on their own? It's a big, scary world out there, and you need to protect them from it, whether they like it or not.
2. For the good of society. Forget protecting this person -- it's your duty to protect the world from them! Maybe they committed a terrible crime, or maybe they were falsely condemned, but it's your job to keep them locked up where they can't do any more harm.
3. Because they're not well. How's your bedside manner? Whether you're Florence Nightingale or Mildred Ratched, you're in the position of ministering to the mentally ill. Maybe this person genuinely needs your help, or maybe you're just turning a blind eye to their true sanity.
4. For the money. Higher aims? What higher aims? This person is your meal ticket, and they're staying put until their loved ones pay up.
5. For their love. It might be a case of yandere, or it might be a consenting BDSM relationship. Whether it's by mutual agreement or by force, you're keeping them simply because you love them.
6. Because they're cute and fluffy. Who's a cutesy wutesy? They are! Yes, they are! This person is your pet now. Maybe they're a different species from you, or maybe you just don't care that you're both people. Maybe you're even an alien zookeeper looking after a new acquisition.
7. Because they're your property. Slave? Livestock? Who cares what they think - they're your property, and you decide their fate.
8. For the lulz. Hey, what's a little bondage between friends? You'll let them go, once you're done laughing and snapping photos... maybe.
9. Choose a scenario, or combine several.
are you kidding i LOVE tl;dr okay it's the best
oh, f-- ] uki... [ Mumbled. Waking up is hard. Okay, systems check. Arms, legs, neck, head, nose - seems fine. It was a little chilly, probably just because he had only put on the undershirt and shit under the suit - he'd had time to change and hadn't really felt like getting hot underneath all tha--
Where was his suit. Eyes flew open now, no more mumbling to himself, and zoomed around the room, ending on Loki. Loki standing there, while he lays on a couch without his suit - where is it then - and oh there are so many things about this that aren't good. ]
OH GOOD. Because I am full of babbling overflow.
[There's no concern in his voice, and in fact a small grin crosses his face, showing entirely too many teeth for such a faint gesture. He rakes his eyes over Stark's form, making no attempt to hide his appraisal and his subsequent decision, though what exactly that decision is will be up to his guest to decipher.
As a show of good faith, as it were, Loki looks considerably more vulnerable himself when his own armor is missing. He isn't, naturally, and if he truly wanted to he could snap Stark in half with only his hands, but appearances are everything. Without the bronze and gold plates, in a walking mass of black leather, Loki looks surprisingly thin and, if not nice, precisely, at least a bit more human.
He steps closer toward the couch with carefully measured strides, quickly coming to stand directly at Stark's side and peering down at him like a particularly curious specimen caught under glass.]
Your leg was in rather poor condition. Left leg, below the knee. [He adds this because he knows Stark will ask, and the less the human talks, the less likely he is to launch into one of his rambling fits from which there can be no escape.] I healed it. I'm sure you'll be relieved to know there should be no lasting damage, though of course, seith can be unpredictable at the best of times. Given your mortality, that reaction may be more pronounced.
[He smiles slightly again, making it clear that he's leaving it up to Stark to decide if he's lying or not, if he's telling a partial or total truth, or if he's making everything up just to toy with him.]
EXCELLENT.
You don't know what a hospital is?
[ He's trying to flex and relax the muscles in that area anyway, without being too obvious about it, because he really can't tell whether the guy is telling him the truth or not and that seems like the sort of thing that would be useful in case he needs to leave. Suddenly. Legs are kind of crucial for that sort of thing. He's not actually working that hard at it though, because the longer he's conscious, the more aware he is of other injuries coming to the surface. ]
They're usually pretty good with us mere mortals. I'd've thought you'd know that, being so good for business and all. [ Not that he would be that much happier in a hospital either - he just doesn't like people poking at him. Actually this raises a decent point. ] Why did you keep me?
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[And yeah, that's just a little irritation in Loki's voice. Honestly, and people wonder why he never does anything nice for them.
He doesn't bother acknowledging the rest of Stark's rambling, just cocks his head and stares down at him, eyes eventually fixing on the glow of the arc reactor beneath his shirt.]
There is something peculiar about you, Stark. I would know what it is. You can choose to make matters easier by simply telling me what I wish to know, but I'm quite looking forward to extracting answers from you by other means.
[His eyes flash dangerously, going unnaturally bright for just a moment as his hand flexes by his side. Green energy sparks off his fingertips, but he clamps down tightly on his self-control.]
As a proper host, however, I will allow you that choice.
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There's a lot of weird shit about me, Loki. You'll have to elaborate on that one a little more there, buddy.
[ He doesn't even care. Now he's annoyed; this is like, number three on the reasons to kidnap Tony Stark and he's so pissy about that that he just doesn't care right now. Ten, fifteen seconds tops, to come back out of his little shit fit and start acting like a human being again. ]
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Please, Stark, don't embarrass yourself. You are not a stupid man. Don't act like one.
[For a moment, he looks as though he might give in to the urge to sate his own curiosity, rip Tony's shirt to shreds and investigate the eerie blue glow on his own. The storm passes, and he opts instead to walk across the room to where a small wet bar stands. He pulls one glass out from under the bar, hesitates, then reaches for another. The air shifts subtly with a sudden disturbance as he seems to summon a crystal bottle from nothing, plucking it out of the air and pouring the thick, honey-colored liquid into both glasses.]
Has Thor introduced you to Asgardian mead? I've yet to find anything like it in this realm. Your spirits here are bitter and unpleasant. Though given the creatures responsible for brewing them, I suppose that isn't so surprising.
[Both glasses in hand, he returns to the couch and holds one out to his guest, mouth twisted into something close to a grin.]
I assure you, the drink is not poisoned. If I were to kill you, I would prefer a much more direct approach.
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With Loki's back turned - not that it's really any difference, he knows, but psychologically, no he doesn't - he attempts to sit up a little more and doesn't really get that far. Propped up, perhaps, is now a better way to phrase it, but by the time Loki returns with the glass, handing it out to him, he's only slightly moved and is playing it as casual: just wanted to be a little more comfortable.
Tony takes the glass, because, mead, but sniffs at it first, looks at it, swirls it around a little. He's heard about mead and he's seen what his human counterparts call 'mead' but he figures this shit is getting real and he might as well enjoy it. ]
Yeah, you probably would. Way more fun that way, am I right? [ And he goes ahead and takes a healthy-sized drink from it. Minimal coughing, because actually wow his throat is fucking dry and he hadn't noticed, and putting alcohol on top of that, just a fantastic idea. But after that. ] Yeah that's not too bad. Is this just your version of beer, or what?
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[He looks on with approval as Stark knocks back much of the drink, though the coughing pleases him more. The thick honey base makes the alcohol much sweeter and smoother, but the spiced fruit probably doesn't help the burn.]
No. Asgard has both, and they are separate drinks. Essentially, beer is malted; mead is not.
[He takes a decent pull from his own glass, studying it afterward with a vaguely thoughtful expression.]
When the All-Father was young, it is said he journeyed to the Well of Mimir in search of knowledge. Mimir was...let us say he is not a pleasant man, though he has reason enough to be foul-tempered, given that he is the living, discarded head of a man betrayed and left in a fetid pool of well water.
[Loki casts a quick glance to the side to gauge Stark's reaction before he continues.]
Odin found the well and asked of its keeper all he knew of the world and all others. This is not a light request, you understand, and Mimir is known to have slain many who would make demands of him. He might have done with Odin as well, had the All-Father not made a living sacrifice. He pried his own eye loose from its socket and dropped it into the well, that Mimir might know the depth of his devotion. This must have pleased him, as Mimir shared his draught with Odin and allowed him to drink from the same mead horn he used to attain his own wisdom. One drink. That was all it took for Odin to unlock the secrets of the universe.
[He tosses back the rest of the drink and snorts quietly, derisively.]
Thor and every other blind idiot in Asgard worship an old man who bought his much-vaunted wisdom. And yet I am somehow the perverse one.
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Your dad gave a diseased head one of his perfectly healthy eyeballs and then they drank some diseased-head-water and now your dad's a supposed genius? Are you sure he was ever a genius?
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[Loki practically spits the words, knuckles going chalk white as he squeezes the glass in his hand. It creaks ominously, close to shattering, but he relaxes at the last second and finishes the drink with surprising calm, emotions sliding back into place after the momentary break.]
I said he gained wisdom, Stark. That is a very different thing from being a "genius." In either case, I never believed anything of the sort.
[He waves his hand at the bottle of mead still on the bar, and in an instant it materializes before him, the neck gripped firmly in his fingers. He tops off Stark's glass, then his own, then sits on the couch next to Stark. The bottle gets placed on the floor within easy reach.]
It's a shorter story than how mortals came by the ability to brew mead. That, and I would much rather discuss the All-Father's foolishness than how he came to take yet another mistress.
[One thin shoulder lifts in a half-shrug. Loki takes another drink and then looks over at his guest, expectant.]
bedtime for me but more after work tomorrow morning!
I thought mead came around when friars were the ones who kept care of the bees, since honey's a preserver, and they wanted, you know, some non-illegal alcohol because they were friars and bored. [ His is all he has on the subject, and he's not sure why he knows it, or if he just made it up and thinks he does. But at any rate, he's got another glass of the stuff, and it's making him feel a little less... like he's in a complete panic, so. A little more down the natch. ]
So discuss it.
No problem!
[Loki raises a cynical eyebrow at Stark, clearly unimpressed with his sudden demand. He drops the glass, but a simple flick of his hand makes it disappear into the ether, undoubtedly dropped into some pocket dimension never to be found again. He doesn't care.]
I will not be ordered about, especially by one with no means for negotiating. I did not bring you here to share tales as though we were friends.
[Moving with stunning speed, he plants his hand flat against Stark's chest and pushes him back onto the couch, pinning him in with his knees and looming over him, eyes wide and intense with curiosity.]
There is...something in you, Stark. Something far from magic, but yet more than your mortal science. And I believe it has everything to do with this.
[He taps one blunt fingernail against the reactor, lips twisting back into a sneer when he earns the same metallic clinking noise as he did that day in the penthouse.]
You will make your choice now, human. Either tell me what I want to know, or I will find a much more amusing way to get my answers.
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which, yeah, could have been a tip-off as to it probably not being the right thing to do here... but whatever.
fuck. Tony's eyes are wide too but not specifically with curiosity so much as with what the fuck ]
Don't touch that. It's not magic, it's all mortal science - my mortal science, what the hell do you want to know about it? You are so not a comedian, I don't trust your idea of amusing. Get off me. [ zero punctuation, and no actual efforts made to push loki off though, because that seriously seems like a bad idea ]