bakerstreet | Forced Telepathic Bond Meme: I'm With Stupid

Forced Telepathic Bond Meme: I'm With Stupid

Telepathy. The ability to hear the thoughts of others and pry into other minds. Suddenly, you have it. Or maybe you always had it.

And now you're connected, for better or worse, to another person, for who knows how long. You can feel their thoughts and, more alarmingly, they can hear yours. You share dreams, you can feel them there constantly, you their joy and their grief.

INSTRUCTIONS;

1.] Post with your character name, canon, and any preferences you may have.

2.] Try not to leave just a blank comment. Maybe write a little scenario about what your character is thinking or feeling, something their partner can pick up.

3.] Whoever tags you now shares a telepathic bond with your character.

4.] When tagging, you may roll 1-5 Extent and for How on the RNG if needed.

EXTENT OF TELEPATHY;

1. Sudden Onset Limited. It's a bond limited to exclusively you and your partner.

2. Sudden Onset Unlimited. You and/or your partner can hear the thoughts of others, but it's largely uncontrollable. And you retain a special bond with your partner that you can't block off.

3.] Experienced Limited. You've had your bond for a little while now, and have some experience with controlling it. Limited between you and partner.

4.] Experienced Unlimited w/o Partner. You've had telepathy for a while, but having a bond with your partner is new and confusing.

5.] Experienced Unlimited Partners You and your partner are pretty used to this, and either you, or both of you, can use telepathy on other people.

HOW DID THIS HAPPEN?

1. Genetic. Baby, you were born this way. Maybe you didn't know it because it was a recessive trait and only appeared at a certain age. Maybe it's a mutation. Your partner shares this genetic trait and, by proximity, you've been bonded.

2. Government. Generic "The government is responsible!" Either you consented or you did not, but you've been partnered by an act of your government... or someone else's.

3. Experiment. You started trying to just bend spoons and... whoops! It was an experiment. Either you planned it or an enemy/evil scientist is responsible!

4. Through Strife/Friendship. You got really close, whether by sharing a hardship/trauma or just being together and getting on.

5. Really Intense Sex. Smut option. Guess it was so mind-blowing that you literally connected minds.

idea from

guiltapalooza
meme by

terrabelle

Flat | Top-Level Comments Only | Expand All

[We'll see.

The bodies tend to be faceless, just curved hips, bouncing breasts, tight asses, twitching dicks--men or women, it's never really mattered to Silva before, no reason to start now. But specifics filter through. Severine, for example. Oh, James should be most familiar with her frame, shared between lovers, at least for a night. Hitching breaths and shaking frames.

We agents, so notorious for our killing and our bedroom skills. Who knew they'd go hand in hand so well?]

[It's impossible not to have his chest heave a little faster and his eyes gain that tell-tale hunger, but Bond is quick to move, closing in on the cell and twisting away to rest his back against the clear surface. With arms folded, he can quite casually lean, not having to look or face his company and avoiding too much further visuals beyond these mental images.

Hn, if you're looking for some in return, I'm afraid I don't kiss and tell.

James seems eager to try clearing his mind again, breathing deep as he slips his eyes shut. It might work rather beautifully, were it not for the distraction of a fine ass or particularly good set of breasts that throw him off, just enough to have him straight back to the thoughts of sex again.

Pack it in. As threatening as he can make his own thoughts sound.]

[Just us in here, James. No need to be so shy. Why, if we can keep this secret from her, think of what else we could get up to without her ever knowing.

It's a delightful image, the one right in front of him rather than any in his head. Turn around. Are you afraid to let me see you?]

[But doesn't he want to see dat ass pressed against the cell? All while James lowers his head just slightly and grits his teeth. It's tough to focus on anything with lingering thoughts like this, but hell, he soon manages a smug little thought.

Keep talking, it's a great turn off.]

[Fine then. No talking. Or 'talking', really. Thinking in coherent sentences. He doesn't even think of sex...well, not really. Thinks of touching James, from his perspective. Fingers across the skin of his chest, up his neck, light caresses. Show Bond his body, his face, his attempt to keep from reacting.]

[He can't help but smirk at the visuals, at the ridiculousness of it all. Seeing himself in a scenario so fresh in his memory seen from the other side. At least he didn't do too badly at refusing to react, could have been much worse...

But he's told Silva to stop and it hasn't happened, and for that there must be consequences. His own thoughts fog somewhat, merging into the blurred visuals of himself sat on a chair, much like the one Silva was thinking of. But the recollection is dark. Unclear. There's the hazy vision of James looking down at his own body, naked and sweating, but the visuals aren't the focus, because seconds later there's a flash of searing pain and nothing else matters. Pure agony tears through the whole thought and even though it's simply a memory, Bond can't help but huff his displeasure at having to dig it up.]

[It's disorienting, now that Silva's on the other side, memories forced onto him. And the pain is sudden and astoundingly sharp. Silva slams a fist on the barrier, gritting his teeth, a slow inhale. He remembers reading about this in Bond's files. His own little torture. The memory is quite powerful and sharp, and he tries to let it disperse, diffuse.

Is that the road you want to go down now with me, 007?]

[Bond does his best to clear it away quickly, before more leaks out. Shove it back in it's little draw, lock it away and never think on it again apart from the occasional writhing nightmare, just like so many other things in his brain.]

No. [Said out loud as an assurance.] Consider it a cheap shot in return for you wank material. Some things don't need to be shared.

And here I thought we could have a little fun. I forget that sometimes agents are a little adverse to that. [But fine. Maybe he'll behave himself. For a little while.] How much do you think we might share that shouldn't be? Unintentionally, that is. How dangerous do you think it is, us being in this room?

[A low grunt as he finally turns around (his last memory certainly helped with clearing out any hint of an erection from all of that other stuff).]

And if I leave? What difference do you think that will make. I'll walk into Q branch and inadvertently share far more confidential knowledge than I can block out. [Which actually really sucks, now he comes to think of it. How can he keep secrets with someone else listening in?]

[He laughs.] James, how much do you think I don't know about MI6 and Q Branch? What isn't so wide open to me to see? And now, even your own mind...

Suppose you know it all already, hm? Still, I like to think there's a few things I can keep hidden away up here that those reports and files never mention. [Tapping a finger lightly against his temple.] I think I've got much more to learn from all of this.

And how much about me would you really like to learn? Oh yes, all my little plans, I'm sure, but what else? A little Hong Kong nightlife, perhaps? Glances at my missions of old? Or, no, you don't care about my more personal life, do you, or the man I was. You just want to get to the point of the matter. She's rubbed off on you, I think.

She knows how to get a job done. Can't fault her for that. [In fact, he'll take that as a compliment.]

I want to know your motivation, Mr Silva. What you're really here for. You hide away for almost fifteen years only to get yourself arrested? Mm, no. I think there's more to it.

Edited 2012-12-11 14:24 (UTC)

At least she hasn't raised an idiot child. Although, is it really my motivation you seek? I think she walked out the door and left us here some time ago. [There are wheels in motion, plans of a very long time in the making, but he can't expect the unexpected when the unexpected isn't something that should be able to even happen.]

Did you hear what she would do to me? Have my name stricken from the memorial. That really would be the end of him, wouldn't it? [Mommy didn't tell you who you're up against. She keeps such secrets.] Ay, and that would really be a shame, to let him fade away, no muss, no fuss, as quietly as she intended for fifteen years ago.

[As unexpected goes, this has to come pretty high up there. Unbelievable too. Impossible, even, although apparently possible enough not to be impossible.]

I know the most relevant details, thanks to you. Not much else I really need to know. Your past is insignificant compared to what you are now.

And yet it's the past that made me what I am now. Doesn't that mean anything in this situation? Someday down the road, James, you could be me.

I'll likely be dead before then. [He hopes.]

It's a hope I share for you. I thought the same, you know. Do you think that I was always like this, some rogue agent being naughty?

I think you've probably always had that psychosis. Likely wasn't as easy to spot before all this, but I think you had it in you to snap rather than break.

Ohhhh, James, it hurts how much you don't know. Why wouldn't she tell you all about me before sending you off into my grasp? She should trust you more than she does; you've got a good head on those independent shoulders of yours.

[I was just like you. Are you saying you will someday snap and attack your fellow agents? When I look at you... A glance in a mirror--a very different man than the one James sees before him. A little praise for Mister Rodriguez from M, a gun from Q branch, the feeling of the tedium of writing reports and the fun of trying to charm someone else up enough to do it for him, things that should be most familiar to the current agent. How does he get James to see, this wasn't always in him? Must he dig down, fifteen years ago, five months and a molar?]

She trusts me enough. [It was M, after all, that taught him trust was transient, if existing at all. Bond couldn't even trust his own girlfriend, his first true love. How was he meant to believe M could trust him?

The thoughts don't surprise him much, merely narrowing his eyes in curiosity. Agents like them had to be a certain sort of person, each with their own abilities, but all with the same training and the same goals. He doesn't see any of them as particularly sane. A sane person couldn't do the job that much of MI6 do.] I can certainly empathise, Mr. Silva, but I won't sympathise.

[Doesn't answer the question. You think you're likely to snap someday, then? Especially if none of us are exactly sane...

A terrifying prospect, but if it was likely, then it would happen more often. Or does Bond just think agents die before they ever reach that stage? Silva reaches, wants to pluck out the memory of that bullet as if reaching to touch that awful scar, wants to feel what became of the agent in his temporary death, the dependence on alcohol, too many pills, he wants to dig it up and remember, this is what happens to them when they don't die.]

[Silva's digging for fresh memories. It's something easier to find than most of the other thoughts and recollections stashed away to never resurface. James doesn't push back straight away, more curious on what exactly is being searched for. There's brief appearances of Macau, Singapore, his arrival back into MI6, and then a flash of his own face in the mirror, sneering- or perhaps grimacing, topless. The wound in it's later stages of healing, but James looks like shit, all stubble and red eyes.

James isn't ashamed of it. He's not proud either.

That wasn't my breaking point. I came back.

He shoves forth a reminder of him back with MI6, at M's desk, awaiting orders that led to this whole ordeal.]

[There are sad little details he catches, though. Bits of the testing Bond failed so miserably. How did he ever believe that he passed? Mother superior can be quite persuasive...

No, you came back, for all the little ideals you still think you want to uphold. Your betrayal still stings, and it will for some time, but she didn't send you to that death intending for you to fall from that train.

Sending you to me, however...

And now here they are again. James must think it a triumph that he took out all of those little nobodies of Silva's, that he sneaked the radio signal in, that MI6 came to the rescue (ha, rescue!) to take Silva in to where they both are now. Of course he's suspicious. Of course there's something more to this. Of course he let himself be captured; that was always part of the plan. If he'd wanted a showdown with Bond, he gladly would've taken his own shot, would have faced the agent down with his own physical skills and had a proper go at it.

She didn't trust you to get the job done then. She didn't trust you this time around, either. But she hoped, I'm sure. She never wants to do this. If you had died in my captivity, or even before then, it would have been a terrible personal loss, but she also would have had to shrug her shoulders and send someone else to get the job done. An unwanted memory rises, just brief flashes, but the idea gets across. Mission gone wrong? Got stupid, made a mistake, got captured? No, it was plan, someone tipped off the wrong people. Someone did this to him. Wasn't trusted. Wasn't trusted and came back wrong for it.]

If you ever are put into the situation where you break, James, rest assured, you would come to see the world my way.

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