Give me the truth, the whole truth, and nothing but the truth.

[thelongcon]

The Truth Meme



Whether by spell, curse or chemical, your character is now compelled to speak honestly about everything. There's a little wiggle room: all that matters is that all they say are true.



1) Post with your character, (you know the drill) they're now stuck speaking the truth.

2) Others tag in.

Comments

[mouseymolly]

Are you okay? [Without Sherlock around any longer, she means. She feels terribly guilty, hiding her secret from him.]

[impala_is_my_baby]

Yep, sure you can.

A...a friend. Okay? Just like you.

[sheriffing]

What do you want to do?

[mouseymolly]

Because it wouldn't hurt so much, then, being around you. [Molly looks away, because she can't tell a lie, but she doesn't have to look at him.] Except, it's more numb, now, not... painful, not really. It just seems like it would be easier, hating you like most people do.

[sixthanimorph]

Yeah... I guess not.

You get why I asked though, right? It's not because I don't trust you or Sam, it's just... most people have ulterior motives, you know? Even when they say they don't. That's just how people are.

I didn't think it'd be anything bad, I just thought it'd be something.

[cytologist]

After everything that happened, why didn't you get in touch with me after Harlem?

[mightbeblogging]

[John glares.] That's not why I got into the car, you git. I thought I was being kidnapped by your brother! I went along because, well, I didn't have much choice in the matter, and I was worried about you.

[highfunctioning_sociopath]

[Sherlock is dumbfounded.]

B-being around me... hurts you?

[John was wrong, then. Being around him hurts Molly, which is different from him directly hurting her, right?]

[countervail]

[ He had a response, on the tip of his tongue. About Pendleton, or maybe about nobility.

But that's thrown aside so fast, as the conversation steers harshly the way he never wanted it to - never could have imagined this talk in that first place - that his breath is physically cut from his throat. He bristles, and his hand twitched.

Martin spoke as though she stilled lived. He assumed he was successful in retrieving her. He assumed he didn't fail the Empress a second time. ]

She's dead. [ His voice dips - hoarse and hollow, pained and numb all at once. Dark eyes turn to glare, accusing. ] From the top of the Lighthouse -- [ No. Stop talking, damn it. ]

So what does it matter?

[watcherjunior]

[ She laughs at that. Of course, now she knows that. ] Well, you know me. Always willing to learn something new.

[clonksukcer]

[If only facepalms and exasparated looks weren't beyond any cool-kid worth their salt. If only.]

What a man in perfect tune with irony and out of tune with dietary thinking can afford to call himself when he's made some of the illest raps imaginable. Also called Notorious B.I.G but I'm thinking that won't really tell you anything either.

[highfunctioning_sociopath]

Oh.

[Which might have sounded like acceptance, until Sherlock thought about what John had just said.]

You... were worried about me?

[Sherlock worries about others more often than he would admit, but he will never understand the idea that people worry about him. Too many people hate him.]

[claimyourself]

[Oh, well, now that you mention it...]

That turns me on too.

[She gasps and covers her face with her hands.]

I don't know the counter Cast to this! And all I can think about now is you doing me against the wall.

[Welp. Now they know Kelting can't stop the truth telling urge.]

[nukeoleptic]

[ If only. She just wrinkles her nose subtly, shaking her head. Nope. No recognition there, so she'll go ahead and move on. ]

And dog whistles sound like... whistles. That is a pretty dumb question, Dave, jeeeez.

[fuckingneal]

[He leans in and kisses her, cupping her face with both hands and pressing her back softly against the couch. He pulls back and speaks in a low, quiet voice.] Obvious. Direct. To the point. [Joking is all well and good, but he's going to take advantage of how open and honest she is being right now.] I need you to be straight with me, Dawn. How do you feel about me?

[mightbeblogging]

[John huffs, still quite annoyed with Sherlock, but unable to tell a lie.]

Of course I was worried about you. You thought Irene Adler was dead, and you were depressed. I didn't know how to go about cheering you up. It was a good thing I got into that car.

Kain Highwind | Final Fantasy IV/Dissidia 012

[dragoon_pride]

[hunterusheroicus]

Nope. We could always use help when hunting and you needed to do something better than working in that crappy walmart.

[taser_warrior]

Well that's true on both accounts but still-I think it's easier to just shoot them with a shock to the system and run away.
I'd like to learn one day, but I wasn't lying when I said guns kind of wig me out. So much can go wrong when you have one.

[highfunctioning_sociopath]

[Sherlock thinks about it. Not that he can lie either. God, this is going to turn painful later.]

I wasn't depressed. I was angry, confused, upset. But not depressed. I didn't understand how someone as clever as her could let herself get killed. And I don't like not understanding things.

[He pauses as his brain catches up to the last part.]

Good? How was that good?

[clonksukcer]

[Alas, that answer doesn't seem to satisfy him.]

Seriously? Then why do dogs even go apeshit over them in the first place? If I hear a whistle my first instinct is to shoot someone a chilly look and tell 'em they should be ashamed for assuming I'm some piece of meat they can try to put the mack on in the crassest way imaginable, not run towards it like I'm synaesthetic and just heard and tasted the sound of bacon. You sure about this? You're not just holding out on some mindblowing info 'bout dog-whistles you don't wanna spread to us inferior round-ears, right?

[sixthanimorph]

Can't argue with that one.

You still gonna show me how to make those special rock salt rounds you kept talking about,

[bornintonothing]

[Martin's expression wavers. This is news to him-- news he's certainly not expected.]

Dead? How?

[The top of the Lighthouse? The Overseer's brow knits.]

An accident, perhaps? A result of that storm, no doubt.

[He studies Corvo for a moment, peering across the worn looking face of the once highly revered Lord Protector.]

No, it wasn't an accident, was it?

[nukeoleptic]

[ Does anything? Does anything, really? ]

I'm not holding anything out! It's super high pitched and- I don't know, really really irritating, but it's still a whistle. Kind of a whirring, I guess?

[ Her ears are perked, at attention now, and she frowns at Dave suddenly. ]

Don't you dare get any ideas, Dave Strider.

[hunterusheroicus]

Yeah I'll show you after me and Sammy get back.

You doing the research for that ghost I asked you to?