bakerstreet | The Stockholm Meme

The Stockholm Meme

THE STOCKHOLM MEME

WARNING: Meme will contain TRIGGERS, including kidnapping, dubious consent, and general uncomfortable content. Please do not click if you don't want to see, and please respect your fellow role-players.

Stockholm Syndrome is a psychological phenomenon in which hostages express empathy and have positive feelings for their captors, sometimes to the point of defending them. These feelings are generally considered irrational in light of the danger or risk endured by the victims, who essentially mistake a lack of abuse from their captors for an act of kindness.

Stockholm syndrome can be seen as a form of traumatic bonding, which does not necessarily require a hostage scenario, but which describes "strong emotional ties that develop between two persons where one person intermittently harasses, beats, threatens, abuses, or intimidates the other."

HOW TO PLAY:
1) Comment with your character and their series in the subject line of the comment. Include any preferences you might have on type of scene/squicks/etc.
2) Comment around to start scenes! Use random.org if you get stuck for ideas.

PROMPTS:
1. KIDNAPPED. You've been taken, either for ransom money or just because you've pissed the wrong people off. Or maybe your kidnapper just wants company. Maybe they need someone to be their companion, to be their confidante, and they chose you.

2. CAPTURED. Maybe you were a soldier, fighting in a battle. Maybe a spy, or a political dissident. Either way, the military has caught up with you.

3. IN CUSTODY. It's a law enforcement agent that has you locked up. Maybe you're a criminal and you're in prison, or on house arrest so that agent can keep an eye on you. Maybe the agent doesn't have enough evidence, so they took matters into their own hands.

4. ASYLUM. This person isn't keeping you here against your will. It's for safety. Maybe you're in the Witness Protection Program. Maybe you sought asylum from your own country. Maybe your criminal life got a little too heated and you had to go underground somewhere.

5. HOSTAGE EXCHANGE. A war, between countries or gangs or even planets, and the two sides have decided to exchange important hostages as a gesture of trust. You're one of them. It might even involve arranged marriage -- a way to unite your two peoples. Hope you enjoy staying with your enemy.

6. HIRED. Someone's being paid to keep you. Maybe a new parent or guardian keeping you at home, or perhaps an evil uncle has had you tossed into a discreet asylum in order to claim your inheritance.

7. SLAVERY. Through birth or misfortune, you've become the property of another. But they're not such a bad master. You might even grow to love them, if enough time passes. If they treat you with the right combination of cruelty and kindness.

8. WILD CARD. For anything not covered by the other options!

Flat | Top-Level Comments Only

[Shadow glared pure daggers at the one he was handed to. Sure his own side got the very same thing, but that didn't helped his mood at all. No he was more keen to kick this one between his legs and run for it, but then the fighting would only be picked up again and he couldn't have that. For now glaring had to be enough to satisfy him.]

[Taking hostages wasn't something Kiritsugu usually did, but this was a special case. To stop the fighting, sacrifices had to be made. As a freelancer, he'd been chosen as a neutral party of sorts to take care of this particular hostage, and he'd agreed, because of all the lives it would save.

Kiritsugu could sense the hostility emanating from him and was ready to take evasive action if the need arose.]

There's no need to glare like that. This is for everyone's good, including yours.

I know. I don't have to like it for that.

[Just because his sacrifice stopped all of this fighting and saved life had nothing to do with how he liked the situation. Being denied his freedom tasted sour in his mouth and even if it wasn't the other's fault that he had been chosen it would be him that he aimed his hate at.]

[m/m for sexual situations, OTA for anything else. If Will is the captor and yours is the victim, it would be #3.]

[M/M for smut, OTA for everything else]

[ At one level, far in the distant past, Hannah knew this was wrong. He knew that by somehow depriving Alois of a normal childhood - school and friends and scraped knees and sunshine - he was damaging the boy far more than he had been in those few months they spent forcibly separated. Surely Alois had railed against him, the last tantrum lasting weeks before he calmed down, slumped bonelessly in Hannah's arms with tearful apologies. He had to learn how hopeless it was for him without Hannah's protection, how viciously he would be treated if he ventured outside the walls of their home. That was why each escape attempt had been punished severely and immediately, why Hannah had to take time to teach Alois that to disobey him would result in a far deeper and more agonizing betrayal for Alois himself.

Other times Hannah treated him well, giving him all manner of fine things, calling him by pet names and rewarding his loyalty with devoted tenderness. He wanted to be Alois's entire world, and have the boy dote on him with as much obsessive love as he gave in return.

But loyalty had to be tested and it was with this purpose that Hannah entered Alois's room in the lazy afternoon, waking the boy by brushing back his bangs with long fingers. ]

Time to wake up, princess.

It's not, [ is how he answers, barely audible, scarcely cracking his eyes. he lets air, shifts limbs under covers, and rolls onto his side. ]

Little longer.

[ Alois's willfulness is charming when he's not being completely uncooperative. It eases Hannah's conscience that the boy can still pout and grouse before giving in. Provided he does give in. ]

Oh? You don't want to see all the new clothes I bought for you?

[ here, that pale-blue pair do fully open, with a disinterested stare attached to the wall opposite. ]

You went out? [ his head stays on the pillow, he doesn't spare a glance. ]

[ He brushes his fingers through Alois's fine hair, letting the silky blonde strands slip between them. Smiles. ] A sweet boy like you would be torn to pieces out there. You wouldn't have a single fine thing to wear, much less to eat. [ Hannah's demeanor is calm but there's a low note to his voice, warning Alois about pushing the subject further. ]

[ for a near full minute, he's rigidly still, listening to the way hannah's voice coasts out him combined with the trace of long fingers in those downy strands. there've been more mornings, or afternoons, when he's sweet and compliant.

but, this one feels heavy with unfairness. he's thinking he can punish, too. he feels wounded, hot-blooded.

with a careless air, he brushes hannah's hand with the small back of his own from his scalp. ] Show me later.

[ Hannah takes hold of Alois's wrist then, engulfing the thin bones in a firm grip. ] Let's have none of that, Alois. [ It's his last warning, a syrupy threat coated in calm. If Hannah gets angry that's Alois's victory. There's no anger here. Like a dog, if Alois disobeys Hannah's command he will be punished. If it's something akin to torture, it's only what Alois deserves. ]

Why. Don't like it when I'm not up for indulging your every whim?

[ a lilting taunt. he is propped up, though. feeling irritable and rebellious, and a tinge amused. ]

[ Instead of a reply, Hannah strikes him hard across the cheek. He sighs, disappointed. ]

I only want you to understand this is all for your own good.

[ the boy's small face jerks to the side with the impact of it, hand flying to meet him, and a trembly gasp bursts from him in the same instant.

shakily, but not much less testy, he twists the arm hannah still has hold of, ready to wrench if he has to. ]

You mean, yours. [ he snaps, damply. ] Get out of my room! I don't care about your stupid fucking clothes!

[ He expected this. Further violence would only drive a wedge between them, give Alois more to be furious about, and no reason to beg for forgiveness. The boy is surprisingly resilient in that respect. No...

Hannah reaches over to Alois's bedside table, tightening his grip on that slim wrist until it must hurt, and snatches up a small, beloved glass butterfly. A useless thing that gained unwarranted importance in lieu of living companions. ]

I shall. And I will take little Penelope to keep me company in your place. [ He shoves Alois back on the bed and stands, holding the butterfly high out of reach. ] Come to me when you're ready to apologize. If you aren't honest with me I'll smash her to pieces.

[ the whimper that wants to come is bit back, but watching hannah's fingers fall over that precious butterfly has something frantic mounting in him. he's up on his knees as his older brother keeps penelope out of reach, looking lost, in part, and nearly ready to scream. ]

I'll burn the whole fucking house down, if you so much as crack her! [ this is alois' shrill retaliation, as, standing on the edge of the bed, he grasps for hannah's shirt to yank him back. ]

[ hannah gives him a pained look, though more out of frustration than actual pity. he does not like making the boy suffer, but alois's refusal to obey him leaves him with no other recourse. the frantic, anguished threat is beautiful, though, and hannah wishes for a moment alois would continue to lash out, to give him an excuse to dash the butterfly to pieces and kiss away every piteous tear that fell from the boy's eyes.

he takes alois's wrist again in his free hand, pushing the boy back on the bed once more. penelope he still holds well out of reach. twisting the wrist in his hand, he leans down, kissing his brother's bruising cheek. ]

I'll be in the library. Come find me when you're ready to apologize.

[ he releases alois's wrist, now splotched with red from his twisting grip, and strides quickly out the door, closing it firmly behind him. ]

[ it's penelope and penelope alone who has his owl-eyed watching when he meets the bed again. for hannah, though, and the ardent clutch he has around that little bone—a whine, mostly comprised of trembling air. it hurts, clearly. out of dread and fury, he's shaking, and hannah must be able to feel it, in his wrist, on his smooth, wounded cheek. the boy emits a sound of irritated discomfort when lips do come near to touch his bruise, and it's enough to make a spilling of ocean water from his eyes.

he's sitting up limp, dejected, as he watches hannah's back move through the doorway. the scream he lets isn't as loud as it could be, it's tired sounding, already knowing of his defeat. even so, he sobs in that room for well over an hour, before he does go seeking his brother.

bare-footed, still weeping, although growing worn from it, and stumbling he moves through the hall between his room and the library. ]

Brother, [ penitent, flimsy. ] Brother, Brother, please.

Edited (I CAN READ OK GOSH) 2013-05-27 07:07 (UTC)

Please? [ hannah smiles mildly over the book he's reading, glancing up at alois from behind thin-framed spectacles. the boy is a splotchy-faced, teary-eyed, whimpering mess.

good.

he's in no rush to fetch the little butterfly. not until alois thoroughly learns his lesson. ]

What are you asking me for now, Alois? I hope it's not for more candy; you eat far too many sweets as it is. [ he acts as though the violent outburst had not even happened, as though the purpling bruise on alois's cheek wasn't the work of his own hand, as though he has no idea what could have upset the boy. ] Speak up.

[ that he's warring with himself must be obvious, as he stands nearly breathless in the threshold of the library, pressing knuckles or wrists against his eyelids. the next 'Brother' is frustrated, urgent, whining. but, by now, he knows it won't be enough, and his lower lip half vanishes into his mouth to be bitten.

there's a moment of shameful, waffling, tearful hiccups, before the youngest brother decides to venture further in, closer. he goes to kneel next to him, settling chin and hands on the arm of the chair. ]

I was really awful. I was so awful, after you went and did such a kind thing for me. Please, don't be angry anymore, all right? I'm sorry; I'm bad. I know it. I'm really, really sorry I wasn't as kind to you. I love you. Please, don't be sore anymore. All right? [ the more it carries on, the more he can feel the rapid need to cry all over again, and his breath hitches, he tries to strain away from it. ] I love you so much, so don't be mad at me.

[ hannah feels a small, irrational surge of jealousy towards the tacky, useless lump of glass he has tucked away on a high shelf. that alois can lower himself to sobbing over such a worthless piece of trash makes hannah want to strip the boy of everything he's ever given him, burn his toys and his clothes until there really is nothing left for him but hannah himself. ] It hurts me when you act so selfishly, Alois.

[ he sets the book down and pats his lap gently. ] Come kiss and make up, and we'll see if we can't have a more pleasant afternoon.

[ his hands retreat with a little flinch, a bit of a sting at what's been said first. like having his nose rubbed in his shortcomings. still looking as contrite and pitiful as ever, he moves to place himself with great care and gentleness onto the lap his brother patted a moment earlier.

the breath he draws in is shivery, and he's staring far-off at his own knees, then he leans in to give the smallest of pecks to the corner of hannah's lips. ]

Good boy. [ hannah settles his hand between alois's thighs, curling his fingers possessively over the soft curve of flesh. he could force them open right now, fuck the boy into raw, stinging exhaustion, but he would really rather hear alois beg for it first. ] But I think you can muster a bit more enthusiasm, darling.

[ a wad of emotionally drained stickiness is swallowed. he clenches the fingers of one hand in his other, quietly says: ] Sorry.

[ then, he closes the inches of space between them once more, the curvature of his small, hot mouth connecting with hannah's. it's a touch heartier, although no less tense, the way his lips gingerly move. the nervous wringing of his fingers ceases in favor of settling one against his brother's arm. ]

[ hannah smiles into the kiss, keeping it closed-mouthed and gentle. ] Better. [ he slides his hand beneath alois's body, tracing circles around his tight entrance but not pushing in, not yet. ] You'll love all the fine things I purchased for you. You'll feel just like a princess. A sweet, obedient little girl who does what she's told and always receives the nicest rewards. Would you like that?

[ he strokes forward, dragging his fingertips against alois's scrotum. ]

[ those thighs of his on hannah's lap clench as he grows rigid all over, anticipation coiling in him, and when, instead, hannah's fingers press into his little, tender sack, he gasps audibly. his back curves vaguely, ass rising a centimeter. ]

I'm, [ breath. ] I'm a boy.

ooc: likely to be the victim. if he's the captor, it's probably a 6 where he got in over his head.

Unless you happen to be a serial killer, then he will option 1 with him the captor and he'll not be a nice person at all.

Edited 2013-05-23 00:01 (UTC)

ooc: open to everything for captor or captive. smut is a maybe and it'll take time no matter the genders involved.

[It wasn't him who kidnapped her, of course. Mystique had to be sent for such a delicate operation, and even her cover was blown when the Adler woman turned out to know Sherlock Holmes better than they'd anticipated. But brute force won out in the end, and she was brought to the Brotherhood slightly damaged but intact.

It isn't even him who questions her, day after day, trying to pry out any information that could weaken human governments and provide another place for Mystique to slide in and influence things. That's left solely to Magneto, and considering how long she's been here, it's not going well.

No, Pyro is the one who brings her food three times a day. He's always got the tray balanced on one hand and his igniter lit with the other, just to remind her that he could knock her against the wall (or even melt the flesh from her bones) if she tried to bolt past or overpower him, since she's unshackled. He's basically the pet-sitter of the Brotherhood right now, and it doesn't sit well with him. But if this could get them a foothold in their war, he'll do what he has to.]

'Morning, Mistress. [It's not said with the sneer it used to hold; it's just what he calls her now, a joke turned stale and then forgotten.] Hope you like your eggs over-easy.

[To be quite honest, she was going to die of boredom here. Whatever this 'Brotherhood' thought they were doing, they weren't a match for any of the clients she'd dealt with in the past or her, and it was boring. There were times when she wished she could give them some pointers, honestly, just to spice things up a little bit.

The 'powers' bit was interesting, however. It'd taken some getting used to, realizing that these people could hurt her without needing the necessary equipment; her first few escape attempts had been disastrous but informational.]

Darling, do you really not know me by now? [ She doesn't bother opening her eyes when he enters her cell, reclining on the bed that she fashioned into a couch during the day. One had to keep up appearances. ] No eggs, dear. Just toast and some tea.

And, of course, the key to the this cell.

[ _{let me know if you'd like me to omit IM3 spoilers in our thread. I don't suspect I'll be mentioning a whole lot of them, but it's good to be know to be careful just in case.} ]

Once upon a time, the only people Justin had to "beat out" intellectually were people who were so far from his level it was laughable. He would have been beating them in a worse manner than kicking a newborn puppy; it would be cruelty that indicated he had some serious issues. Justin didn't excel in school and compare himself to anyone else in his classes, if only because there was no room for comparison. And when teachers didn't much care for a student far brighter than they, he didn't hold it against them so much.

It must be tough, he knew, teaching a kid who could have written the book a few years before he ever walked the halls of high school. Middle school, even.

And then he got out in the world, which wasn't too terribly awful. It meant he didn't have to deal with assholes who thought might made right, that they could bully a thin boy in terrible glasses and get away with it. They could, of course, because unless they went overboard, no one could really do anything legally. The old days. It built character, they said. But in the actual world, anyone who tried to beat him down could easily go to prison. And they would, if Justin's wealth and influence had anything to do with it.

He got out into the real world. He got out into the business that Tony Stark happened to be in, and his wealth and influence had led him to prison (a special one, as per SHIELD's apparent methods), and things hadn't really gone so well after that.

Justin was fine, they said. He would be watched until his dying day (or until SHIELD fell apart, which was a hope Justin held), but he wasn't a threat. They'd monitor any large exchanges of money, look into anything that seemed suspicious, and Justin would remain aware of his monstrous screw up and submit to any search at any time, no protesting or questions asked.

Justin had faced Iron Man before. He'd faced him on stage and hadn't had the humility to so much as back away in his presence; actually, he found himself wondering when Tony went from being eye level to so much taller, and had been on the cusp of making a hooker boots joke before he blurted out a certain name. One might not back down, but one certainly didn't joke around when it was so obvious that the man in the not-iron suit before them knew what they were involved in.

But that's all in the past. So is Iron Man, from what Justin's seen. He has his doubts about that, though; the Iron Man suit can fly. It's as close to man growing wings as can happen, who on Earth could give up that sense of freedom? But that's really not his business.

Actually, it is. It's the reason Tony's around in the first place. He's not around like he would be at some charity or another, something to save the panda whales off the coast of a country no one's heard of and is smaller than Guam. Oh no. Tony's "around" in the sense that Justin's secured him. Not just as someone who can't leave, but secured bodily. There he is, drugged into unconsciousness and shackled to a chair bolted straight into a concrete foundation. Not handcuffs. Not zip ties. Actual thick, heavy chains that run from wrist to wrist, down to his ankles, and end up looped together so one movement forces the others to move as well. The room isn't small, but it's not overly large. But it's not dirty. It's a dull green, a little too bright to be comfortable to someone coming out of any sort of sleep, and even the chains are clean. They might have been polished before their usage, even. In front of him lies a desk with plenty of paper, because he's going to need it.

And across the way from him sits one Justin Hammer, who's had enough of waiting patiently. He's no medical expert, so there's no dealing with injections to wake him. As far as he's been told, it should have worn off ten minutes prior. But maybe Tony was just a little tired. So he holds out a handful of smelling salts just beneath his nose. And because they're both appreciative of presentation, it's coupled with a few squirts from a bottle filled with water. Because if there's anything Justin could have in his life that would make it better, being able to treat Tony Stark like an animal would be top of that list.

Which is probably cruel and means he has serious issues, but he won't lose too much sleep over it.

"Wake up, Anthony. I need you alert and aware and focused. Snap out of it."

Edited 2013-05-24 03:30 (UTC)

Coming to hurts. It hurts like a bender that lasted a week; his head hurts, his eyes hurt, his body hurts. He jerks awake very suddenly but he has to recover from the sensation, what with colours and lights being too bright and too there, and his tongue is thick and sluggish and what the fuck happened to him. He swallows despite his throat being made of 100% sandpaper, and he can't help but moan a little, squeezing his eyes shut again.

Nothing makes sense. He's in a room that looks like it was painted in the 60s, and that in and of itself is weird. He'd specifically banned the 60s from his presence.

His brain kicks itself into action and he opens his eyes, starts to notice things. Chains, for example. Without thinking he moves, pulls them to their limit, tight and tense before relaxing again. That's not good. What else isn't good: the fact his head feels like a samba dance happened on it for six years. Another bad thing: is that Justin Hammer? Is it? Really? Or is his head playing terrible tricks on him?

Everything's starting to clear up and he realizes that no, it isn't. That's Justin Hammer. And Justin Hammer just sprayed water on him, and is talking to him, and- Anthony? That little shit.

"Morning, starshine." Yeah, he can't help it. Even with his voice hoarse from his throat not working properly, he's still got to sass the guy who's apparently just chained him to this chair. This whole awake thing is getting worse all the time. "I like the room. Paint's a nice touch. The color is very you."

Sweet fuck, what the hell did he take? Why is it so hard to just wake up? At least he's starting to regain control of his everything. He wants to rub his face, try and collect himself, but god knows that if Hammer is the one who chained him here, he'd enjoy Tony's trying to move way too much, so he stays still.

"I don't remember pencilling you in." I don't remember much of anything, what the fuck.

It's just three squirts of water. Just three. Surely, a man like Tony Stark can handle a bit of water. If not, what sort of man is he in the first place?

Not that Justin should go in that direction, all things considered.

"Mm. No. You wouldn't. I didn't exactly call for an appointment."

It is way, way too enjoyable to watch Tony squirm, but there's no real murderous intentions behind it. Oh no. Justin never wanted Tony to actually die, which made helping bust Vanko out of prison and even worse idea. It had all been a bad idea, truth be told, but he saw him in Monaco. He saw him actively try and kill Tony, and in his envy had had some idea that he could control the man. He could get his technological expertise and buy him off. Granted, he'd grown suspicious of the entire thing when all Vanko had wanted was a bird, but he'd played second fiddle for too long to let go of what little hope he had so easily.

"This isn't about me anyway. This is...this doesn't have anything to do with Hammer Industries or Stark Industries, it's not all me." He paused, tapping his fingers on the table at a volume he knew was definitely too loud to someone who was having issues with even being awake. "I'm here on behalf of the American government. You got your head on straight yet or do you need more time?"

"Oh, so. Just like old times then."

Goddamn, this guy got right under his skin and half the time he wasn't even trying. Though, the amount of effort he put into doing so was just extraordinary. Tony had no doubt Hammer would actually be able to do something someday if he put his mind to something that WASN'T getting on his nerves.

Now he's tapping and christ that hurts. he can't help but wince, looking down.

"Don't give me that crap, we both know it has something to do with either of us. I mean, the chains are a dead giveaway, here." He's just decided not to look at Hammer at all. That should drive him nuts. In fact, he's just going to close his eyes, relax completely. "Aaaanytime you feel like getting to the point."

Were Tony to ever tell Justin he thought he put effort into pissing him off, he'd reassure him he didn't. He just had to say his full name, just had to draw it out a little and make his presence known in the most grating of ways. It was hardly difficult. And after realizing Tony was going to spend his life being an asshole to everyone and anyone (or maybe it was Justin and people like him, though who in his position would like to think there were a good deal of people like themselves?), it had almost become a reflex. At least, when Tony got too close. There had been times when he'd realized they were at the same event and he'd purposefully stayed as far away from him as he could.

But, sometimes, it felt good to be an asshole, and who better than Tony Stark to get that out of his system with?

"The point?"

He sighs, shrugging one shoulder as though he's accepting the inevitable. There's a moment before he starts digging around the papers, pulling out a manilla folder hidden at the bottom. Opened, there's three pictures displayed: one of Tony as Tony, one of Tony as Iron Man, and one that's a close up on the little glowing circle of light right in the middle of his suit. It's circled. There's an arrow pointing to it. It's what Justin points to himself, pushing the pictures forward so Tony can look at them without having the awful burden of looking at Justin himself.

"So here's the situation. You ready? I already worked on War Machine—Iron Patriot now, though I think it's the stupidest name change, but at least it's not some symbol—so I can recreate a streamlined suit. But this? This thing here, this is...this is extraordinary, I'm guessing. It wasn't on the suit when I dealt with it, though. So I'm assuming, personally, it's got something to do with those...palm blasting things you've got going on. On my end, I have to confess a good deal of scientific curiosity, yes. On the government's end, however, they don't really care about the science. They care about it being made anew and put it in a slew of functional Iron Man suit-like suits. But, you see, I can't do that without this little thing here. I don't think anyone can. So...you can give me the details and get out of here without any muss or fuss, no one knows but you and me and a handful of higher ups...or you can sit here for the weekend while everyone thinks you're on vacation, see how long it takes you to pass out from thirst. And let me tell you something, okay? You're not going to get up to go to the bathroom, so. You know. A little motivation there."

He tries not to look at the folder but curiosity grabs the better of him about the time the words "streamlined suit" come into play. A quick sneaky peek and he suddenly feels incredibly, increasingly worried. Government wants arc reactors to power suits.

He's suddenly acutely aware of the reactor in his chest. The soft hum he can feel in his bones. The way it's connected to his body, the way he can actually feel it light up, feel it dim and pulse and react.. All the little subtle things. Deflect. Deflect somehow. Get the attention away. Don't flare up, don't flare up.. He focuses everything on keeping it as dim as possible.

Stark lets out a quiet sigh, rolling his eyes.

"Okay. For starters, arc reactor. It's called an arc reactor. Do you not read the papers? Or something? Because it's not like I've been hush-hush on any terminology here. Second, repulsors. Say it with me: repulsors. 'Palm blasting things' isn't even close. Third, do you even know how to make a 'streamlined suit'? Because I saw War Machine- which, by the way, just in case you forgot, mostly my tech -and it was huge and chunky and absolutely ridiculous. You don't just nail shit to a body shell and hope it works out for the best. Or are you not doing that whole pesky 'science' thing anymore?"

He can't help it- he has to look up, sneer, cock his head a little. "Seriously. Was it the math? It was the math, wasn't it. Look, you didn't have to turn to thuggery in despair or anything. I know how hard life can be, but math's easy to learn. You could probably just Google it if you got super desperate."

Justin has the overwhelming urge to interrupt him. He has every fiber in his being crying out to cut the bastard off. But it's very important to let Tony think he has some sort of control over the situation, that maybe Justin can be "reasoned" with and come to a conclusion that's favorable. That is: he can talk his way out of it. He has to let him hold onto the hope that Tony will find something that tugs at a few heartstrings or emotionally puts Justin into a mess of a man, that he'll give up out of frustration or just plain "coming around" to see things Tony's wait.

But it won't happen. He won't let it happen. Besides, Justin doesn't even have the keys to his shackles. He certainly doesn't have anything to cut them off with, either.

So it's very, very important to give Tony hope. It's also rather cruel, he knows, but he's just following orders. Isn't that what's said when a man who's done awful things is on trial? I was just following orders. I couldn't disobey.

There's not going to be a trial for Justin Hammer. Not in this life, and he hardly believes in any god.

"Yes. I know the terminology, Tony." He has to loosen up a little. He has to make him think that Tony's breaking down walls. Somehow. It's not like he's never called him Tony before. He just doesn't really use it to his face if he can help it. "I was, however, informed that there are just, really, just a wide variety of side effects that come with what you were knocked out with. Impaired memory, dizziness, nausea, general discombobulation...then again," he shrugs again, goes so far as to give a brief laugh, "I've seen you give extremely complicate speeches piss-your-pants drunk. I was just trying to make it easier on you, okay? I didn't mean to insult you."

And even as he talks about not insulting him, he picks up a pencil and taps it against the table, looking from that bastard's sneering face down to the topmost piece of paper.

"Shall we start? Or do you want me to play up some stereotypical villain shit? Tell you where Potts is, talk about Doctor Banner, mention we had to unplug JARVIS to keep him quiet?"

Oops?

"You do? I'm shocked."

He feels a lot of things, all at once, and they threaten to overwhelm him if he thinks about it for any amount of time. It's easier to swallow it all and be a little shit. Maybe he can get Hammer to leave. That would improve his current conditions by about 1000%.

Probably have cameras in the room, though. Or maybe not. Data has a bad habit of ferreting it's way into the light whenever Tony has something to do with it. He rolls his eyes as Hammer starts to do his cute little "scary guy" bit and looks away, glancing at the edges of the room. If there are cameras, they're not immediately obvious.

But now he's threatening Tony's family- JARVIS included -and it takes everything he has not to freak, not to lose it and look scared. He keeps his face as disinterested as he possibly can, though his eyes might be just the littlest bit angry.

"You know, I would- really, I would? -but I'm a little busy wondering what government you're working for, because last time I checked the American government wasn't real keen on how completely you screwed the pooch the last time you did business." Dick. "Are you the only act tonight, or do I get someone I can actually talk to after this?"

Justin's "cute little" routine isn't really meant to be scary. Potts is at a conference, the question about Doctor Banner is basic but morbid, and JARVIS' fate is entirely in Tony's hands. Short of completely destroying every Stark home the world over, Justin wouldn't know how to get rid of him, exactly; and even if he did, Tony could probably bring him back online. Or maybe he'd have to start over from scratch, and wouldn't that be a kick in the pants?

"I'm sorry, are you calling me a liar?"

Justin's lied before. He most definitely has, as Tony well knows. He didn't know what he was talking about his ass, but he hadn't backed down when faced with Iron Man and he certainly wasn't going to back down with faced with Tony Stark, Dick Extraordinaire, Rubber Of Failures In The Faces Of Others.

"Or have you lost your marbles? Yes, the American government. While what happened at the Stark Expo wasn't exactly something they appreciated, they still want those suits. You remember Senator Stern, don't you? The one who said 'fuck you' on national news television? Yeah, he really wants those suits. He wants them so much he helped me break Ivan Vanko out of prison several years ago. And you know what? Even after all that? They still want these suits. So, you know: surprise, it wasn't just me. The government you've been letting control that suit your friend the lieutenant colonel took? Pretty corrupt.

"Are you going to play twenty questions or are we going to get down to business? Let's be professional about this, how's that?"

"Yes. Yes I am."

Duh.

"Was I not being clear?" He cocks his head, fixing Hammer with a full-on pity look. "The answer? Is no. It's not happening. Not for you, not your buddies- not anyone, Senator or otherwise, who thinks they can scare me out of my tech." A quick shrug, and he looks away again.

"Usually I love a good professional with a nice set of chains, but I think I'll pass this time up, thanks. In a committed relationship now, really something special." Fuck you.

Justin hears his answer. He obviously does, because when Tony gives it to him, he leans back in his chair as though he knows he's going to be there for a while. He digests it—no no no no no fuck you asshole I hate your guts and also no—and lets Tony continue. The crack about chains doesn't bring a smile to his face, but it doesn't make him grimace, either; Justin's well aware of his reputation as playboy. It doesn't strike him as unusual in the least. Crass, definitely. But, hey. They're both men, right? They can get away with it.

He watches him for a while, bottom lip being rolled between his teeth as he thinks about the best way to work around this entirely expected situation. Grabbing up the pencil, he taps one end on the edge of the desk, lets it fall to the other side, tap, and the process starts all over again. Like a makeshift deer scarer, only without the intricacy and not a soothing sound of water to be found within earshot.

Tony is probably expecting him to say something. Do something. Get angry and pitch a fit, spill details of where each individual in Tony's life currently rests, break down into some sort of heart-to-heart to try and win him over.

But not yet. Not now, at any rate. Now he's just going to slide that pencil between his fingers and letting the tapping do the talking. His head still has to be a little fuzzy, he knows. It's not Chinese water torture by any stretch of the imagination, but Justin is quiet and still...except for that tapping that seems to be growing in volume with each passing hit of it against the desk.

(ooc; any preferences?)

(I'd be good with everything up there. Did you have an idea in mind?)

( let me know if you want him to be the kidnapper or the kidnapped - kidnapper will likely be mirror!verse if you're cool with that. also spoilers might happen. )

[Kidnapper Jim would be great. Mirror or whatever and/or spoilers are all okay]

[ 'Keep him at all costs.' That was the message sent to him from the Empire, to keep the man locked away in the brig, away from the world at large. Jim didn't hesitate - as soon as the boy was aboard, he'd locked him away. Despite not knowing the young man, nor what he stood for - or for that matter, why the Empire was so intent on keeping him away from planet Earth, Jim had found himself visiting this particular inmate personally. A few times, here and there, outside of the security guards that delivered meals and escorted the young prisoner to the facilities. Most of the time he merely stood, observing, watching with a keen eye to make certain the young boy would have no possible means of escaping.

After a period of time, he decided to find out why.

Allowing himself into the young man's cell, he stood in the doorway to watch him, arms crossed as he surveyed him. ]

What do you know? [ Sensitive material about one of the Admirals perhaps. Otherwise worrisome information. There had to be some reason why he was still alive however - and that was the part Kirk was lost on. ]

[James was still in the 'planning his escape' part of his escape. Complicated by the fact that he wasn't really as good with technology as his teammates. He'd memorized as much of the ship as he'd been shown.

He watched carefully when the Captain was in the room, making a note of it, but not saying anything. Mostly he slept, and planned, and looked around the room. At least he didn't have to do any cleaning, and overall, it was a lot... less terrible than he expected.]

Not much.

[He was bored enough to actually entertain the conversation. James had been lying on the floor, but he did a backward roll to his feet so he could take a few steps closer and get a good look at the Captain.]

Maybe a little more than you do.

[ Brows lifted, and he stared at the young man, watching him closely. He's not sure what to think of him truthfully, not sure what to think of him at all, nothing too remarkable about his looks. Nothing by the look of it. So there had to be something, something that he wasn't quite seeing. ]

And what is it that you know? [ Quiet. Don't test him. ] Care to elaborate?

Why I'm in here, for one.

[James has a curious look on his face.] I'm surprised you don't know, but I guess they have their reasons.

[He paces for a minute before he decides he might as well]

It's not about what I know.

(As a sign of peace from a newly discovered planet they sent their Princess onto the ship? Mirror verse or normal is fine. I've also seen the new movie so you don't have to worry about spoilers.)

[ Apparently, some cultures still believed in arranged marriage. Jim was fresh from the planet, having done the cordial thing and introduced himself and attempted to fix a particular situation for the people of the kingdom. He hadn't honestly expected anything in return, much less to have a princess transported to him. A sign of good will, according to the people of the planet, the hand of it's most lovely daughter.

He didn't really know what to do with ...that. So he had greeted her, he would have offered her a way back, but Spock warned him against breaking traditional customs. Kirk had this lovely woman aboard the starship with absolutely no idea of what to do with her. ]

Uh. I suppose we'd...better get you a place to stay, how about that?

[She nodded, looking around the ship curiously. It was so different, so much more advanced than what she was used too. It was obvious to anyone who looked at the slender girl that she was fasianated by everything surrounding her.]

That would be appreciated, yes. Will we be staying here long?

[it was a different kind of exile: instead of ice and an eternity of sleep, spend the rest of his days on a starship. It wasn't living, but it wasn't cryostasis, either. Should his feet touch terra firma, a swift execution would follow. Never one to beg for anything, John simply appealed to Kirk, the one man who would understand his motivations better than anyone (save perhaps Spock, but it wasn't his command).

He was willing to make the case for asylum, provided his people were kept absolutely safe. All that remained was for Kirk to render his decision, yay or nay.]

[ the crimes that the supposed John Harrison had placed against the Federation rendered him a criminal on Earth, a terroristic threat at the highest level and a murderer. Of course, when the man had fled to the far reaches of enemy space, things took a bit more of a complicated turn, and Jim found himself playing keeper to the man, keeping him locked in the brig until they were able to understand more about the situation. orders from Starfleet had been clear - if the man were to set foot on Earth, or any other Federation planet, he would be put to death immediately.

There was nothing about Federation space, however, sort of an international waters clause. If he stayed on board the Federation vessel, he was granted reprieve from his punishments.

The few crew members he'd spoken to regarding the situation hadn't been much help, he'd gotten a delicately raised brow from Spock and a terribly scathing sounding 'do whatever you feel is right, but your consideration is wrong' speech. Bones had been a bit more kind to the situation, though entirely for the wrong reasons, wanting to study the man's rapid healing rate and more advanced body mechanics. Kirk was left to make the decision for himself, and as he stood in front of the brig, he watched him - a man in a cage. ]

I've made my decision. [ The captain waits, pausing for a moment before meeting the other's eye. ] The Enterprise is willing to grant you asylum, provided you are able to be located on this ship at all times.

[Whenever he sits, it is ramrod straight, perfect posture and relaxed shoulders. But when he stands it appears stilted, artificial. Uncomfortable. He is either at rest, or in readiness. There is no in between.

Kirk approaches and he rises to meet him, as much a sign of deference to his authority as anticipation of the verdict. Asylum, but with confinement.

It's a start.]

And are these walls to be my quarters?

[referring to the brig: spartan, sterile. Solitary with a window. Not that he needs accoutrements, but just to be clear. He wants to know if he will be kept as an animal in a zoo.]

[ It's not really like Jim to want to confine others, to imprison someone against their will. He can count the number of times on one hand one of his crew members has been kept in the brig - few and far in between, he doesn't like the concept. At the same time, he doesn't always entertain war criminals on the Enterprise - this, in and of itself, is definitely a first. Blue eyes are cast forward onto Khan, and he's quiet for a moment, contemplating the very concept of the man being free. ]

I can't overlook what you've done. [ His teeth grit, fingers clench. ] You're still a criminal, that still stands. Right now you're still considered a threat, and until that threat passes... [ He trails off. Yes. He's keeping you in the brig for now. ]

We'll see.

[There is an almost imperceptible flicker of something across his face, several emotions and trails of thought all hitting at once. Tensions would be high for a while, so confinement (if conditional) was to be expected. It wasn't ideal, but cryostasis with nearly no chance of being brought out was hardly better than an incredibly slow death sentence. When presented with two fates equally distasteful--slow death or instantaneous--it was preferable to take a third option.

After a moment, he relaxes his posture enough to make it look like acquiescence.]

If I am to be imprisoned, I would like to pass the time reading. Three centuries is a long time, Captain.

Physical books will suffice if you don't trust me not to reprogram a data PADD.

[A slight note of humour.]

[ Tensions are already high, none so obvious as Kirk's, the way his jaw is set, the way his eyes are straight forward. He's not giving on this. Not yet. It's better to let the man sit in an indefinite time-out to think of what he's done, to sit there and rot and think about what lives he's ended, affected, a drop of water in a ripple effect of something that's ripped throughout Starfleet. When the man seems to drop his guard, face relaxing, Kirk somewhat relaxes as well, taking a slow, deep breath. ]

I'll allow you a PADD. [ He's shooting that right back at him, those blue eyes boring down into him, lips widening an increment. ] Why don't we start with that? If I can trust you with a data PADD, maybe we'll see how letting you out of here and into some quarters of your own will work. [ He thinks he's being rather generous with that offer alone, lips curling. ] You are going to be here a while, after all.

[If he were to sit and ruminate until he felt guilty, he'd be sitting until Ragnarok. Khan is not a man who feels remorse, especially after doing what he felt he must in order to defend the ones he loved.

Well, maybe a few emotional outbursts, but both born of believing his people had been killed.]

Captain, it is almost a certainty that, should nature take its uninterrupted course, I will outlive you.

[Still wry. Almost like a Vulcan. What a pity that Spock will loathe him as much as a Vulcan can.]

[Jio had been found on a ship with unknown origin together with four others. A young woman, a middle aged man, a teen in his own age and then a wolf. All of them had been unconscious as Enterprise went to investigate a strange phenom on a dead planet. Some sort of strange mist was surrounding it and the source was the strange ship.

One day after the odd crew got beamed aboard Jio woke up. He had been calm at first. Calm for one that woke up in a strange place, but then the black part of his hair faded to white and he got violent. Some of the personal had gotten hurt while sedating him and once that had been done he had been transferred to one of the cells on the ship. It had been deemed that it would be the safest for the crew that way.

Waking up at yet another new place it didn't took Jio long to figure out where he had been transported and he could understand why. Better safe then sorry.]

[ modernAU version available upon request. ]

Edited 2013-05-23 00:14 (UTC)

((Either power dynamic possible))

[At first, she didn't understand why Adler had chosen her, of all people. She isn't important, she doesn't count—or so she had thought. And then, after awhile, the why of it stopped mattering. She'd been locked up so long that she started to weary of thinking about leaving, about going back to her life, about being free. The days wore on, cooped up, and then Molly stopped hearing the click of the lock on the door. If it happened at all, every time Irene left, she didn't notice.

She was too busy wishing her captor would come back.

Molly stares at the door of the room where she's kept. She pretends to be occupied with a book, sometimes, but for the moment she's dropped all pretense of caring.]

[There was something deeply satisfying about breaking her pets. Irene Adler had always been able to tell, at a glance, what people liked, and how they'd break, but it was always a pleasure to see it, to see the slump in their shoulders, the shift in their expression, as they realized that they were precisely where they needed to be, precisely where they wanted to be.

And she saw it now in Molly, in the lift of Molly's head, in the way her eyes darted to the door, the way she no longer tested the lock that didn't.

Which is why Irene opens the door now, all cold, imperious impatience, her hair a fall of idly curling locks all the way down her back. Her eyes sweep over Molly, and she nods, gesturing out into the greater part of the house.]

You'll do for the moment. Come along, pet.

[She could hear her coming ahead of time, could tell it was her by the long stride and the neat click of her heels, which means that by the time the door is opened, Molly has scrambled to her feet and is already waiting for instructions. Her whole face lights up in a smile at the sight of her. She's started to think of Irene Adler as her savior, though she can't for the life of her remember what she saved her from.

Molly follows without hesitation, going toward the door with her head lowered respectfully, her hair arranged neatly in a knot behind one ear.]

Yes, Ma'am.

[Irene smiles, the curve of her lips bright red and as sharp as razor wire, as Molly follows, her head bowed. When Molly crosses the threshold of the room in which she'd been held, Irene stops her with a single fingertip to Molly's chin, tipping her face upwards.]

Good girl. Now, I'm sure you'll keep being good, won't you? I'd hate to have to lock you back up.

[There's an almost visible frisson of excitement when she touches Molly, even that small amount of contact, and she stares up into Irene's face with wide, dark bird's eyes. Her lashes flutter, and she shakes her head insistently.]

No! I'll be good, I promise.

[That same smile grows deeper, coloured with approval, and the tip of her nail drags lightly across Molly's skin before falling back to her side. She turns away from Molly then, and continues walking through the clean, open flat.]

Good. The maid is gone for the next few days. If you're as good as I expect, Miss Hooper, I may keep you around.

[Molly exhales slowly, before following, trying to keep up with Irene's longer strides.]

What do you need me to do?

[She must need her, after all, or why would she bring her here?]

[Sadly most likely to be the captive.]

[ ooc; could go for either role. if captive, you might be facing more a reverse stockholm ( lima ) syndrome. au's welcome. ]

[More likely to be the captive.]

[Okay so it was the queen that wanted Rin for some reason that Jeile didn't get. As he didn't got why he had been put in charge of caring for him. In any other case she would leave that to Lei or perhaps Raz, but not him. She wasn't even that fond of him. That might be the reason why he was given the task. To keep him away from causing trouble. Well no matter what reason she had the prince now had to make sure that Rin was feeling well and didn't escape.

Walking into the room the other had been placed in, Jeile tried to think of this as greeting a guest to the castle. A guarded guest, but still a guest.]

Well during the circumstances it would be odd for me to welcome you, but let me at least give you my name. I am Jeile Astale Ei Daemonia Eucharistia, the crown prince of Astele.

Flat | Top-Level Comments Only

Page 1 of 4

The Stockholm Meme

Emiya Kiritsugu | Fate/Zero | OTA

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Hansel | Hansel & Gretel: Witch Hunters | OTA

Will Graham - Red Dragon/Hannibal Lecter series

Alaric Saltzman | The Vampire Diaries

alois trancy, kuroshitsuji II, m/m.

bro!hannah.... 8?

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Agent Mike Banning | Olympus Has Fallen | OTA

Stiles Stilinski | Teen Wolf | OTA

Joan Watson | Elementary

Celes Chere | Final Fantasy VI | OTA

Arkin O'Brien | The Collector Movies | OTA

Ryan Hardy ❦ The Following

Irene Adler ↠ Sherlock (BBC)

straight-up kidnapping

john, you've been ~bad~.

tony stark // mcu // ota

and then there's this asshole. 1 + 2

it's always this asshole

you're right. he's the mastermind behind it all. he's actually the mandarin.

he only wishes he could

like the deserts wish for rain

desperation IS his strong suit

nah, that's versace

omfg you fucking fuck

http://i.imgur.com/NydMSEK.gif

http://media.tumblr.com/tumblr_mdjtbmkjx61rp7g3w.gif

http://i.imgur.com/zNIRr9m.gif

Joe Carroll | The Following

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jim kirk | star trek reboot | ota

I rolled a 6

mirror it is.

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5

going with normal.

Re: going with normal.

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normal verse

hehe we shall have our mirror U....ONE DAY

oooone dayyy

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8

sansa stark ❈ a song of ice and fire

Irene Adler || BBC Sherlock

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Re: 1

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