meme | #002 -- absolute obedience ( do you do you want to )

[the]

the ABSOLUTE OBEDIENCE MEME 1. Post with your character. 2. That character is compelled to follow the orders of anyone who replies. 3. Any orders. 4. Any orders. Meme Strategy: There's nothing in the rules about whether or not your character knows s/he must obey - as well, the other character might not know that s/he must be obeyed. Play it however you like. Don't like the orders you got? Not willing to have your character follow them, even if you've had a good time up to this point? Talk to the other player, use OOC notes or PMs, try and work it out. Got some stuff you'd never want to play out? Consider making a preferences post and linking to it when you reply here. Wanna give orders that people would love to follow? Give em context. Make it a story. Is this about revenge? Working out some personal issues? Too dumb to realize that the other guy has to do whatever your guy says?

meme from memebells@lj.

Comments

Either way will amuse me terribly. *pats Sherlock* He just does not know what to do with this.

[thisismorefun]

[He looks at John,, then looks down at the bread.] Yes, yes I have. [He considers this for a moment, then looks to John.] Tell me something else.

me too. >< I am a horrible mun. John is glaring but amused.

[blogging_mystery]

[ john thinks for a moment. ] Go make some tea.

[sexting]

[ As Oxford sets down the tie so Cambridge steps forward to neatly pick it up again, threading it through his fingers and briefly raising it to brush the silk appreciatively with his lips. Let it never be said that Cambridge doesn't like a good accessory or three. Oxford's tie in hand he retreats to perch neatly on the side of a table and survey the other man with a cool smile. ]

I should explain. Perhaps you remember the time you had me bound rather inappropriately to a lamp post with by a tie? [ Before Oxford can answer he raises his hand and quickly orders: ] Do stay where you are, by the way. Just there. [ Again, he raises the tie and toyingly threads it through his fingers as he watches Oxford's expression. ] You do remember, don't you?

Wretched typists unite! Making the kids hate us seven days a week.

[thisismorefun]

[He promptly gets to his feet, walking one again to the kitchen and putting on the kettle for tea. He doesn't come back into the sitting room until several minutes later when he has a cup of tea in his hands]

...I am honestly not sure what to do with this. [He scowls. for a moment] I need to be certain before i make a conclusion though. Tell me something else. The first thing that comes to mind.

yessss lolol ><

[blogging_mystery]

Set the tea down, do a couple of push ups? [ John was becoming a combination of amused and worried. ] Sherlock... is this one of your experiments?

[trenchcoatedly]

[If Castiel is bluffing, he's doing a pretty good job. On top of looking ticked off and right-as-rain, he also feels like an angel, hot and glowy and nasty. An angel who is probably not convinced by Crowley's faked nonchalance - he knows the crossroads demon who would sell his own skin for an opportunity or his life.

Also, he's pleasantly ignoring his hypocrisy. He's gotten extremely good at this, and it's handy when you need to bring the holy smackdown sometimes.]

I've had enough of your games, Crowley. You seduced me into this plan. I'm starting wonder if your entire point was to free the Leviathans. It was oddly easy to steal the blood.

[romanticism]

[ Oxford's eyes follow Cambridge's fingers as they slip all over his tie, though he is momentarily distracted by the sudden compulsion to stay still, as instructed, despite the fact that his muscles were already prepared to move him forward, to follow Cambridge, to cross the gap and slip right into a state of intimacy. He isn't sure what stops him, and it's clear in the brief cloud of confusion present in his face, though it slips away again as Cambridge continues to speak, and to inappropriately handle his tie. ]

How could I forget? [ A somewhat feline smile appears on his face. ] It was rather an evening, as I recall.

[seesobserves]

Did you have somewhere in mind?

[It's an easily justifiable request. Sherlock does eat, albeit rarely and little, and it's been a while.]

[trenchcoatedly]

I tried to do the right thing!

[The anger takes the angel by surprise, and he is quiet for several moments while he gathers his thoughts back together. Angels don't get angry. It's unbecoming.]

I did what I thought was right. What I needed to do. And I did what I had to do, in the end, but with so many unexpected consequences...Sam, and me, again, and those creatures....I was wrong. I should have been punished. Instead I'm here again, good as new, thinking about the mistake, about how I should have listened - to you, and Rachel, and Balthazar, and instead I went through them. Is this my punishment, Dean? This guilt, eating at me?

[He turns back to Dean, effectively a tightly bundled psychological mess.]

You taught me that when you need to do something - you have to ignore how impossible it seems, how insane and irrational, and your detractors, and--

[He drops off abruptly, staring at his own lap, and sighs. Then he runs a hand through his hair and looks away again.]

[sexting]

Ah, no, I wouldn't look too smug if I were you, dear. I'm about to repay the favour somewhat, you see. [ Cambridge is clearly delighted at being able to mock Oxford in such a way; he holds up the tie, bunched slightly between his fingers, and adds brightly. ] Except I don't even need this...

[ Cambridge sets the tie on the table beside him - pausing only to carefully fold it, he isn't a heathen - before leaning forward with his bare elbows on his knees and his hands clasped. ]

I do believe it's time you took off your shirt. [ So light, so matter-of-fact. ] Slowly, please.

[hunting_trip]

[He'd have thought, in a time like this, his anger would flare up, too, and they'd butt heads like they often did on matters of morals. Instead, there's a deep-rooted understanding that takes him by surprise. He sounds... he sounds like Sam. Cas reminds him of his baby brother so much in that instant, it's really hard to be mad at him.]

Cas... [He sounds tired.] You're like... a billion years old, but there's still an assload for you to learn, man. You can't just... come up with excuses to make wrong look right. That's not how it works. The hardest part about making a decision isn't making the wrong one, either, it's learning to admit you're wrong. Even to yourself. Especially to yourself. When you start hurting the people you care about, I don't care what two ways you look at it, it's wrong.

[He hesitates, then lowers his arm to put his hand on Castiel's shoulder. It's meant to be reassuring. He's never been good at that, but it's worth a shot.]

Look, I've made my fair share of mistakes- and hell yes you're supposed to feel guilty. Hell yes, it's supposed to eat you up inside. That's how you learn. That's how you know whether or not you're a good person- feeling like shit about the mistakes you've made. It's what separates us from demons.

[He turned his eyes away, staring at the wall for a second.]

The bottom line is, you have to ask yourself... 'Would the people I care about be proud of me for what I'm doing'? If the answer's no, well, that's a big indicator.

[romanticism]

Slowly? I'm awfully impressed that you requested that of me of your own volition, my boy. [ Oxford's eyes narrow as his hands obediently reach upwards to undo the first button of his shirt, though the smile doesn't quite fade from his face. He likes a good game from time to time. ] Mind you, I have a feeling there may be some foul play involved here, to be quite honest.

[ There's something strangely thrilling about Cambridge finally exacting his revenge for that - inarguably entertaining - evening, and Oxford supposes it's a good thing that he has very little shame anyway. His eyes don't leave Cambridge's for a moment, watching him as slow, precise fingers do away with the buttons of his shirt. He slips it off his shoulders, before raising expectant brows - what now, my dear? ]

[sexting]

What can I say? I intend to enjoy myself for as long as possible. [ Cambridge's new-found patience probably would not have extended nearly so far had the roles been reversed and it was him performing the impromptu strip tease, that's for sure. He lingers thoughtfully, meeting Oxford's querying gaze the whole time, pondering his options before carefully choosing his next order. ]

Now close your eyes - [ He slips from the tabletop back to his feet, watching the other man until he was satisfied, then taking a few cautious steps closer to quietly retrieve Oxford's shirt and discard it next to his tie. ] - And tell me what you think is about to happen here.

[romanticism]

I've no doubts about that. [ Oxford's voice is a slight purr as he closes his eyes, his intrigue practically palpable. He exhales thoughtfully, giving a little shrug of his well toned shoulders, the movement nothing more than an excuse to draw Cambridge's attention as fully as possible to his body, since Oxford's vanity is being well pandered to here. ]

Let's see. I think that perhaps you will mimic the fateful night with the lamp post, leave me in a state of hopeless and breathless disarray - perhaps take it a step further, introduce an audience, since we are at headquarters, after all - but at the same time, I'm not so sure. You're a creative man, when the mood strikes you. [ He laughs, softly. ] Short answer is that I haven't the slightest clue what you are planning, but I am certain that it will be more than suitable revenge.

[trenchcoatedly]

[Castiel goes stiff when Dean touches him, but he relaxes again, staring at his hands and his lap. he doesn't talk for a while, taking the criticism stoically. If he has any rebuts or defenses, he's not sharing them. Even after Dean finishes talking, Castiel is quiet for a long time.]

You were happy, and peaceful, and... retired. You'd sacrificed so much for this cause... I couldn't ask you for more.

[He meets eyes with Dean and looks away again. For an angel, Castiel sure has an exciting lap.]

No wonder you drink so much.

[thisismorefun]

[He does exactly what he's told, doing only two pushups after setting down the tea I wish it were. I have no idea what this is.

[He settles back into his chair, looking skeptically at John, as if he can break down the situation by staring at him.

It's not working.

Which is annoying.]

Bucky Barns | Marvel

[not_a_commie]

[hunting_trip]

[He tugs his hand away and shrugs, a shrug much too animated, accompanied with a wave of his hand and a noise in the back of his throat.]

Ah, yeah, well. You can't exactly retire from something that's gonna follow you around for the rest of your life. [His voice is light and even, trying and failing to suggest he's over the whole thing.] What can I say? I guess I'm just not the retiring kind.

[That eye-contact avoidance is a real change from the intense stares he used to get. He's not sure which option he prefers. Either way, he quirks his lips into half a grin.]

Something like that, anyway.

[the_new_sexy]

[Doesn't bother moving]

I anticipate that you're going to say it's something dramatically different from a humans', but I doubt it.

[bluesuit_handy]

Oh, for - here, will you just bloody feel it? [And he reaches out and grabs Sherlock's hand, trying to press the back of it it against his own forehead.]

[sorcerous]

A life of lies. Of wrongs.

[ His eyes close. Head bows. ]

Sif, do not press. Please, do not.

[idkmybfftinkerbull]

[The troll jumps a little at the sudden music, and if he wasn't beginning to blush before, the caramel tinge to his skin is certainly starting to show now. Without asking for permission, his hands go to the hem of his black t-shirt, skimming upward along his stomach as they push the fabric up, up, and tug it carefully over his head, stretching the neck ridiculously so it passes first over one horn, and then the other, falling to the floor in a puddle.]

iS THAT,
oKAY,

[brosif]

Or what? [She counts off on her fingers.] You'll try to kill me. You'll die. You'll turn on us all. You'll break your mother's heart. You'll make us mourn you.

Look where we are. What repercussions could possibly be left?

[trenchcoatedly]

[Castiel waits in silence for a few more moments. he looks back up and holds Dean's gaze, trying to figure out what to say or do.}

Dean...

[Then, a rush of wingbeats, and he's gone.]

[itsallfine]

John is getting rather sick of being ignored.

He knows that a week without cases has left Sherlock being frustrated and bored, but he also knows that aside from the fact that that makes him frustrating, it means the man is paying even less attention to John's attempts to get him to take care of himself than usual.

Which is what leads him to finally snapping out a demand as Sherlock sprawls on the couch and ignores his questions about when he last had food. "Sherlock! Eat something!"