bakerstreet | A Picture is Worth.... Meme

Edited 2012-08-19 19:45 (UTC)

[A storm brews over London. Thunder cracks at Piccadilly Circle and bolts of lightning pop at Big Ben as a swell of heavy rain come down with the ferocity and sound of a stampede of horses. While everyone with a lick of sense and sanity are busy running and ducking from the rain, the Master has neither of those things. Putting on a thick, wool trench coat to keep warm, he also brings along an umbrella, just in case the lightning should die down.

He slips out of his high-rise flat in upper London, determined on finding a proverbial glass to knock down. The trivial, almost monotonous affair of human business and politics bores him to tears. He needs something to keep his mind occupied and head mostly down until his dear friend shows his face again.

Ah, the darling Doctor. You'd think that, with the way the Master's been acting lately, that he's gotten over his little war with him; that perhaps he really has turned over a new leaf because of the events of Christmas of 2009. You're wrong, you're stupid, bye-bye now. Anyways, the Master is walking through the rain now, unaffected by the rain droplets slapping across his sharp cheeks. He merely raises the collar of the coat, looking all mysterious beneath a halo of a street lap before he turns the corner down an alleyway. He's unconcerned about the lurking criminals in the darkness -- if there should be any --; he's got bigger fish to fry.]

[When the Doctor opens the door of his TARDIS to be peppered with rain drops - and that is a very accurate way of putting it - he makes a most dignified sound and quickly shuts it again. He then proceeds to turn the rooms inside-out and upside-down in hunt for something more rain-appropriate, because he's not one to stay in the TARDIS just because of bad weather but he doesn't much feel like getting utterly soaked.

Once he manages to find a raincoat (a yellow one, hah), he wraps himself tightly in it, pulls the hood over his head and slips out of the TARDIS.

There is a familiar pang unlike any other that he hasn't felt for a long time as he marches down the street, one that started as just barely a tickle at the back of his mind until he's passed the crossroad. He stops dead then - it can't be - and backtracks as he leans backwards and peers to the right just in time to see a shape disappear in-between buildings.

He would be truly, truly foolish not to follow, as much as he wants to believe the sense of recognition is nothing whatsoever. The rain has since long seeped through his shoes and his trousers where the coat doesn't cover, but he doesn't notice as he finds himself pretty much running towards the corner and skidding into the alleyway.]

[Stopping for a moment, his nose twitches; it's not the nearby, overflowing rubbish bins that causes it, but the feeling, the sense of another one like him. He smirks and lets out a soft snort before pressing on, more quickly. An alleyway stinking of yesterday's lunch during a storm is not the place for the touching reunion the Master expects.

There's a warehouse a couple of blocks away that he has the keys to. A benefit of mingling with human politicians is the access to all of their playthings, connections, and real estates. Humans are such trusting creatures. With his destination and goal in mind, the Master almost jogs there. The Doctor would follow him; they both always follow each other. Slipping through the door, the he tidies up a bit; placing a trap here, rewiring the lights, y'know, evil stuff.]

[The Doctor is always running.

It can be for a number of reason, most of which he rather enjoys. But in this moment, with that feeling, the running comes with too loud beating of his hearts and his throat almost twisting, feeling clogged, because he doesn't know what to expect and he can't help but being worried. If it is...

Well, of course it is. Who else would it be? He can see the man moving with a goal in mind and that means they both know the other one is there. That answers everything.

He slows to a stop outside the warehouse and wipes at his forehead - water is dripping from his nose despite the hood at this point - licks his lips and swallows before he pushes open the door. Slipping his hand into his pocket, he grips his sonic screwdriver, firmly, because you never know.]

[The Master's hanging back near the office across from where the Doctor's entered, waiting patiently. He's waited for a few years, he's sure he can wait a few more seconds; that's a difference between this regeneration and the previous one; he can wait.

The Master's planning on making his appearance after the Doctor starts to become frustrated. He was always so good on frustrating him; them being in two different bodies shouldn't make a lick of difference there.]

[The silence shouldn't surprise him, and he can't say that it really does either. It definitely doesn't mean that the Master isn't here. It means that he's here, and that he likely hasn't changed all that much, and that's most likely not good.

Once he's closed the door, he pushes his hood down and pulls his sonic screwdriver out to point it at the ceiling. See if he can turn on the lights.]

[And see that the lights don't flicker on; the light controls are deadlocked; he doesn't want to reveal the surprise too early. If the Doctor accomplishes anything, a lone light off in a corner shuts off, enveloping him in a musty darkness. The Master moves to the door, standing along the wall, carefully listening.]

Oh, that is rude!

[So, so rude, mate. He's going to try turning that light back on, because just a little bit of light is better than none.]

[He grins, inching his body into the doorway, though, in the dark, the Doctor probably can't see him.] You still scared of the dark, dear?

[Oh, this is a rather smart spot, because it's a little difficult to tell where the sound is coming from with the way it bounces off the walls. But, at least, that means the Master is still in the room...

He reaches out his arm to scan it with the screwdriver.]

The dark is a very unpleasant place to be sometimes. I do prefer the light.

[The Master does like his acoustics; it's a large part why he specifically chose this place to confront the Doctor in; it's spacious, well-built, and empty. Funny thing, though, because this well-thought out planning may be all for naught; the Master's finding out that he can't hold back the excitement at getting to play with the Doctor again. He edges his way out the door, back resting against the wall.]

I was under the impression that you preferred working in the shadows. That is why you faked your death, is it not?

[There's a very slight pause, because how did the Master know that? But the Doctor isn't going to let it get to him, not any further than being... curious, and he finally, slowly, starts walking across the floor.]

I do admit, I'm not one for being overly flashy and letting everyone know of my poking, but that's got nothing to do with it.

I just never stop running.

[He barks out a laugh, unable to hold it in.] Are you really unlike the man I've known for centuries? Have you changed that much from your former selves?

[The Doctor has always been overly flashy, ever since their Academy days.]

[Another pause. Well.]

All right, I'm lying, you got me. I like attention. But only for a little while. But enough about me; what happened with you?

Oh no, I insist. I must know. What happened with you and that saucy little archaeologist? [Taking the laser screwdriver from his coat pocket and, pointing it over his shoulder, turns the lights on. He take a few steps from the door, stepping out from behind a pillar. The Master smirks, eyes flickering over the Doctor.]

Hello dear.

[He blinks, just a little, against the flood of light and, see, this is why the Master is the flashy one out of them nowadays. Really.

There's something ominous about the way shoes echo when you walk. Not that he's going to stop - not until he's reached the Master.]

Hello. Don't feel like telling me all about how you survived? Or are you not much for that this time around?

[The Master knows he's a diva; that's already been established like a billion years ago. His face is a façade of cool and calmness, his hands stuck in his trousers pockets. He's well aware that the Doctor could attack him at anytime, but he has no worries about this. He has everything under control.]

I do have to admit that recounting stories of my shining brilliance does get a little dull after a while. Especially in the company of monkeys like these humans you're so fond of.

Edited 2012-08-24 23:08 (UTC)

Does it? I never thought so.

[Finally, he slows to a stop in front of the Master and as soon as he does, he leans abruptly forward and squints at his hair.]

You're ginger.

Edited 2012-08-25 07:28 (UTC)

It's nice to see your powers of observation are still astute. You know what else I've got, though? [Taking his forefinger, he runs it along his thick, ginger brow.]

Eyebrows.

You're ginger!

[Who cares about your eyebrow. You are ginger, and the Doctor looks as if that's the greatest scandal he's ever seen because you are ginger and the Doctor just starts pacing because THE FRUSTRATION.

He walks in one direction and wags the screwdriver around, walks in the other and does the same, and then he turns abruptly towards the Master and does the same.]

You're ginger. I've always wanted to be ginger, I've regenerated ten times and I haven't been ginger once, and then you go and regenerate and you're ginger! That's not fair!

Is it?

Edited 2012-08-25 20:59 (UTC)

[He lets out a long-suffering, almost annoyed sigh. The Doctor seems to be more concerned and angry about the colour of his hair rather than the fact that the Master is alive. Clearly this regeneration's priorities are messed up.]

Perhaps you should gain better control of your body when you regenerate. If you want to be ginger so much, choose it.

[Time Lords do have the ability to choose their appearance and personality.]

[You mean this regeneration's priorities are brilliant. Besides, he figures he might as well just not be surprised by the master surviving anymore, since he never seems to die.]

You're talking as if I ever want to die. What person thinks of how the want to look when they're dying?

[There are much more important things to think about (surprisingly), like friends and how much or little he actually wants to go.

He points a finger at the Master.]

Don't answer that.

I do still look better than you.

[Narrowing his eyes down at the Doctor's finger.] Your fretting says otherwise.

My... fretting? Over what?

[ gen or nsfw are all fine! ]

<

[Oh, a lecture. He hates those, and yet, he's not the least upset or offended. In fact, he's actually smiling. Knowing him, it could be because of who's giving it.]

Really? I don't know. I'd say my life is pretty good, all things considered... Is there any reason I should reevaluate things?

[See this look, Edgar? Yeah, that's for you. But she'll still fill up your drink for you all the same because she doesn't lecture people she doesn't actually like a great deal.]

I'm simply saying, it's very hard for any girl to take what you say to them seriously when she knows you've said it to a dozen other girls before.

Mmn. My brother says that all the time. As if he'd know anything about women...

[Your look only serves to make his heart go a-flutter, Tifa. And the drink just helps to ease him up; an eased-up Edgar is a less inhibited and more playful Edgar. Watch out.

And if you must, try not to hit his face, yeah?]

When you say it, it makes perfect sense... I wonder why that is?

[Besides, you know, the obvious. He downs the rest of his drink and trails his finger along the moisture on the counter.]

...hm. But I don't lie when I talk to women, Tifa. Never. I mean what I say to every last one of them...

[He leans in a bit, a weird grin on his face visible just below the redness associated with too much gin and whatever else was in that drink she just made him.]

Why the doubt? Has a man been dishonest with you in the past?

[But Edgar, how can you get sympathy from the ladies if you haven't got a black eye to show them?]

I work in a bar. Men are dishonest with me all the time. Usually only about small, silly things though. Like not having had enough to drink yet.

[She'll also push a bowl of pretzels toward him. He shouldn't drink on an empty stomach.]

It's not doubt. I think you sincerely do like women as a whole. It's just that ~~Incredibles 'when everyone's special no one is' gif~~ when you meet the girl that's right for you, she's not going to think she's any different to you than everyone else. You just might have to find an entirely new way of talking just for her.

[Wounded pride, puppy-dog eyes maybe?]

Hm.

[Ignoring the pretzels for now, he leans back some and folds his arms in a minor challenge, lips curving upwards.]

You make an excellent point, dear Tifa. However, that's assuming I treat the woman I love -- the one that's right for me -- just the same as any other. Which I don't, believe it or not.

[Oh, he wants to wink, but it requires too much effort. With as much as he's drank already, he's not up to it. He'll just muse and smirk instead.]

[Pssh. Puppy dog eyes don't - oh, fine. Okay. Maybe sometimes puppy dog eyes work. Mostly.

Moving on.]

Really? [Tifa will bite. She happens to like Edgar so it was never a lecture that he was a terrible person to start with, more one of the ways she vocalizes when she worries about someone. So she's sincerely curious - and hopeful for both his and hypothetical girl's sake - when she asks:] How's it different?

Interested in filling the position, are we?

[Don't punch him, don't punch him!

Dropping that wince a moment later, he tries to sit up straight and put up appearances that he's not as half-drunk as he really is. Which is pointless, all things considered, so he shrugs and slouches again.]

Well. Aside from her having my undivided love and attention, and my showering her with gifts and tokens of appreciation...

[That does sound like Edgar with any woman on any day ending in -y, but his voice gets a little serious shortly thereafter and he adds--]

...I wouldn't treat anyone else the same way. Minor compliments and smiles, sure, but she would be the only one I'd love.

[Just kidding, just kidding. Hitting people that hit on her isn't a good way to keep a bar open. Besides - she'd have to be taking him seriously. Which she's not. That dry, dry look that's almost enough to sober a man should be indication of that. Almost.

She will keep listening though and while the first part of his answer, yes, doesn't sound all that different from business as usual, it's the second part that has the thoughtful look and the long pause as she mulls it over.]

So it's not a matter of changing so much as... focusing, hm?

[He watches her expression shift from disbelief to mild curiosity. Something just short of a slam dunk for him.]

Precisely.

[And because he cannot help himself...]

Still interested?

[And there - he's getting that look again but after a moment it changes, goes a bit more thoughtful and she'll rest her elbows on the bar top for a moment, voice softer as if she's sharing a secret with him.]

I like you better when you're not flirting, Edgar.

[Straightening back up, she'll add:]

And I think your idea just might work. Once she catches on to the fact you've stopped hitting on everyone else. That might be the part that takes longer than expected.

Is that so? Hm. Then I shall never flirt with you again, Tifa.

[Legendary Mode, tbh. To Edgar, flirting is akin to breathing, but that won't keep him from trying. Especially if she's going to speak to him in such a way.]

I have faith in my love for a woman. She'll see.

[He nibbled on the end of a pretzel stick.]

Soon, hopefully.

Mm.

[She likes believing in people, so she's going to give him the benefit of the doubt on that no more flirting bit. Not that she's going to lay gil on it either though. If her ears could perk though, they would at the last bit.]

Soon? That sounds like there already is someone.

Sadly, no. I'm just being hopeful.

[Oh. Right. He promised not to flirt with her, didn't he?

That included the non-verbal aspects of it, such as the hint of a smile in his eyes, wanting to wink, or the slight suggestion in his smirk.

He underestimated how hard it would be, especially with Tifa around. Hindsight was twenty-twenty, after all.

He was going to need a stronger drink.]

But if I play things right...

[Tifa's only here to help, Edgar. Or make life more difficult. It depends on who you ask.]

Give it time. When you least expect it someone will show up on your doorstep and change everything before you realize it. You won't know what hit you.

[Her faith in that is absolute. Her faith in you is doing pretty good too, Edgar. So far, so good. You're almost pushing two minutes of not flirting. Don't blow it now.] And if you play things right, the bartender might get you another drink. Something with a little paper umbrella?

[She was a strange mix of help and a test of his will. Those two minutes were painful but he was determined, if anything else. He was rather proud of lasting two minutes.

~~Get your mind out of the gutter.~~

Sighing and smiling weakly, he gestured with a hand.]

A blue one, I hope?

[~~she's sure she has no idea what you're talking about~~

She's rather proud of him lasting two minutes - and counting! - so far herself. She'll have him up to Cloud levels of obliviousness in no time. Wait... is that something a girl should be proud of?

Edgar still gets a bright smile, she understands he's busy fighting the good fight.]

Blue is the best color. [And while she's mixing something up, she'll ask] So, this girl that's going to appear in your life one day - what do you hope for? Really, not just flippantly.

{OOC: we've got a storm coming in. Not expecting trouble but I might be offline for a few days so head's up ;)}

[No comment on Cloud. Really. Because he and Edgar are as different as night and day, if that wasn't obvious enough.

Anyway.

The smile she gave him was worth the agony of restraining himself -- it also made things that much more difficult but luckily, he had a drink to look forward to and interesting conversation to entertain.]

Really? Hm...

[Truth be told, Edgar never sat and thought about the ideal woman for him. Truly. It was much easier for him to say any woman would do but in reality, that was not the case. Not at all.

He drummed his fingers on the counter.]

Well. She'd have to be very patient and smart, of course. And strong. Not necessarily physically, although that would be more of a bonus than anything. But strong of character and of will. All the makings of a good queen...

[OOC; Oh, no worries at all. Please be safe!]

[She'd actually asked the question to give him something to think about other than the trail of not flirting - and also because she was genuinely curious. So she listened while she mixed him a drink and hummed a soft sound thoughtfully at the end. Not bad qualities to look for. The drink he gets set in front of him has it's promised blue umbrella - as well as being a jolting neon blue itself. She'll act like that's normal though.]

You want a partner. Someone who can help you and handle the pressure.

(OOC: thanks. will do ;)

Essentially, yes. But I'd rather things be more...intimate than that. So she'd have to be loving and caring and adventurous.

[He left things at that, perhaps purposefully, perhaps not. Either way, he'd no plans to delve further into that particular topic.

Instead, he focused on the drink she gave him. Strange and unusual color -- they certainly didn't make them like that in Figaro, or in any bar he'd ever been to. He eyed the drink almost suspiciously, then squinted at her.]

...is this supposed to be blue?

It's blue?!

[Tifa managed a pretty good impression of alarm for a second before giving in and smiling.] It's called a Slow. Cloud found the recipe. I just haven't found anyone to try it on yet.

[The look said she might or might not just be teasing him before it softened and she nodded.] And there's nothing wrong with wanting a partner, a best friend, and a sweetheart all in one package. You're more than just a king after all.

[Very funny, Tifa. No harm, no foul, though. There was even the ghost of a smirk on his face as he regarded her.]

Apparently. I'm also your guinea pig.

[Slow, eh? Nothing slow about the way he approached it: after a shrug, he tipped his head back and took a hearty gulp of the blue drink.

Once the drink went down the proverbial hatch, he straightened and smacked his lips together, letting the flavor settle on his tongue before it registered, at long last: sweet and refreshing, with a little bite.]

...mmn. Discovering that recipe has to be the second best thing Cloud has done.

(OOC: Now if only we had an excuse to get all the FFers together for drink testing and deep canon discussion ;)

[The slightly smug smile she gives him says he might just be right about the guinea pig comment but she doesn't see him protesting. The smile loses it's smug edge and just goes pleased however once he's had a chance to test it out.]

Well, the recipe wouldn't be any good if he hadn't saved the Planet first to find it on. He's very good about finishing all the steps of a quest. I'll show you how to make it one day. You'll have even more tricks up your sleeve to be the life of the party.

[The drink downed completely moments later, he passed her the glass, quite satiated.]

I'm looking forward to it, Tifa.

[So much for that whole non-flirting thing. Oh well. It was a valiant effort.]

[OOC; Aaah. That would be the best thing. Seriously. Who needs Christmas if something like that can really happen.]

[Edgar wondered if it was simply a matter of too much alcohol consumption or just a devil-may-care, reckless attitude that made Setzer so brazen in the face of certain death. Either way, he was certifiably insane. ~~Like that bird over there.~~]

...it's not in my best interests to say this, but, do you think what you're doing is safe?

[Standing on the very edge of the Falcon's forecastle didn't strike Edgar as safe. No.]

[He shrugs, or does a half-shrug of sorts because what he's doing is really dangerous and he's a little preoccupied. But that's the point.]

Not at all.

If you die, the ship goes down. You're aware of this, I hope?

[Because Edgar had no jurisdiction up there, wherever they were, he couldn't just order the gambler down. So he had to resort to diplomacy. Or something. He didn't want to die.]

Naturally. [Oh my goddesses...that doesn't flow, but this is why he prefers Sabin to Edgar nine times out of ten; at least one of them knew how to take risks and go for daring chances when the opportunity came. He's fun.

...but shit, Edgar reminded him of certain things.] I'm not planning on dying from an airship crash.

[Edgar was the brains of the Figaro Outfit, in case that hadn't been obvious. Sabin was cheerful, brave, and very strong, but was ultimately short-sighted. And that was putting it lightly.

Sabin would forget that, yes, an airship needed a pilot.]

Excellent news. Now, would you kindly take the wheel and navigate us away from certain death?

[...fine.]

What, you didn't want to take a turn at the wheel? [He's coming, he's coming. Whine whine whine, bitch bitch bitch. "I don't wanna die!" ~~my ass~~ ~~Locke~~ ~~my ass~~]

[Get to it, young man. Also, did you forget what happened the last time Edgar took the wheel?]

Ah, perhaps some other time?

[...]

It's probably for the best. Some risks I'm not willing to revisit, believe it or not.

[Derek is sitting down at a small table, outside of an ice cream parlor. His pack suggested that he should loosen up and go out with them, as well as Scott and his friends. But he didn't join them inside to pick out their flavors. The Alpha wolf perked up as he saw the bowl of icecream placed before him.

Sweets were something that Derek never really had time to sit down and have, having dealt with the hunters and the pack for the past few weeks. Nor did he have time to sit down in the first place.

He lifts his head to glance at Stiles, raising both eyebrows questionably.]

What's this for?

[Stiles is holding onto a cone of chocolate chip cookie dough for himself. And he takes the seat across from Derek, looking at Derek like he might be crazy. It's not that far of a reach, really.]

It's ice cream. In a bowl. What do you think it's for?

I didn't want any ice cream, that's why I didn't go in there. [Derek gestures over his shoulder at the parlor with a small jerk of his head, shifting his weight on his elbows, which rested on the table.

Kind gestures were never really a common thing around Derek. Those trust issues of his had him always thinking that these kind gestures were a motive for something else. It was a hard habit to break.]

Edited 2012-08-20 02:33 (UTC)

[He snorts]

Yeah, yeah. You still look like you could use something sweet. [Kind gestures might be a foreign thing to Derek, but it's something that Stiles is used to. Usually it's for Scott, but Derek always seems like he could use something nice in his life.]

Besides, it's summer and a delicious way to cool down. [he'll push the little bowl toward Derek.]

[The werewolf glances back down at the bowl, almost accusingly. Stiles just had to go and waste his money. But he slumps his shoulders, snatching up the spoon and takes a small spoonful of ice cream into his mouth.

Derek swallows the bite and soon... takes another, looking everywhere but at Stiles. Okay maybe you win this time Stiles.]

[It's okay, Derek. It's just ice cream.]

It's good, right? No hidden agenda or anything. Just a sweet cold treat for the summer season. [He'll grin before beginning to devour his own ice-cream.]

[Derek rolls his eyes and takes another bite sourly.]

You're just wasting your money on stupid things.

Don't look so sour. It's ice-cream.

Yeah. That I didn't want. And you just had to go up and buy it.

[And now he feels obligated to eat it. Gosh Stiles. Gosh.]

And now you have to eat it. Oh no, what a horrible turn of events.

[Derek. You are ridiculous.]

[He is. But he does mutter something under his breath as he devours the ice cream, slowly but surely.]

[It's not like he held Derek down at gunpoint. Eating the ice-cream was all on him.

Whatever, Stiles' attention is on his delicious ice cream cone.]

[He glances at him as he eats his cone and takes up another bite. Stiles never explained to him why exactly he got his ice cream for him, but it was... nice. He sits up a little straighter, becoming a little more relaxed in body language.

Quietly, he does finish his small bowl of ice cream and pushes it forward, quietly muttering.]

Thanks. For the ice cream.

Edited 2012-08-20 04:04 (UTC)

[Because sometimes Derek deserves nice things. And well, maybe it's an incredibly small and roundabout gesture of "thank you for protecting my dad".

Not that Stiles'll say that.]

You're welcome. You looked like you needed it.

[Derek chuckles and shakes his head and looks down at himself before giving Stiles a small glance. Running around from the Argents, training his pack, Peter coming back, the kanima situation, and everything else in between... it took a lot out of the Alpha, despite his status. Not entirely physically, but mentally too. He rubs at his face.]

I looked that bad, I needed ice cream? [He asks, slightly curious. It's always different looking at yourself from a different point of view after all.]

Edited 2012-08-20 04:25 (UTC)

[Stiles looks at Derek for a moment. These last four months have basically steam rolled them. Scott got the bite and them a million things happened.]

You always look like you could use ice cream. [Or at least something good to happen. And maybe ice cream didn't make up for anything, but it's still a little nice thing in the hell that's become their lives.]

[Derek shrugs his shoulders and looks over his shoulder, back to the parlor. It wasn't often that he had down time like this. It almost made him antsy, as if he should be preparing for the worst to come. Who knows when danger could rear it's ugly face again in Beacon Hills.

Derek's body language becomes a little more rigid again as he shifts restlessly in his seat.]

...Is your dad doing alright?

[He asks, finally looking back at him after taking in their surroundings.]

[Stiles knows plenty about being constantly on edge, but it's not good for them. For any of them, really. And with Jackson as not a kanima any more, well, there's at least a little something to relax about. But Peter's back, and that definitely doesn't bode well.

But. It's summer and nothing absolutely horrible has happened.

Yet.]

He's great. He's even back to being the Sheriff.

[ no smut pls otherwise ota ]

[Terra just. Stares. Edgar what are you doing.]

[It's a note, Terra. The polite thing would be to respond. :(]

[Okay. Fine. After spending a long time considering her response, she writes something.]

I'm confused. You know I can't do backflips.

So that's a no?

...Were you serious, or were you just teasing me as usual?

Terra, I never tease.

[Not quite like this, anyway.]

[That earns him another flat, unblinking stare.]

That isn't what Locke says.

... I see.

[God damn it, Locke.]

Would you believe him over me?

I...

[~~Yes.~~]

I don't know.

[Wow. RUDE.

Yet, not surprising at all.]

Alas, I suppose it matters not at this point, mm?

What do you mean?

You said no. Not explicitly, of course, but the implication's there.

[He's not hurt. ~~Just another rejection.~~]

[Aw now she feels bad.]

...I never know when you're serious or not. Or how to react.

You confuse me, Edgar.

What innocence?

[You had to have seen that coming.]

[Yeah, he had that coming, didn't he?]

...well, I can't argue that. Especially after the tent in the desert, the bathtub, the chocobo stable, the engine room...

[He counted off his fingers, casually.]

[Ffff]

As if you had innocence before all of that either!

Point there.

[Huhuhuhu.]

A Picture is Worth.... Meme

princess mithian ❧ merlin bbc

Scott McCall | Teen Wolf

the doctor donna | doctor who

the master; doctor who

I pretty much got off my ass to finally make this journal just for you

i am so hard on you ;;

Terribly, terribly hard how dare you :|

i'll play you a song on the world's smallest violin then ;;

O-oh. Oh no, that's touching. ;u;

yeah, i know. i'm too good on you sometime ;3;

Truly. And here I wanted to stay mad. Or annoyed.

oh bb, don't be mad at me :B

Not mad, not mad

right, i'm leaving after this! i can't keep procrastinating.

But procrastinating-- I mean. Okay byeee :c

okay, i can procrastinate and fuck around till tomorrow morning.

Ahaha timezones...

it's four in the afternoon over here; fourteen hours to go. beep boop.

11:30 PM here I'm staying up for you, this time

no, please. go to bed. i'm not worth that!

Hush, you are

oh you're such a charmer <3

I try, I try <33

<3!

Re: <3!

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sorry for the late response, bro :|

S'all good. Life got crazy for a while for me anyway because moving out

irene adler | sherlock

Sakura Matou ☮Fate Stay Night☮ ota

Edgar Roni Figaro | Final Fantasy VI

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sorry for the delay - Monday happened

No worries!

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That is the most awesome link ever. /saves

lol - isn't it?! My Cloud actually did find that and pass it along.

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#69, as you randomly decided.

It's rather fitting, actually.

You're good at picking numbers.

For the wrong things, though. :(

Milage varies!

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I'm sorry

No you're not.

Richter Belmont | Castlevania

Ben Wyatt | Parks and Recreation

Jackson Whittemore | Teen Wolf

Justin Taylor | Queer as Folk

Derek Hale | Teen Wolf

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