A Picture is Worth... Meme.

[yohko]

A Picture is Worth.... Meme
This ain't your mama's meme. Forget your RNG, forget your tired old prompts.
A picture is worth a thousand words.
It's easy. Comment with your character. Then go comment around.
But instead of pre-filled prompts with words or numbers, you find a gif or image (any gif/image from any canon or scenario you please) that sets the scene.
The picture is the prompt.

WARNING: THIS POST WILL BE IMAGE HEAVY. AND POSSIBLY NSFW AND THERE MAY BE TRIGGERS.
Some images will not be able to be hidden behind cuts, so please be aware that triggery material may be found within.

If you post an image that is violent or sexual in nature please LINK it, do not embed it into the comment.
<a href="http://IMAGEURL" _fcksavedurl="http://IMAGEURL">TRIGGER WARNING GOES HERE</a>
Feel free to use this template to stick your image in there.
<img src="IMAGE URL" _fcksavedurl="IMAGE URL"width="400"><br />

Good resources for images/gifs are weheartit or tumblr. For not so safe for work gifs/images go here and here.

Original Meme here.

Comments

[hasard]

[he has--it'd be impressive for anyone without 007's skillset to take the little indications and pinpoint where he's standing in the room. but then q forgets that there's anyone else besides him and bond because the gun is offered in his direction. he sucks in a breath quietly, staring at it the metal and the way it looks so innocent presented like that when he knows full well bond is capable of tearing it down and putting it together before pulling the trigger in a moment's notice.

his fingers barely brush against bond's palm as he takes it into his hands feeling the weight of it there, cold and heavy just like his nerves. ever so slowly he lifts it, pushes the barrel of it against bond's jawline and tilts his face just so that it's correctly facing him (he'd only been a few centimeters tilted the wrong way, that's all.)]

You trust me.

[beworthy]

[ Cold fingers stroke along his warm skin, so that Thor shivers remembering those hands upon him in the bed where he was sown by Loki's seed, a marriage bed in all but name, where he knew soft quiescent joy beneath the icy ardor of winter. Where he would lie, and Loki would come within him, and the long, slow, sweet fucking was as an endless stroking of his lord's cock into the warm yielding depths of him, a joining that would last hours, days, weeks before cool, plentiful seed flooded within him and he knew his own exhausted satiation. How dangerously seductive it had been to dwell in that bed, to wish to dwell in it forever, lost to sleep and dreaming in between the eternity of their joining.

He closes his eyes, breathes out shaken, his cock heavily weighted in Loki's hand, hot and thick between the gentle stroke of cold fingers. His own hands delve into his hair and he draws the long black strands over his wet cheeks, over his lips, strands soft as silk. So much beauty still in the stark creature Loki has become, that he almost cannot bear it: and how easy it would be to vow himself again, to give his life once more into the hands of the prince of winter, to willingly lay body and spirit before him in recompense for the betrayals, the agonies of the past. ]

Surely they will seek you. Often they asked after their father.

[ He speaks murmuring at Loki's temple, and wraps him closer still in his arms. Broad arms, broad strength to hold him near. He shall never let him go again. ]

[treachery]

[ Perhaps he would not take it, were it to be offered so; no gift of body or spirit can ease the eternity of isolation that has frozen and shattered heart-blood once sweet and crimson with love. Perhaps it was folly to see himself as master, and the golden spread of summer's love upon his bed as mastered — for are they not god and god alike, sewn from the fabric of eternity, stitched through with silver and golden thread? Even now, when Loki curls his hand into a cool fist about the heft of Thor's cock, even now he is but a channel, a conduit, meant to carry the warmth of Thor's love within himself. There is no master between them, and thus neither can be mastered.

Loki knows this, beyond the corruption that his jealousy has inflicted. No longer can he call upon the ice and the snow to shackle Thor-king to himself; he had been a fool once to believe himself capable of overwhelming prophecy, but no longer will he descend into the same gaping chasm of complacency. ]

They will not see what you see. Your children, your people — they will look upon you with pity, not pride.

[ His tone a steady murmur, without inflection. His hand works still, his thumb pressing into the tender skin below the crown's ridge, his fingers spread and curled about the heavy heat of the shaft. His thigh rises below the drape of fur and linen, his leg hooking over Thor's, fitting them inextricably together. ]

And yet I do not love you enough to release you from your own folly. [ As he lifts his chin to seek a kiss, the light slants across his face, blanching the last of the color from his face. He looks as if he is wrought from marble, from ivory.

And in the next moment, Loki remembers the heat and the pain of lust. His breath falls from parted lips, soft and sibilant. ]

[beworthy]

[ He has mastered and been mastered in turn. And knowing the both, he knows only that all love, all passion, all cruelty and heartbreak can come only from this shard of winter who rests in his arms, for no matter what they are to one another there is only each other. There is nothing else. That same spirit and body, the great heart which beats within his breast all cry out their hunger for Loki, the pain of their parting, with no hour of peace known to him since he tore himself from his beloved's side. So did Thor learn what love is. It is a shackle, to him, yet he wears this golden chain with sorrowful pride. To have been young and ignorant is the folly of a hundred years ago. He thought himself content, in those indolent years; he had never known what completion was.

So as Loki's fingers work steadily at the swell of his cock, a great tremor comes upon him like the earth shaking underfoot, but he neither urges nor retreats; his hands are tender as they cup Loki's face, as the winter presses near enough for the kiss, his lips parting easily under the spell of it. It is as though he never left Loki's bed. Yet it is all changed, and the weight of grief and betrayal lays between them, with Thor's strong hands and Loki's bitter love to reach between them.

He shifts, pushing the winter to his back, weighing him down from above. Thor kisses and kisses him, tender, thorough, patiently searching his mouth as though to learn anew the cold sweet taste of him. ]

They have seen a king broken and fled from his own palace. [ His voice comes heavy, his lips gently explore the sharp pale features of Loki's face. ] Now they will see him return and sit his throne with the winter in his arms. They will be as one, the summer and winter, they will be woven so tightly that none may part them, so that the snow falls to blanket the fertile fields and the sun warms the mountain peaks to falls of water.

[deskjob]

( He reminds her so much of Q — except older, more self-assured, and with a wider area of interest. )

I don't suppose you've ever met our Quartermaster?

[deskjob]

( luckily, there are no komodo dragons in this room, nor does eve have any interest in acquiring them. )

You don't say. ( a slow smile. )

[deskjob]

( She most likely has been, and if not for M sending her away, she'd still be at it. She loves what she does, and there is a never-ending supply of it. )

Then you had better take care that you don't offend me. ( Said with a slow smile, though it's hidden as she lifts her glass for another sip. )

[treachery]

[ Loki takes each kiss and crafts it anew, his tongue sliding past soft wind-chapped lips to taste again the warmth he had once nearly extinguished.

Master and mastered, mastered and master. The dark instincts within Loki's heart of ice sing to him, calling for the love he had once bound to himself beyond fate's cruelty, beyond even the safety of the summer-king and the babes that grew within his fertile body. He smothers them with sheer force of will, his teeth slotted together in a grimace.

And when Thor rises above him, the sunlight setting each strand of golden hair ablaze, Loki's hands cannot help but reach up to him, and to draw him again down for the comfort of skin against skin. The power of Thor's body comes with no insubstantial weight, and Loki feels like the spread of a butterfly pinned to the sheets below.

A thought oozes from the darkness, taking prominence with insidious strength. ]

And if I should forget myself even in your arms, and again take up my blade of malice? [ His hands shift, cupping Thor's face, stilling the flow of restless kisses. ] Will you have the strength to do what you must?

[fe_male]

[ That was super nice of him, yeah. Like it's not weird at all being sort of marginally complimented by Loki. ]

Is there like some sort of understanding that there won't be stereotypical immediate bad-guy in-fighting right after?

[fe_male]

[ So basically, like Q, but better in every way, right. ]

You only have one? He must be busy.

[deskjob]

( Certainly no more humble. )

Head of the department.

[interiordesign]

[ oh but he does. he doesn't say much, but he says. ]

Mm, and circumstance. These, circumstances, right now - they could be far more entertaining.

[fe_male]

[ who has the time for that sort of thing ]

Haven't met him.

[deskjob]

And let me guess: you'd be more entertained by someone playing headmaster to your naughty schoolboy.

[deskjob]

No, I imagine so. He doesn't like flying.

[interiordesign]

I was thinking lunch, but I'm willing to let my desires be influenced.

[fe_male]

He doesn't know what he's missing.

[deskjob]

I think I'd prefer lunch, Mr Bond.

[deskjob]

It's not that amazing, to be frank.

[interiordesign]

When do you get off?

[deskjob]

I set my own schedule, Mr Bond.

[fe_male]

You're not doing it right.

[deskjob]

Most people do, then, according to you?

[fe_male]

Things wrong? Yeah. After a while you learn to accept it.

[discretionary]

Is that a question?

[ it's almost cold, the way he says it. the same voice he uses for any man or woman that would be a threat, though he knows q is not. still, senseless and presented with a gun it makes his blood flow a little faster, that thing inside his brain switch on and flood him with the need to fight or fuck.

casually, he turns more toward the barrel, so it dug more into his jaw, expression not shifting even the slightest. maybe it's a challenge or maybe he just likes the danger of it, it's not clear. ]

Did you plan this all just for me?