bakerstreet | A Picture is Worth... Meme.

A Picture is Worth... Meme.

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.

Feel free to use this template to stick your image in there.

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

Original Meme here.

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[ the italian countryside is much nicer like this he told her when they rented the motorcycle, and it's true. had their budget allowed it he would have snagged something a bit nicer; a convertible porsche or something similarly comfortable that would let the wind blow through their hair. she asked to drive but he just gave her a look and a witty comment about trust having to be regained before he'd put her life in her hands again. the incident is all water under the bridge for both of them, they're agents and know what the job requires (and truly he blamed M for the bad call), but it's nice to have some shared peril to laugh about like old friends when they're trying to blend.

thankfully the motocycle is quiet enough and the road fairly secluded as they travel down the winding road. recon missions are sometimes a bit more laid back than one might think, and though each of them is equipped to the brim with ammo and weaponry it's nice to feel a little ordinary every now and then. he feels her chin rest on his shoulder but keeps his eyes on the roach as he speaks loud enough for her to hear over the wind. ]

Have you been to Italy before?

[ small talk. not his strong suit but he's trying. ]

( if she were any less confident, any less secure in being a good shot and having done the best that she could, the joke might have gotten old, might have stung a little — as it is, she prefers laughing about it to anything else. it's nice to know he has no hard feelings towards her because of it, too.

though he's still not letting her drive, but that was to be expected. worth a try.

so she's on the back of the bike, leaning into his broad back and one arm around him. it feels like a holiday, at least for the time being, despite the weaponry that they carry, despite the mission. right now, it's just a question of getting from a to b, and the road is winding, the scenery beautiful. )

Not this part of it. ( not shouting over the wind so much as turning her head to speak with her mouth close to his ear. ) Rome, Florence, and I've been to Sicily once.

Love Sicily. Beautiful this time of year.

[ the implication we should go sometime is there should she wish to find it, but with all the wind and easiness of the afternoon perhaps she'll miss it. he's relaxed right now, the rigidity he usually has constantly alert and aware of his surroundings is unnecessary for a little while on this italian road in the countryside. even the weapons on them are only precautionary, the worst-case-scenario response that each of them were trained to have from the get go. in a t-shirt and jeans with a pretty you thing on the back of your bike it's hard to feel anything but a little ordinary. ]

You should reconsider field work. [ he pauses, glancing at her out of the corner of his eye to see the reaction before looking back at the road. ] Unless you prefer only tagging along when M wants tabs on me.

[ he's noticed the pattern of late with her comings and goings on his missions and how they coincide with his less than encouraged judgement calls. but eve has proven to be a more than capable colleague and a welcome alternative to Q and inability to help with just about anything. ]

( he's relaxed and it's a noticeable change — or maybe eve is simply closer to the source right now than usual, feeling his muscles tense and shift and relax in his back as she leans against him, rather than only studying his posture from a (relative) distance. either way, she can't help but enjoy herself, this. his company, too. )

Noticed that, did you? ( of course he did. he may look the part of the brawn, but that doesn't mean that bond isn't smart, far from it, and eve isn't likely to forget. ) Maybe I've just not been given the right incentive.

( to be honest, she is rather happy with her current position. it's officially a deskjob, but like now, there are plenty of times when she gets to go out in the field, no matter what her designation. and working with m directly gives her access to a whole new level of information, it helps her understand what is going on much better than she ever did on the level of a field agent, receiving only orders with hardly any explanation at all.

she prefers knowing, always has.

the implication of his words gets filed away, though she doesn't immediately comment. )

Help.

message attachment:

Happy hour?

I don't run rescue missions.

[ he's amused at the thought of any of the desk workers going out on the town, let alone them convincing anyone for the Q branch to go with them. perhaps it was eve's doing (she can be persuasive) or maybe Q's age makes him less threatening to the others. bond knows exactly where they meet, there being only a few bars within walking distance of HQ, and once his debriefing is complete he takes the time to head that direction. ]

Extreme circumstances. Under duress.

[ Q is miserable. usually he timed his exits perfectly, but tonight he'd been distracted looking over an algorithm written by one of his old professors. the lingering group of programmers had used a combination of peer pressure and guilt to persuade him, and an hour later Q found himself attempting to take arms against a sea of drunken agents and by opposing end their bloody drunken raving.

the text to bond is a last effort to distract his fellows long enough to escape. he wouldn't count bond as a friend so much as an ally, but he knows the man would never turn down a drink and an opportunity to see Q humiliated. he's counting on that smug nature as he watches the front door, nodding to james as his initial scan of the bar brings his gaze to their group. ]

[ bond doesn't respond, deciding to let Q squirm some instead as he approaches the bar and gets a decent enough vantage point to scan the place. he takes off his suit coat off and slings it over his forearm, tie already discarded back at the office and top button undone on his shirt. if you're going to come to a pub you might as well look the part.

he waits a moment or two before heading over, greeting the clearly drunk and jovial group of MI6 paper pushers and computer extraordinaires with appropriate greets and a few handshakes. he's well known enough though not so much on an interpersonal level, and he has a report with a few of the female members. in the office it's all business as usual but here he puts on quite the show. ]

You'll have to excuse us.

[ everyone knows what that means; a high ranking member of the organization being pulled away by another means info being exchanged or a drop being done. little do they know when james leads Q to the bar it's just to get him away from his own pain and social suffering. ]

Scotch on the rocks. [ bond gestures about two fingers worth to the bartender, leaning against the polished wooden counter. ] You know I was told by your subordinate that cell was strictly for business purposes.

[ Q willingly follows, happy enough that bond showed up at all. he's less pleased when bond leads him directly to the place he's been trying to avoid. at least drinks aren't being pushed on him. ]

There's a reason they're subordinates.

[ a smirk in bond's direction as his drink is delivered. Q tries to get the bartender's attention and is summarily ignored. ]

How long do you think before they're too drunk to notice I've left?

Is it the same reason you can't stand going to the pub with them?

[ james flaws down the bartender once again, flashing her a pleasant smile. ]

Water, please, and a vodka for yourself.

[ he slides the water over to Q when she brings it over and hands her more than enough cash to cover the drinks. ]

That lot? Probably before they finish the round.

[ if the photo Q sent was any indication, this particular group does not take their drinking so seriously. ]

[ clever marks and complex missions were one thing, but maintaining an ongoing relationship with an ~~informant~~ associate "freelancer" (a skilled one no less that M constantly reminds him to keep happy lest they require his services in the future) can be tricky work at best. the ones affiliated with some organization or government with physical offices, fiscal codes and conduct regulation is one thing, but those that operate on their own agenda are another entirely. it's entertaining at the very least, worth the connection at the best.

eames (pseudonym or surname, he's yet to figure it out) insists on meeting in ibiza and enjoying a vacation on queen's dime. not that ibiza is the lap of luxury; lazing on beaches and in bars most of the day, eating local fair and meetin the local culture is much easier here than in monaco. but bond cannot complain.

they find themselves in a hot tub with some of that local culture and more champagne than they know what to do with when business is finally mentioned. ]

I'd ask you what precisely you do to get so much free time between slipping me intel, but I'm sure I would shudder at the answer.

[ he jests over his champagne glass before taking a sip. a man that kills for a living really has no room to judge his enterprising fellows. ]

Edited 2012-11-22 07:38 (UTC)

[Eames is careful, more careful than he might seem. He's seen far too many good thieves compromised by decisions involving the secret services, with no intention of becoming one himself. Ibiza was more than simply a vaction spot for him, but a safety zone. Should anything go awry with Mr. Bond, well, enough people in this city owed or trusted him to be willing to assist.

He hopes it won't come to that of course; Eames isn't a man inclined towards violence. Violence is more often than not an unnecessary risk.

Bond has been a consistently good connection, though, and Eames hopes to keep their relationship amicable. And if he's spending the coffers of queen and country, well, that's an added bonus. He leans back against the stones of the tub, cool in comparison to the water.]

It's best to leave it to the imagination.

[His words are accompanied by an amused quirk of his lips and eyebrows that lasts for only a moment, before he takes a sip of his champagne.]

How can I help you today, Mr. Bond?

[ no amount of planning in the world could account for the variables that get thrown your way in the field. no matter; it's half the fun of field work anyway when it doesn't put too much of a damper on the outcome. the gala their mark is hosting has left them in this tussle in formal attire, something james is all too familiar with. as he's taking out the second man (with his own knife no less) he steals a look over the even to see how she's holding up in her dior evening gown, though the gun shot from her beretta confirms it before he can get a good look. perhaps she's not the most experienced partner to have but she's a good shot and just about as capable as they come. ]

I thought I'd have to intervene.

[ his remark is teasing though laced with compliment as he lets the last of the henchmen drop to the ground. not a drop of blood on him, no hits to the face, and not even a scuff on his shoes. he fixes his tie, readjusts and buttons his tuxedo jacket and signals for eve to follow him through the door and up the service stairs.

it's a long climb to the top but the electrical maintenance room is the perfect vantage point of the stage. all they have to do is pick off the speaker as he walks to the front and let the mayhem do the rest. assuming they can get out on the pre-planned route they set it's just a matter of waiting for updates on the extraction point from tanner. simple enough. ]

Your shot, Eve. Make it count.

[ he picks up the sniper rifle case he stowed in the room and hands it to her, moving out of the way to give her access to the window. ]

[There's a run in her stocking. It hadn't been there before the fighting had broken out, but she felt the fabric tear underneath her dress when she kneed a man in the groin. Maybe it's a sign that she's not quite as good at this as the perfectly maintained James Bond, but it's invisible to anyone but her under the fabric of her gown. She only feels it against her fingertips when she slips her gun back into the holster on her thigh, her eyes on 007 with a rebuttal in her lips--]

Maybe if you wanted to get in the way again.

[But there's no time for small-talk, especially not with the fact that she just fired a gun. The sound would echo, their estimated time-frame would be cut in half, and she follows after him quickly on high heels. The instant they're in the room she takes the rifle from him, opening the case and beginning to set it up. It's a step-by-step process that is almost instinct at this point, after years of sniper training for the military and a familiarity for the weight that would press against her shoulder. They have to speed up though, the time is ticking.]

I don't take a shot unless it's going to count, it's good practice.

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A Picture is Worth... Meme.

james bond | 007 | skyfall

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lol this is going to be ridic

clearly my body is ready

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sorry for the horrid delay

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