bakerstreet | 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.

Flat | Top-Level Comments Only

[The original plan had been to take her out somewhere fancy for a real date — dinner and then to some artsy fartsy cinema that only showed foreign movies without subtitles — but then real life reared its ugly head and Phil had to cancel last minute. International crises tended to do that sort of thing.

That had been four days ago, and tonight was Phil's attempt to make it up to her: candlelit dinner in the safety of his apartment, his DVR cued up and waiting for them to finish pushing their meal around their plates.

(And before you ask, no, Phil did not cook. He can make breakfast, but anything more complicated than eggs and toast is beyond him. He just knows where to go to get fabulous meals to take home.)

His tie hangs loose around his neck, his cuffs rolled up his forearms, and Phil even lets himself lean his elbow on the table as he sips his wine, watching her across the detritus of their meal.] So? What's the verdict?

[ Pepper understood plans being waylaid by work. She'd cancelled more than her share of personal engagements and even just days off because of business. Working for Tony wasn't quite like handling an international crisis, but sometimes it felt comparable.

Needless to say, Pepper wasn't too let down when they had to reschedule. Nor was she at all disappointed by a quiet night as opposed to a more bustling night. She was, however, grateful that neither of their mobiles interrupted (thus far). Setting down her fork, Pepper looked form her plate across the table to Phil, a warm smile coming her face. ]

So far, so good. I think I'll have to wait on any final judgement until the evening's over.

[He shifts, his ankle knocking against hers under the table as he lets out a little huff of a laugh, one eyebrow raising slightly.]

Don't bowl me over with your enthusiasm, now.

[ A little nudge back under the table and Pepper affected a completely placid look. She glanced off to the side, then back with a subtle shrug of her shoulders. ]

There's still a chance either of our phones could ring and drag us off to deal with some emergency. So, it's best to wait until everything goes off without a hitch. So far, I'd say it's been a wonderful evening, Phil, thank you.

[One of the good things about being in the hospital, Phil supposes, is that people tend to fuss over you. Especially if they feel guilty about your reason for being there.

His apartment was leveled when one of those space-worms powered down and crushed his building, which meant that his collection of vintage comics was ruined. But somehow, he's managed to acquire a pretty impressive selection again, as each of his visitors brings a little something with them whenever they stop by. Phil still feels petty enough about the whole thing — Nick dipped his priceless trading cards in his own blood, that bastard — that he hasn't told them to stop.

Today, he's propped up in bed, idly flipping through one of the comics Clint brought by yesterday, waiting until his physical therapy session. It's not for a few hours yet, he has time to kill.]

[Bruce definitely is one of those people that feels guilty for Phil being in the hospital. In fact, he's managed to twist the whole thing into being partially his fault; if he hadn't Hulked out, if he hadn't been susceptible to what the sceptor was putting out, if he'd just left the room and put some space between him and it, there wouldn't have been that chaos. Maybe Thor could have handled his brother instead of the Hulk, maybe everything could have been stopped right then, before all the destruction to the city.

Because sure, they saved the day, but in the end, Bruce stared out at New York in ruins for the second time, and knew that he had done some of that. It didn't feel like victory.

He's not here to feel bad for himself, and he isn't here to feel bad for Phil, either; there's no pity, self or otherwise, because pity doesn't get anyone anywhere. Bruce has had a long six, seven, eight, something years to figure that out, but even before that, too. He's here to fix something, if it's broken, and to rebuild.

He knocks on the door, two taps of his knuckle, before he pokes his head in. He has a bag in his hands, simple and mostly unadorned, but purple ribbon ties the handles shut to make it look more like a gift.]

Hey. Mind if I pay my respects to the resident almost martyr?

[Phil looks up from his comic with a smile, already closing the pages carefully. He gestures for the scientist to come up, smoothing his blanket over his knees and taking a fortifying breath. It's still hard to compensate for missing half a lung these days.]

By all means. I'd like some company that isn't yelling at me to try harder, for a change.

[Phil doesn't actively dislike Gotham, but it would be one hell of a stretch to say that he liked the place. At least his makeshift office has a nice big window to let in the dim light coming from the setting sun, but with big windows comes another set of problems.

And sure enough, it's only been dark about an hour or two before Phil catches sight of a flash of red and yellow out of the corner of his eye.

Sighing softly, he stands and heads over to the window, pushing it open, heedless of the late fall chill.]

You know, [spoken out at nothing in particular — he's pointedly not looking at the gargoyle on the corner of the building,] it's considered rude to eavesdrop.

[Tim wouldn't hold it against the agent if he ever admitted it aloud. It took a special type of person to understand why Gotham natives didn't just move away.

In any case, it was odd for members of the government to show up unexpected in the city, at least someone on the level that Coulson is. When that happens, one of the freaks usually disappears for a while, only to reappear later as part of a government Suicide Squad.

The intel gathered on Coulson suggested he wasn't just some middle management hack in SHIELD, and his own personnel file was surprisingly well-classified. Usually the Big Guy handled dealing with the spooks at this level, but he was out of town for the week, leaving everyone else to pick up the slack.

Which led to his entry into the building. Security cameras were being looped, and electronic security had been disabled courtesy of Oracle when he arrived. For all intents and purposes, they're well and truly alone.]

When your type comes to town, it's rarely a good thing.

A Picture is Worth... Meme.

phil coulson ` mcu

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