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

[This is where Pepper would thank her lucky stars that she isn't that far gone already. That Tony's little impromptu twirl of her didn't leave her reeling. She could easily stand up on her own, it was just ... Warm. A buzzing warm. One that left her more than a little content to move as he pleased, to hold his hand just a little more tightly (when she wasn't twirling, of course), and yes. She had noticed the music shift.]

But Tony. [She's back against him now, swaying just a little, keeping time with the soft, holiday beat in the background, eyes tracing from brown irises to scruff and back again.] We are moving.

[Not that she seems at all interested in moving to get those shots or anything. No, no. Right here is just fine. More than fine.]

[Yeah, twirling is kind of the test of all tests. Still, he's glad that she's not teetering and looking green when he pulls her back into his arms, swaying with her and the music, just letting himself relax, letting all the layers and shields he puts on and up slide off his shoulders.

He doesn't need to be who he is in the face of the public, who he still pretends to be for the media hell, even for Fury and his teammates. He always keeps a mask on, a careful mask to keep things hidden, to be a barrier between him and the rest of the world, something that'll absorb any blows that come his way. Really, only Pepper's able to see him completely relaxed now-a-days, what with Happy thinking of quitting and Rhodey knee deep in the military. She's the only one that sees him without the airs and acts, the only one that gets Tony Stark, raw and unfiltered. Insulting because that's just his nature, because he never thinks about the things he says, just lets them fly out of his mouth. He never means anything by them, never intends to hurt or jab, it's just. Well, it's just Tony.

And Pepper's the only one who picks and chooses and hears what Tony means, not what he actually says.]

What, this? This isn't moving. This is... ninth grade prom dancing. [He quirks an eyebrow] Except there aren't repelling forces between my dick and your playboy playhouse.

[There's a matter of pride that she keeps, just as well hidden, over that very fact. That she knows Tony like no one else does. And while she's never bragged about it, never even mentioned it, she knows. She steeps in it, relax in it, his presence. His self. She loves it. Aggravating as he can sometimes be, null and void.

His eyebrow gets a return quirk with ginger ferocity.]

Ruler's width apart, Mr Stark. [She said as she moved in. In enough that no matter how he tried, he might just never get a finger wedged between their torsos.]

We're both .. responsible adults. We should be able to dance without it leading to .. unruly behaviour.

[He can't help the grin from spreading as Pepper says that, as she says that and just moves closer to him. As he shifts and wraps his arms around her tighter in response.]

Of course, Miss Potts. [He moves forward just a bit, so their noses are brushing, lips just barely making contact as he speaks, as the corner of them lifts again in that cocky little half-smirk he's so good at.] Any other rules for the evening or is that all?

[And oh how his voice can drop in situations like this, until it's just a teasing murmur, his eyes just barely pinched around the corners, laugh lines crinkling his face.]

[If he ever gets those lines botox'd away she might actually kill him.

And how distracting is it, to have such a fine featured face, sculpted lips and darling nose so close to her own, nearly touching, nearly nuzzling. He smells of rum and eggnog and holiday season, with just a touch of aftershave and/or cologne. Enticing might be too subtle a word to use.]

No... touching. Hands stay- here.

[Because explaining is difficult when she's moving his hands to the small of her back; so temptingly close to lower... and yet still marginally proper. Can he manage? Can he?]

[... Yeah see, this is Tony Stark you're talking about, Pepper. Asking him to keep his mind out of the gutter and his hands from wandering lower is like asking a fish not to drink water.

Or something.

Anyways, he's just rolling his eyes and letting his hands settle at the small of her back, fingers drumming absently against the line of her waist, the edge of her pants. At the very least, it means he can keep her pulled up snug against him, chest to chest, hips to hips. Er, kind of. At the very least she isn't wearing heels right now so he's just... an inch shorter than her.]

You are an actual, professional fun ruiner, Virginia Potts.

You know I dislike when you call me that.

[Pfft, only an inch. It isn't that bad. Good enough that she can kiss his nose with more ease than should be allowed, and good enough that it just means her chest is that much closer to the underside of his chin.

And oh, did we say something about a hands rule? Because hers are totally on his ass.]

A Picture is Worth... Meme.

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