open rp post.

[executable]

leave me picture prompts, tags of your own devising, or a blank comment.

but don't say i didn't warn you.

shipping and nc-17 content is fine. i also like action, genre aus, canon compliant and canon divergent things, and pretend tdms. feel free to plurk me if you want to bounce an idea.

there is the chance i will tag slowly.

alternatively:

RANDOM SCENARIO meme

BACKSEAT SMUT meme

PICTURE PROMPT meme

Comments

[trouvaille]

"Scenic," she says, trading him the binoculars for one of the glasses as smooth as you like - she hadn't withdrawn anywhere in the interim but the living space is littered with the various assortment of things to be discarded (hat, gloves, coat, boots, socks, stylish-yet-functional sweater probably not thick enough for someone with less tolerance for the cold), and it'd probably be some kind of symbolism if not for the fact that she is quite tidy, actually, on the whole. She makes a mess; she cleans it up.

Usually, anyway.

The view, as designated by her hand on his elbow once he has the binoculars, is straight in the window of one of the other cabins, ordinarily obscured by trees that had been downed in a storm - not so recent, but trees don't grow back overnight.

No one is doing anything salacious. It'd be disappointing if she'd thought they were going to be, she thinks, but scenic feels like the right word. Some people are just scenery.

[executable]

Tyrell is just as smooth in return, obligingly lifting binoculars to his eyes and allowing himself to be guided, brow pinched. Smooths again when he lands where he's meant to be, the corner of his mouth curling up in amusement he can afford.

Two people, moving out of rhythm with one another. One disappears from the window, the other doesn't follow.

"They're not talking," he observes. "But maybe there's music. "

He lowers the binoculars. "There was a flight from Berlin, where I watched a couple in front of me sit in complete silence. Twelve hours. They didn't sleep, just watched the in-flight entertainment. Left the terminal, holding hands. People are strange."

Says Tyrell Wellick. He offers back the binoculars, picking up the drink he'd set down. "I sympathise, anyway. I can't sleep on planes."

[trouvaille]

She takes them, taps them absently against her thigh - gazing in the direction of what she can't make out without lifting them up, thoughtful, a bit unkind. Maybe there is music. Silence can be very penerating even with it, which is not really an objection when it occurs to her so much as oddly satisfying. It's tempting to make something up, to imagine a more interesting story than is probably the truth - but it's probably easier just to find one somewhere.

"Can't you? I always could. Children are very adaptable." This is an idle repetition of common wisdom more than Ilde being some expert on what children are or do, but probably true enough. You can get used to most things, when you're small enough someone else and their schedule dictates what's your normal.

"People are strangest in motion. Traveling. Everything magnified. Out of the ordinary, where they have to decide things."