#pixyla

Early 90s (I should have specified, yeah.  XD;).  1992, if you want to be more specific.  Technological resources are defiantly something to keep in mind, but I also need to capture the US's feeling of false security (that is, pre-9/11).

Well I’ve been tagging it “spoilers” “liveblogging” and “the last of us” cuz I mean I been warning you guys the whole time.  Made a post about it and everything when I first started.  But if none of that works I can add “Bram Liveblogs” if you want.

I've considered it in the past, but it always felt somewhat redundant, seeing as I created THIS blog to be my random faff about blog that could have any content I wanted on it.  Part of it is that I'm frustrated with myself for hesitating about just writing out vent posts.  Like that's what this blog was MADE for, why not just DO it?  -waves hand- it's stupid, I know.

<3 Go get a cup of tea or cocoa and take a breath and remember—a lot of folks really look up to you and your art. I know I do. You have fantastic gestures, and your style is fabulous. We all think our stuff is butts from time to time. <3

;A; Laaaaaaaa you're the best 

Adeline glares coldly at the other woman, he smile frozen in place. She calls over her shoulder to Rat without turning her head.

Adeline’s eyes narrow as she straightens her back. 

“A letter would have done the job well enough if he’d wanted to see me.” She starts lazily down the stairs, keeping her gaze steadily trained on Eglantine, and stops on the last step to fold her arms across her chest. “Did he want to see me?” 

“Or,” a grin slowly snakes across her face, ”perhaps you’ve come of your own volition. Surely that must have been a bitter pill to swallow, to have to admit to yourself that he needs what I can offer and you lack.” Adeline steps down onto the pub’s floor with a smirk.

Adeline turns the corner on the upper level in time to catch the question. Her brows draw low over her eyes as she rests her forearms against the railing, leaning over and lacing her fingers in the open air. She watches the woman in silence for a long moment and her eyes flicker to the rifle before settling coldly on Eglantine’s face. Lips purse as she clears her throat.

“Whatever you have to tell me, you may tell me in private.” She glances at the flight of stairs between them and a smirk tugs at the corner of her lips. Brown eyes gleam smugly back at the other woman.