#rxdrighthand

mischiefborderingoninsanity

imbouncingoffthewalls

knowitwasme

lxdyvulcan

There are 10 kinds of people in the world: those who understand binary, and those who don't.

Give me a character and I will answer with a sample of how I would RP them?

       "I'm gonna kill her --"                                                Not really, but sometimes it was tempting. Actually, it would not be the first time; Emma was really good at getting on his nerves and he knew very well that she did it on purpose almost half the time ( and that was putting it lightly ). Though, he wondered if he should be concerned that she had taken the last of the ice-cream; she only really touched it when there was something going on and ice-cream had become a traditional thing to act as some kind of solace--especially since he was so terrible at it.

                                    All dopamine and other psychological facts aside.

        "There better be a good reason why you thought it was a good idea to finish the rest of my ice-cream," Jon all but threatened as he found Emma in her usual spot. Why couldn't he just be direct for once and ask what was wrong upfront? Why did he have to jump through hoops or tip-toe around the fact that he cares about her enough to ask if she was okay? It was so painfully frustrating that he was upset that there wasn't any left for him because he needed it right now.

       Quietly, he settled into his chair, leaning back as far as it can go before reaching out for his pen. Eyes occasionally flickered toward the blonde, waiting for an answer as he toyed with the utensil for a moment. However, the small tap of his pen against his desk ceased, as well as his eyes over the fine print of his paperwork, when she merely answered with a simple, ' cravings. '

                                A part of him became even more aggravated, but a majority of him--though he would deny it otherwise--was relieved that there was nothing going on with her. Sighing, he pinched the bridge of his nose, a light but scornful stare turning to her--one that he knew would not be taken to heart ( which probably made whatever they had between them so easy; they banter a lot but  none of them ever got really upset about it ).

I want to:

[] Cuddle.

[] Kiss.

[] Fuck.

[] Never talk.

[x] Talk more.

[] Be friends.

[] Kill you.

If we kissed:

[x] Lol nope.

[] Fuck me please/let’s take this to the bedroom.

[] Ewww.

[] Dream come true.

[] Kiss you back.

[] Smile and shrug.

[x] Awkward…

We are:

[] More than friends.

[] Enemies.

[] Lovers.

[] Bestfriends.

[] Friends.

[x] Acquaintances. Strangers.

You bring me a flower. I…

[] Throw it away.

[] Stomp on it.

[] Hug you.

[] Kiss you.

[x] Thank you.

[] Take it home and water it.

I wish you would:

[] Fuck me.

[] Kiss me.

[x] Leave me alone. She doesn't appreciate strangers, idk.

[] Notice me/ talk to me.

[] Die.

[] Be my friend.

[] Hug me.

Should you reblog this?:

[] Yes.

[] No.

[] I don’t care.

send me a ✺ for my character's reaction to yours walking into a lamppost

 Send me ‘I want the K’ and I’ll generate a number

12. Chest kiss. 

—[†] ;;  

[ It was an unexpected thing to do, something that she could never have done to anyone besides closer friends, and just as dares, never for anything serious; but granted, this wasn’t serious anything, but his state was serious. ]

"Stay down—" [ The voice was gentle, soothing even, almost like a mothers voice to a child who looked upon that woman as if she was G o d. A slender hand had come to rest upon his bandaged chest, frail fingers coming to push gently against his skin. ]

“If you don’t stay down, the nurses’ll have to tie you to the bed.”

[ She was only joking, but it was hard to tell with the amount of sarcasm in her voice. The teen had eventually leaned down to press a gentle kiss to one of the bandages, stained in a crimson liquid, so bitter to scent and iron to the taste, and then pulled back, glancing to him. ]

006. gentle peck

         There was only a moment of hesitation as golden lashes seemed to flutter quietly, hazel orbs peering up at the man before her. He was not obliged to help her in any way, and he had even made a point by stating so, and yet he did. It was not much help and probably was another dead end--but the fact of the matter was, she owed him. He spent time on her, wasted time on her, even after he said he doesn't do that kind of charity.

                         "Thomas?" Calling out his name, she offered him one of her many half-smiles before she leaned in. The touch was brief, more of a brush than anything, against the corner of his mouth before she pulled back. "Thank you," she muttered, in earnest, as she dug around in her bag and pulled out a written check before she handed it to him.