#and their best friends (polycule

[elfboypussy]

i love my durge and shadowheart so much

[chipchopclipclop]

paying my ichinan dues after four years

[orindis]

and pt. 2 of my little Zoluna timeline thingy. Probably 2/3 parts, I wanna get on with the other timelines.

[lukazade]

I had wanted to draw everyone, but thanks to the laryngitis I did NOT have the energy to draw for a while, so core four it is!

[devondespresso]

This Comfort

T | 4.5k words | Stobissy (Platonic stobin x Chrissy) | canon divergent season 4 rewrite, pre-relationship, hurt/comfort, happy ending, weird-as-shit stobin | cws: referenced eating disorder, implied depression, implied suicidal ideation, referenced drugs

happy holidays @stellarspecter !!! hows it feel to be THE reason i like this rarepair so much that i had to hold myself back from trying to do a whole chrissy lives s4 rewrite? I tried to be subtle but i also just HAD to reread your stuff while brainstorming this, hope you like it!!! 💕💕💕

<< dividers by @/saradika-graphics >>

Chrissy kind of wants to cry. 

Her body always seems to want to do that at the first hint of peace she can find. In a bathroom stall, at the rotting picnic table behind the school, and now in the basement at Nancy Wheeler’s house, surrounded by still, sleeping bodies. She can’t help but find their presence soothing, even if their warmth doesn’t reach the cold vinyl of her sleeping bag, even if the gentle rhythm of their breathing can’t be heard over the sound of Olivia Newton-John’s voice clogging her ears.

Would the song even work if she got sick of hearing it so much? Can any song keep her safe if she keeps associating music with life-or-death?

Chrissy’s supposed to be sleeping, or supposed to be trying, at least. But she can’t hear the huffs, can’t feel any warmth, can’t even smell over the stench of highschool boy’s body spray— so Chrissy doesn’t try to sleep, even if she has a comparatively easy song to fall asleep to. She just watches, still as if she were out like they are, watching those tiny movements in the bodies around her.

Chests rise and fall slowly, languid unlike any other moment from the day. Some people twitch or stir—just barely—as their bodies dream, hopefully of something far removed from everything that’s happening now. It’s only half the room in her line of sight, but something about watching even just a part of the life around her makes it easier to feel the rest of it there.

It’s nice. Really nice, compared to the past twenty-four hours. And for some twisted reason, that makes tears prick at Chrissy’s eyes.

Her song starts again, a rhythmic melody that had made her sway in her seat the first dozen times she listened to it today. A melody that somehow—even after literal hours of hearing it over and over and over and over and over—still takes her to a time unblemished enough to keep her from letting Vecna end it all.

The beginning instruments all cut off so Olivia can start singing, new instruments coming in to replace them, but they’re not the same. Chrissy swallows, but a tear still falls, tickling her skin down towards her ear before it stops, falling and soaking into the flattened pillow that smells like the same musty body spray as the rest of this cruddy basement.

“Chrissy,” a voice whispers from behind her, said like it isn’t the first time they’ve called, barely audible over her music. Chrissy pushes up slightly, just enough to look behind her, to find Steve sitting up and keeping watch on the couch, leaning towards Chrissy as much as he can with Robin sleeping on his lap. His eyes stay focused on her through the dark, looking maybe for rolled back eyes or waiting for her to start muttering in tongues, but Chrissy only looks back and waits.

“You okay?” he whispers through the dark, again just barely loud enough. Chrissy nods to him, and turns down her music a notch or two.

Steve keeps looking like she never responded. Maybe—hopefully—because it's too dark to see and not because he expects a different answer with enough waiting. Chrissy swallows a lump in her throat, and answers again.

“I'm okay.”

Steve hears her—he has to—but he keeps looking at her that same way. Attentive, and a little on edge.

Chrissy slides one side of her headphones off her ear so she can hear her own whispers.

“I’m fine, I promise.” She says, loud enough that he has to hear her—or believe her—yet still low enough to mask the way her throat tightens around the words.

Steve hums, a soft thing that blends with the sounds of the room, but Chrissy can make it out.

“Come up here.” He whispers, nodding over to the small sliver of couch left next to him, just big enough to fit her. Or, big enough if she were like Robin and could just half-lay on pretty people without feeling electricity seize her body from head to toe. Chrissy opens her mouth to politely decline and save both of them the awkwardness, but Steve picks that moment to look away—look down to Robin—and lift her ever so slightly, ever so gently, to scoot them over and make the space next to him more comfortable.

“You didn’t have to do that.” Chrissy whispers but finds herself getting up anyway, padding over quietly as Steve settles, Robin slumping back down onto his lap without stirring.

“It’s no big deal,” He mutters, a soft smile pulling at his lips, still looking down at Robin, “She sleeps like the dead like this.”

Chrissy hums, and Steve looks up.

“Or– like a baby, I guess is a better word for it right now.”

“It’s fine.” Chrissy insists, taking a seat next to him, settling into the corner with a respectable distance between them– a distance that the rest of her doesn’t seem to pick up on, unfortunately, but respectable at the very least.

Steve hums and watches her, trying to do it subtly out of the corner of his eye, but even just a day around the real Steve is enough for her to know what worry looks like on him.

Fortunately for her, he doesn’t push. And when Chrissy busies herself with getting comfortable in her new couch corner, Steve looks away, absently combing through Robin’s hair as he plays casual.

“Rough sleeping with music always in your ears?” Steve asks, a lightness of humor there that she wishes was the only thing tied to that question.

“Not too bad, actually.” she says, pairing it with a little smile and hoping it’ll convince them both that she’s alright. “Especially out of all the other songs from Grease. The walkman itself is probably more annoying.”

“Yeah, my ears do not envy you there.” Steve huffs, smiling a little, making Chrissy’s smile come a little easier before they both run out of things to say and the levity falls off both their faces. Chrissy’s dropping faster with no eyes on her to keep up the charade for, while Steve’s falls slowly, slips into neutral as he gets caught up in thought once again.

Chrissy gets to keep a few moments to herself before she catches Steve glancing at her again through the corner of her eye. She pretends not to notice, holds her neutrality for a few nauseating seconds before she sighs, closing her eyes and drawing her knees to her chest in a way that turns the subtle glance into full-force attention.

“Do you think…” She starts, but finds the words stopping before they can get out of her head. Does he think she’ll die? Obviously he’s not going to tell her if he does.

“Eh, sometimes.” Steve answers, shrugging lightly in a way that's playful but not flippant enough to derail the conversation.

Chrissy huffs from the tinge of amusement, then tries again.

“Have you wondered what would happen if we got tired of our songs?” 

“Not yet, to be honest. But I figure we’d try to find new ones.” He says, quick enough that it feels like a simple answer to him. But even still he considers it, even if it’s just to show her he’s taking her worries seriously. “I mean, if the whole point is picking a song that reminds you about what’s good in life, I’d figure there’s got to be at least a decent handful of them that’d work.”

Chrissy hums, resting her head onto her knees as she considers. It feels like a simple enough thing, just find songs that remind you of good things, but as she combs through the library in her head, she’s not sure she has as many of those as the others do. Or at the very least, not ones that haven't been sullied by other memories or the things she’s learned since then. Birthday parties with a Chrissy that didn’t think twice about what was in those cakes, sleepovers with girls that had a lot more to say in the halls than they did in their bedrooms. She should count herself lucky that out of all the songs she had loved, she still had one of her favorites.

Though she supposes she should also count herself lucky for even being alive right now. If circumstances were different, she might’ve genuinely felt it.

“To be honest, I’m more worried about how Max doesn’t seem bothered by listening to the same thing nonstop.” Steve chimes in again, that sweet little note of humor back, and though it still makes her smile—truly smile, at both the humor and the intent behind it—it can’t fully lift her out of the headspace she keeps crawling into.

Still Chrissy hums along with him, the sweetness she puts into her voice just as erosive as the added sugars she keeps an eye out for.

“The magic of a really good artist, I guess.”

“Maybe. Though I know I’d still get tired of it no matter who’s voice I’m blasting.” Steve replies, tone light as if he didn’t notice how fake her tone was, and just that thought grants Chrissy an ounce of real levity.

“Even Freddie Mercury.” Chrissy asks with teasing scrutiny.

“I plead the fifth.” Steve smiles mischievously, and when Chrissy raises a suspicious eyebrow at him, he lets out a small but genuine laugh that Chrissy wants to mirror desperately.

Steve hushes himself quickly enough, but Robin still stirs in his lap, groaning and tucking her face down into the denim of Steve’s jeans as if they were somehow comfortable enough to put her back to sleep. But then again, Chrissy figures they don’t have to be, as Steve’s hand finds it’s way back to her hair again, carding his fingers gently and intentionally as Robin stills and soon returns to slow, sedated breathing.

Steve sighs, not tense or aggravated, just restful, like the mood of before was so calm that any change in it counted as disturbance. And then within seconds, he’s back, glancing once over to Chrissy again before looking back at Robin as he continues.

“Rob’s probably the type to be fine listening to most of her music over and over.” He hums, “Not that she needs it. The second she even thought that music might be it she shoved all the tapes she could find into her bag—including our manager’s, actually—”

“Your manager’s?”

“Yeah, Keith’s in for a bit of a surprise soon.” Steve laughs again, “Point is, though,” Steve looks back at her with a new, almost concerning level of sincerity once again veiled as small-talk. “Robin has a pretty good stash of other music in her bag and I’ve got a handful in the glovebox, too, so if you want to pick a couple backups to keep on you…” He shrugs instead of finishing with any extra nod to the favor he’s offering, and Chrissy’s conscience appreciates the discretion.

“Yeah, that’s probably a good idea.” she mutters, figuring at the very least that it wouldn’t hurt to look, maybe pick a couple that’d sound nice, even if she doubts anything from after 79’ would spark any good memories, the thought itself is sweet enough to make her sincerely grateful. “Thank you.”

“‘Course. It’s all up to you, just know it's an option.”

Chrissy hums and nods, not really wanting to continue the conversation but also lacking anything else to start talking about next.

Really, she only gets a few seconds to think about it before Steve’s glancing her way again, eyes lingering to study her and somehow sneaking inside towards the softest parts of her, all right under her nose.

“You’re doing good, y’know?” Steve says, quiet as anything else they’ve said tonight, but Chrissy finds it deafening. “This shit sucks… so much. But your still here, still sticking together, still keeping up with the kids—which, believe me, is a feat in of itself.” He huffs to himself, before glancing back to Chrissy with raw compassion. “I know all of it’s… smothering, almost. Too big and too stressful, but you’re doing great, alright? And we’re gonna make it work out.”

He’s lying, obviously, Chrissy hasn’t done jack-shit and Steve just wants to make her feel better– so Chrissy nods—on reflex, almost—because she knows to take a compliment—to take comfort—when it's being given to her. She knows so she nods and tries to just take Steve’s words with a polite smile and a polite nod but–

Her eyes water and tears fall too fast, too many goddamned tears coming and spillingout and she tries—God, she tries— to keep them back and to smile and show him it worked, shes good now, thank you—but she’s failing, failing miserably, so she falls back on breathing– breathing normally and praying he can’t see her crying through the dark–

“Chrissy, I mean it.” Steve says, with the softness of sincerity that—regardless of whether she believes him or not—breaks through the last of her defenses, letting a small, pitiful sound choke its way out of her throat.

“Chris–”

Chrissy stands—giving up on looking okay in favor of being quiet—and wipes her face, looking around for the bathroom door that Nancy said would be down here.

“Chrissy, hey–” Steve whispers, a hand finding her arm gently—not grabbing, just touching—and while it tempts her so heavily, instinct leads her away.

“It’s fine– don’t wake Robin–” Chrissy chokes on her own words and aborts, going towards the bathroom, ignoring Steve trying to whisper-call after her, ignoring how he whispers to himself before the couch squeaks, ignoring his footsteps coming up until they’re right behind her– and Chrissy stops and flings around and–

Turning catches Steve off guard—enough to stop him a foot or so away—and makes him retract an outstretched arm.

“Chrissy, it’s okay.” Steve insists, struggling for words to say next and doing nothing to keep it from taking over his face. “Look, I’m sorry, I didn’t mean–”

“Stop.” Chrissy says– tries to say, even though it comes out wet and weak and crackly– “You’re fine, I promise–”

It doesn’t sound final but it’s all Chrissy can get out—is all that she really needs to. Tears keep coming like she’s a broken faucet and Steve’s still standing there—already knows she’s crying and isn’t going to ignore it—so she just covers her face with her hands, cold fingers cooling unruly flames of embarrassment, and tries catching her breath.

“Wha’s…?” 

Chrissy doesn’t try to recognise the voice, just jolts up at the new sound and finds Robin up and walking towards them, going slow and rubbing her face like a rough morning.

“Rob, now’s not–”

“Are you crying?” Robin says as she drops her hand and gets a barely decent look at Chrissy, voice sounding suddenly wide awake, face skipping confusion and going straight to concern as she turns to check Steve next, “Are you– no, no you're– ok, good, so–” She turns back to Chrissy within another blink. “Are you okay? Or– no, stupid question.”

“No,” Chrissy says, but then Robin’s eyes flash with guilt, “No, no, I– not stupid question, I’m okay, I promise, I–”

“That’s debatable.” Steve interrupts, as kindly as he probably can.

“I am.” Chrissy says before heaving a massive breath and pushing her hands across her face again, all to get herself in any way capable of explaining, “It’s not your fault– or yours, or anyones! I’m not mad or sad or upset or anything– I’m just crying!” Chrissy pauses for another breath, then finishes—with more control than before— “Just crying. And crying in front of people is embarrassing, so…”

Steve and Robin both stay silent, gears turning trying to figure out what to say or do next, and while Chrissy does feel a little bad, a small part of her says they were asking for it.

“I cry a lot.” Robin says, in what seems like a reflex at first, but she keeps going even after she seems to realize what she’s saying, “I cry all the time, like, constantly– or not actually really that frequently but when I do it’s like an absolute behemoth amount of crying, and I love crying– or well, maybe not– no actually I do, if I need to cry then I love to cry, just get it all out, y’know? And this whole thing—the end-of-the-world monster crisis thing—is like a really good reason to need to cry, the most understandable reason to cry—even Steve's cried about it!” 

“Yes!” Steve confirms immediately, like he either somehow forgot or the detail didn't occur to him.

“And last time– okay I didn't really cry during it much last time because it felt like there was so much going on like all the time but the second we got Steve a hospital room and I could sit down next to him, I started bawling, like really ugly snotty sobbing, and I cried for, like, three hours straight and one of the nurses kept bringing me water so I wouldn't dehydrate and die because I actually could not stop crying and I didn’t even feel that sad, y’know? I had been way more upset in the middle of the whole thing but I didn’t cry once—”

“Just peed your pants a little.” Steve mutters, catching Chrissy off-guard and making Robin fling immediately over to wack his arm.

“You–” Robin says, pointing at him and scrambling for words, “And you shit your pants twenty minutes in!”

“I what?” Steve whisper-laughs, bordering on a dangerous volume again.

“Yeah, you shit yourself and you smelled so bad–” Robin starts breaking into giggles and struggling to keep her volume down, so Steve somehow decides that covering her mouth with his hand would help. It does, kinda, in that it muffles her laughs until she gets them under control and starts swatting him away.

They collect themselves together, clearly trying to keep attuned to Chrissy without directing the full force of attention on her, but as they both try to manage each other’s clumsiness Chrissy feels the pressure of conversation ease and is just left with Robin’s words and the care that both of them were trying to show. Chrissy wipes her face even though new tears still fall, and steels herself with another breath that finally comes easier than the last.

“Robin.” Chrissy says.

Robin stops, and before Chrissy can chicken out she dives forward and takes Robin into a hug.

Robin’s clearly caught off guard but recovers quickly and wraps her arms around Chrissy tight, leaning in with a cheek pressed into her hair, holding her immediately. Chrissy sobs a little for no good reason but Robin doesn’t let go, doesn’t ask again, just keeps holding on.

Instead of waiting ages for her tears to stop, Chrissy just lets go when her crying quiets down and she no longer feels the need to hide from the people holding her. Chrissy loosens her grip and Robin lets go right after, leaning back to check on her, breaking into a sweet, lopsided grin.

Another hand falls carefully onto her back, and when Chrissy turns around and finds Steve still there quietly trying to check in too, Chrissy lunges forward a second time. Steve holds her tight like Robin did– possibly even tighter as his shoulders curl around her frame, like she’s being tucked inside his chest, safe away from harm.

Chrissy kind of hates pulling away, but by the way both Steve and Robin stay close after letting go, Chrissy gets the feeling that it won’t be hard to get more of that affection from them.

“You ready to go back to the couch?” Robin asks.

Chrissy nods.

“Awesome,” Robin says, taking her hand and leading the way back eagerly, “Cause, like, I don’t know about you but I would love to be sleeping right now– and I don’t regret waking up, obviously, totally a good reason to wake up, I just also love getting a full night’s sleep–”

“Aw, poor Robin, not being asleep right now.” Steve teases, getting quieter as they get to the couch but still being loud enough to annoy Robin.

“Aw, poor Stevie, was already awake when things started happening and only had to wake up once in the middle of the night.” Robin whines back, taking a spot in the corner of the couch and pulling Chrissy down to sit with her.

“Yeah, yeah, you’re so funny, Robbie.” Steve smiles, not making a move to sit down with them. “Where’d you put your bag?”

“Why?”

“Wanna look at the tapes you have.”

“Steve, you don’t have to.” Chrissy 

“‘Don’t know what you’re talking about, I just want to listen to– uh… Bowie. Obviously.”

Chrissy huffs, torn between the guilt of a favor and a rush of amusement, but couldn’t help but play along.

“And not your manager’s stellar music taste?”

“Steve!” Robin hissed, “You told her?”

“Yeah, what’s she gonna do? Keith’s gonna know.”

“We don’t know for sure!”

“Yeah we do, his walkman’s basically glued to him.”

“No, it’s not.”

“Not with you cause he likes you, but on a Tuesday close with me and I’d be lucky if he heard me dying.”

“Oh, I think he hears you just fine.” Robin laughs.

Steve sighs with a quick eye-roll before gesturing back to the room.

“Bag. Where?”

“Behind the trunk under the staircase.” 

Steve looks at her incredulously but goes to find it, repeating her interesting choice of hiding place under his breath as he goes.

“Did something happen to your other tape?” Robin asks, turning and hitting her with the full force of her concern—and while Chrissy appreciates it, a lot, she needs to look away to relieve some of the pressure and calm some of the heat that hits her cheeks.

“No, no, it’s working fine, I just, uh… was worried I was going to get sick of listening to it all the time.”

“Oh, that’s good,” Robin nods and the intensity of her worry lessens considerably, replaced instead by an almost frantic kind of ramble, “Good as in, like, y’know, that it’s not broken and you’re just being extra cautious, I mean–”

“Yeah, it’s good.” Chrissy smiles, cherishing the way Robin smiles with relief as she realizes she’s being understood.

Robin’s eyes flick slightly to something behind Chrissy so she turns around, catching Steve as he gives a note to a recently awoken Nancy Wheeler and starts finding his way back to the couch around the minefield of sleeping teenagers on the floor. He stops right in front of the couch—in front of Chrissy—and kneels down to open the bag between them for her to see.

“Let Nance know about the new plan.” He mutters, probably softer than he has to, “If by some chance something does happen, she’ll know to try your old tape first.”

Chrissy looks up at his eyes for a moment before turning them down into the bag, impressively full of cassettes, some loose, some in their cases, but almost all of them well-loved. Chrissy reaches in and starts looking through the ones on top, some obviously Steve’s, some obviously Robin’s, some probably Keith’s, and a good many that have to be for both of them. She searches through them blankly for a few minutes before Steve and Robin try helping with suggestions.

“I think some of The Go-Go’s are in there.”

“Steve had ‘Girls Just Wanna Have Fun’.”

“There’s definitely some Cyndi Lauper.”

“What was your old song again?” Robin asks.

“‘Hopelessly Devoted To You’. From Grease.”

Robin hums and stares into the bag. After a second, she starts picking handfuls of them out, picking each one intentionally but still grabbing more than enough for Chrissy to choose from until one catches her eye.

“Wait, wait, wait–”

Robin freezes, looking back to Chrissy with her arms still shoved in her bag, unmoving. Chrissy reaches over and picks up a tape that had already made it to Robin’s lap: a standard-looking cassette without its case and a couple of attempts at hearts drawn on it. It wasn’t the only cassette to have cute drawings—far from it—but it was the first one she saw with wonky hearts scribbled out then copied right next to it, like someone tried, failed, and then was told to bring their failure back instead of hiding it away.

She checks the other side. “Time After Time” by Cyndi Lauper.

“Steve gave that to me ages ago.” Robin hums, and Chrissy smiles, looking over at the other cassettes with little drawings on them.

“Was it the first one?”

“Second, technically, didn’t draw on Total Eclipse of the Heart until later.”

Chrissy nods, then looks up to Robin again.

“Would you mind…?”

“Oh, yeah, totally. I mean go for it. Worst case scenario: I’m still in touch with my dealer.” Robin jokes, making Steve snort as he stands and drops the bag over by the end of the couch.

Robin gets comfortable as Chrissy goes ahead and switches the tapes in her walkman, going to set her old one on a table nearby. When she turns back around, Robin is laying down on the couch, making grabby hands up towards Steve until he finishes his headcount and turns back around.

“What?” He laughs.

“Get over here, it’s my turn to be big.”

“Hm, if I have to.” Steve laughs and goes to settle with her before pausing and looking back over to Chrissy.

“You want on the couch, too?”

Chrissy goes over towards them and Steve smiles, taking that as her answer.

“We can leave you a spot if you want, or…”

Chrissy flushes but pointedly doesn’t take the offer for the separate spot on the couch, and luckily, Steve and Robin both figure out the answer without her having to say it.

Robin lays on her back half-propped up while Steve basically lays on top of her, spooning but with the little spoon on the verge of crushing the big spoon, but they seem more than content with it, Robin hugging Steve almost like a teddy bear. Steve gives Chrissy the go-ahead, so with her walkman in hand, she carefully takes the spot between him and the back of the couch. She brings the headphones up to her ears just as an arm comes around her back, the new melody fitting the new warmth she’s feeling deep down perfectly.

Chrissy lets one of her hands find Robin’s above her across the polo shirt pillow connecting them. Both the bodies laying with her relax, shifting slightly to get comfortable in their strange arrangement on the cramped couch, but the one thing that stays perfectly consistent is the slow rise and fall beneath her, the feather-light puffs tickling her hair, and the warmth of life enveloping her.

Chrissy knows it’s not perfect. The next few days will be far, far from kind to them. She knows that even when she wakes from this nightmare, she’ll just be stuck right back where she was before, working her ass off at cheer practice during the day and then begging their drug dealer for ketamine at night. The thought will probably never leave her mind.

But right now, Chrissy enjoys the new music playing in her ears, the familiar song with a man and a woman’s voices that feel uniquely alive right now, warm and safe and real.

If you’re lost,

You can look

And you will find me,

Time after time.

If you fall, 

I will catch you.

I’ll be waiting,

Time after time.

Chrissy falls asleep. No dreams, no Vecna, just sleep.

[jeynearrynofthevale]

[reaperlight]

[More murder friends au]

Cletus: Forgive me. I have little experience with friendships. And, uh, no male friends.

Eddie: ...

Cletus: So, like, are we cool now?

Eddie: ...Can we go back to trying to kill each other, please?

Cletus: That was Carnage. You know how these monsters are.

Eddie [clearly thinking of his missing spouse]: They're not monsters!

Cletus: Fine, creatures. In any case I'm pretty sure it was Red's idea.

Eddie: You can't keep putting this on Carnage. That wasn't Carnage. That was you. I know it was you.

Cletus: I like you and we got excited. I swear that's all there is to it. I'm not interested in you that way. I just see you as a friend, Eddie.

Eddie: You kiss all your friends with tongue?

Cletus: ...Yes? Eddie, my only other friends are my lovely wife and this she-devil of a symbiote that's taken up residence in my body. Of course the answer is yes.

[polyamorouspunk]

Me: I can’t believe I don’t have a polycule life is so unfair

Also me: *literally cannot go on a date with my gf without 1-3 other mandatory people being involved*

[unionizedwizard]

the fact i am 90% sure the guy i had a psychosexually charged rivalry slash toxic friends to enemies to lovers to enemies in middle school is either 1) gay or 2) transfem now...............................

[offorestsongs]

"I know it sounds stupid, but... would you teach me how to kiss? You're about the only person I can ask!"

prequel/context for this

[impossibledial]

don’t worry leighton meester. i saw your microexpression.

[artdcnaldson]

Ok I have been flopping ish on writing I think but guys I’m working on a long fic again everyone cheer!

[gregorovitch-adler]

Chocolate

Sherlock and John were sat on their arm chairs, facing each other, with their legs spread out.

John had been asleep for a while, unaware of the real world and his surroundings. It was Sunday, so he just wanted to relax a bit.

It had been ages since either of them had done that.

John woke up with a start at the sound of a sharp knock at the door of 221 B.

John looked around himself. The lights were out, save for the natural sunlight coming from the sitting room window, and apparently Sherlock had been gazing at him from across the coffee table for at least a few minutes.

The sofa was a complete mess with Archie stretched out on it.

John stood up and turned around to face the door of their flat.

Mariana was standing in the doorway, biting her bottom lip with a hand on her waist. "Get your lazy butts downstairs. Both of you."

"Hey, I was tired!" John made his way out of the flat and was heading towards 221 A.

"And I was studying human behaviour at its most vulnerable state!" Sherlock closed the main door behind him as he followed John and Mariana downstairs.

John and Mariana looked at each other and shook their heads slowly as they continued to walk.

"What is it, then, a client? Do we already have another case?" John patted his trousers pockets to look for his microphone.

"No, we don't have a case," said Mariana as she got down to the bottom of the flight of stairs and turned to face Sherlock and John.

Sherlock and John stopped in their tracks right there and looked at her with their eyebrows raised.

Mariana sighed. "I have a surprise for you two. I've been working on it since morning."

John and Sherlock exchanged a look, and John turned to face her with a smile. "A surprise? What for?"

Mariana shrugged. "I just felt like it. Not sure how you'll receive it, though," she said, looking at both of them.

John opened his mouth to try to reassure her, but Sherlock cut him off.

"It's a chocolate cake, isn't it?" Sherlock asked and climbed down to the ground floor too. "It's not just any cake, though. It's very important to you. That's why you tried your hand at it today even though there's no special occasion. You want our comments on it because you want the cake to be perfect. Is it a family recipe?"

"Wait, what?" John and Mariana asked in unison.

John climbed down the rest of the stairs too.

"How do you know that?" asked Mariana with her arms folded across her chest.

"You still have some icing on your hair," Sherlock pointed out. "And I can smell it from 221 A now. You look nervous about it." Sherlock paused and looked at Mariana and John. "Oh, did I just ruin your surprise?" he asked with quite an apologetic tone.

Mariana shook her head and waved it off. "It's alright. Just come over already."

John followed Sherlock and Mariana to 221 A, looking at Sherlock with pride. "Do you ever stop being brilliant?"

Sherlock threw a glance in John's general direction, but then he looked ahead and kept walking, looking flustered.

Mariana opened the door of 221 A, walked in and stepped aside to let John and Sherlock in.

Sherlock, John, and Mariana went straight to the kitchen to see her cake.

Sherlock and John stopped right there at the sight of the kitchen table. A slow smile spread across both of their faces.

They glanced at each other before going over to the table to have a closer look at it.

The base of the cake was rectangular, looking like a sturdy, flat surface. On it, three miniature, human-shaped pieces stood together. Two men and a woman. One of the men was tall and the other one was short - almost the same height as the woman.

It was supposed to be the three of them in chocolate form. They were holding hands.

It was beautiful - not just the miniature versions of the three of them, but also the decoration, icing, and just everything about that cake.

John could not take his eyes off it. Sherlock looked awestruck too.

"Well?" Mariana broke the silence, interlacing the fingers of her hands together and pursing her mouth.

John and Sherlock went around the table and wrapped their arms around her from both of her sides.

Mariana wrapped her arms around them, too, for a long moment.

"It's beautiful," said John and held her tighter.

"It's perfect - and that wasn't even a hyperbole. Just an objective truth. A fact."

Mariana and John let out a laugh.

They let go of each other, and Mariana grabbed a knife that had been lying on the table beside the cake.

"Do you really want to cut that?" asked John, standing behind her now.

Mariana chuckled. "Yes, of course!" She carefully took out the tiny, human-shaped chocolate pieces and placed them on three different plates. She grabbed three forks from a drawer and placed each of those on the plates. "Let's eat each other, shall we?"

She handed the piece shaped like herself to Sherlock, the piece shaped like Sherlock to John, and she picked up the third piece on the plate for herself.

Sherlock took the first bite of the piece of cake on his plate. He closed his eyes in pleasure. "It's so soft and delicious."

Mariana sighed in relief. "It's my father's recipe, but the three pieces on the top were my addition to it." She looked satisfied with herself.

It was John's turn to take a bite.

John closed his eyes to focus on those amazing textures and taste on his tongue. "Mm... Mari, it's unbelievably sweet and fresh. Don't blame me if the entire cake disappears by the morning."

Mariana grinned and took a bite from her own plate and looked away from the two of them. "Hm... this one's not so good," she said in the middle of her chewing.

Sherlock and John looked at her with confusion.

She looked up at John. "Oh, maybe because it's shaped like you."

Sherlock and Mariana burst out laughing.

John stepped forward to pick up the giant plate that contained the rest of the cake. "Alright, that's it. I'm leaving with the whole cake."

Mariana and Sherlock stopped John right there, laughing some more.

The three of them looked at one another with broad smiles. They decided they could not contain themselves anymore, so they put their small plates back on the table.

Sherlock, John, and Mariana came in for a group hug, unable to wipe off their smiles.

John was still planning to steal most of the cake. That part could wait, though.

***

Prompt: Chocolate by @fluff-cember

Tags: @helloliriels @lisbeth-kk @keirgreeneyes @calaisreno @jamielovesjam @gaylilsherlock @totallysilvergirl @peanitbear @topsyturvy-turtely , etc.

[exquisitelyinsanelady]

color gang friendship turned platonic polycule unless that's friendship with extra steps

[multifandombullshitbabes]

(Context: im thinking abt my post canon au, i explained on my ao3, u dont even have to read it just know its there)

Mizu revealing her being a woman to taigen AFTER he confesses his feelings to mizu AFTER being bested during their duel once again is literally so fucking personal to me. Jesus fuck... FUCK. Like. How overwhelmingly loved she must feel. How SEEN. Truly for once n not just but loved and wanted!!! Its so personal to me. Just. Taigen, losing, n then immediately leaning in for a kiss. Mizu is lost cuz what?? Why?? N taigen just. Confesses, but hes holding back cuz mizus reaction was not great and he doesn't wanna ruin the friendship they've formed these past months, they've grown so close so fast n its scary but so exciting n so right but if mizu doesnt want this then nothing is happening n its ok he has a CHOICE. Like. FUCK!! N then mizu telling taigen to wait and that night she reveals it. And its just sooo fucking intimate. Its so soft. And maybe taigen is confused but one look at how small mizu is making herself, like shielding herself from him. Like he gets it. The danger of it all. And its his promise to protect her if she ever needs to that does her in cuz. SHE HAS A CHOICE. TO BE PROTECTED OR NOT. THATS SO IMPORTANT TO HER. Yes, she can protect herself. Yes, it feels good to be protected. Yknow??

Mizu revealing her being a woman to akemi totally by accident AFTER they just had an argument abt women's choices in society AFTER mizu accidentally took one (1) big sip of sake, n then deciding fuck it im gonna win this argument, guess what akemi. And that's how akemi finds out. N Mizu thinks akemi is going to hate her, n she does for a bit in silence, but mostly shes just hurt? For herself AND for Mizu. Cause she understands, so suddenly, so intimately, how hard being a woman is and how mizu has had to hide as a man to survive (not even for plot reasons that we know, mizu being mixed AND a woman? Death sentence). And she just hurts. And they thought they'd always have this weird rift between them but they cry and they let it out (for Mizu, for the first time in YEARS) and its just. Its so emotional n so important and so personal and intimate. Its maybe winter all over again, a year has passed since theyd seen each other in kyoto, so much has changed and yet not rly and. They've grown but in different ways. Akemi, in taking life by the reins n being assertive and strong and so dangerously intelligent like shes always been but now, now its crucial to be that. And Mizu in realizing that she truly, truly wants to be loved so badly but to be loved is to be vulnerable and thats what scares her the most, to be weak; but ure only strong if u can be weak too, and thats what she learns. And i think this is where they really get deep into their feelings. Before it was a crush, an annoying one. Now? Oh bby theyre down bad. Yes they are.

[bookwyrminspiration]

hey Dira I’m reading dracula and all the protagonists are acting like they’re madly in love with each other. it’s great. world’s most gothic polycule.

You would fit in perfectly with everyone who participated in Dracula Daily last year, just so you know. I think every 5th post I saw was about their polycule (an exaggeration but it was an incredibly prolific concept)

I once saw someone say something about how they hadn't realized before, but so much of Dracula (the novel) is about the humanity we see in everyone. How in all the places we visit, all the fleeting characters passing by, they are filled with this active care for the world around them. They worry for a lost dog, they share stories and advice to the younger generation, they fret over the health of someone close to them, they give everything they have in the hope that things will be better for someone else someday.

And I think that's captured in the main character's interactions as well. The kind of outward, eager active attempts to connect with and understand and care for each other in whatever capacity they can is so different from what so many of us have experienced. Because they are all madly in love with each other because they're all madly in love with being alive and seeing people thrive and prosper and be happy. And they all care about each other. And all the background characters care about each other because they all care about the world and want it to be good.

I'm getting away from myself, but the ever present hope and happiness and attempts at connection in this world are, to me, a very crucial part of the novel and something that can get lost in adaptations. I hope you enjoy your experience with the novel, as I certainly did :)