#i have no way of making nothing palatable but i am simply nothing. invite me over and ill try to adapt to you and write a new script based

[girlthingdecay]

.

[lifenconcepts]

Traditional simply because it comes a lot more easier to me and I can mess about more :)

Since I was a child? Idk maybe 2016 or 18 I actually tried to make something palatable.

ZERO HAHAHXHXJS unless you count art class in primary or high school. They taught me nothing other than why graffiti is bad or what not.

eeehh no. I rarely do it tbh but when I do it’s probably most likely to be posted here.

Terrible looking men who look like they crawled out the sewers and are all emotionally soggy.

Mmmm anything? Honestly can’t really pinpoint what I hate or like drawing it honestly comes through with a muse.

Never !! XDXD (i definetely should (my anatomy is in shambles))

For fun ;3

LIke… 1 minute.

in my eyes, very!

A couple

Sure absolutely! Go ahead and yet I don’t have anything smart to say about it other than “I wanted to draw a goober, I drew a goober. Circle circle hair”

Eh I don’t really know

Id love to collab! But like, nobody ever invited me to do so.

I only ever do the sketches and a good sketch (as best as it can get with my lack of training) is about half an hour. Anymore and I get all sad that it’s taking so long to look presentable.

Eh about the same

Yes 😜

uhhhh everything apart from the face because that’s where I’m quite good at.

Anything that isn’t the same cookie cutter face plastered on each character. Also straight hair. Also the body? Also good tails. Also in a different style. Also-

Oo it’s a good question but I never really put it much thought. I presume eyes and messy hair since that’s what I can draw consistently, I like drawing it! Also animal paws.

no :(

reehehejdjjdnbxb I uhm.. I don’t know. I hope so! I think I am!!

Yeah honestly it’s just original art cause even when I want to I just can’t really put a character I love on paper all that well.

Eh? I uhm. No clue. I just feel really excited to see other people’s art? Not inspired or jealous or anything. I can go between artist & art consumer pretty easily.

Both? Eh depends on my mood that’s unconnected to the art. If I’m just in general a bit tired or happy then silence but if I’m pissy or apathetic and still want to draw then some music.

Sketchbook! It’s called that, litterally. Also use it to edit photos sometimes and ong it’s better than photoshop and SO much easier. Got tons of free elements and hey, it’s free to download. Lol!

Uhhhh idfk it’s like, whatever I am unconfident at then merge them once I have a good taste for things, but other than that, about 5-15? Just to be able to go back and edit the underside of something. Ugh

P… pen.

By crying and giving up! Obviously xD

Guilt I bare for not being able to express myself in any other way apart from creating.

Artist Asks!

Do you prefer traditional drawing, or digital?

How long have you been drawing?

How many classes have you taken?

Do you have a DeviantArt, personal website, or art blog?

What’s your favorite thing to draw?

What’s your least favorite thing to draw?

How often do you use references?

Do you draw professionally, or just for fun?

How much time do you spend drawing on an average day?

Are you confident about your art?

How many art-related blogs do you follow?

Is it okay for people to ask you about your process?

Do you prefer to keep your art personal, or do you like drawing things for other people?

Do you ever collaborate with others?

How long does an average piece take you to complete?

Do you draw more today than you did in the past, or do you draw less?

Do you think you’re justified in giving other people art advice?

What are you currently trying to improve on?

What is the most difficult thing for you to draw?

What is the easiest thing for you to draw?

Do you like to challenge yourself?

Are you confident that you’re improving steadily?

Do you draw more fanart, or more original art?

Do you feel jealous when you see other people’s art, or inspired? (Be honest!)

Do you like to draw in silence, or with music?

For digital artists: what program(s) do you use?

For digital artists: how many layers does a typical piece require?

For traditional artists: what medium do you like most? (Pencil, charcoals, etc)

For traditional artists: How do you usually start on a big piece? (Light sketch, colored lead, sketchpaper, etc)

What inspires you to not just make art, but to be a better artist?

[thechekhov]

I struggle to embrace the LGBT community because I feel like it steals from the identity I built for myself as an individual. It's not something I see exclusively in young people and I dislike the pressure to be a loud and proud activist just because of some secondary personality trait. I know it sounds bait-y, but even that is revealing about the hypocritical pressure to conform within LGBT. Simply voicing this type criticism feels like an invitation to be attacked.

I think you’re probably expecting some sort of attack for this, which makes me wonder what sort of circles you’ve hung out in that you think this is a realistic possibility. 

First of all, you mention the pressure to be an activist - if there are people in your life pressuring you into things you don’t want to be doing, that isn’t healthy PERIOD. Let’s just get that out of the way. 

If your group of friends or acquaintances are out there telling you ‘you GOTTA come out’ or ‘you HAVE TO go to this march’ or ‘you’re not a real ____ if you don’t ____!’ then that’s Not. A. Good. Friendship. There, I said it. Unfollow those people, drift away from them, etc. 

Now I know for a fact that many people are exactly like you - they wanna live their lives quietly, without letting their sexuality become an overt part of their lives. And I’ll be honest - irl, I lean towards this as well. I am more of less out to my closer coworkers but my sexuality or gender identity almost NEVER comes up. I think the last time it did was when I was sexually harassing a life-sized statue at an afterparty and someone said ‘Of course you would.’ - and that was over a year ago. 

So I’m here to tell you the good news - out in ‘the real world’ - most people who are LGBTQ are NOT ‘pressured to conform within this LGBTQIA paradigm’. Unless you live in San Fran where the chemicals in the water are turning the frogs gay and those frogs are climbing up through your pipes and croaking at you for not fulfilling your Rainbow Colored Clothing Items quota for the year, in MOST PLACES IN THE WORLD, you will probably be spared these  ‘pressures’. 

I mean, old map, but just as a crude example:

And by ‘crude example’ I mean that even within the US, where it’s painted so pleasantly green, there are still societal pressures going THE OTHER WAY - there are still prejudices, there are still straight camps, there are still parents that kick out their kids for being gay. 

If you magically grew up in an area where this was not an issue, and if you did not hear it enough as a kid, or as an adult, I’ll be happy to tell you this:

Your sexuality doesn’t have to be a prominent part of your personality. 

No one with any level of authority ever said it did. 

You can be any part of LGBTQIA and just never remark upon it and live your life in peace. That’s-- honestly the NORM, despite what you may think. MOST LGBTQIA people don’t really have the time, spare change, or energy to be loud and proud activists. Most of us are tired, we have day jobs, we just wanna beat traffic and watch netflix and figure out where that smell in the kitchen is coming from. 

...

But alright, look.... I’m not BLIND. I know that on some platforms, people of all expectations gather and they may very well have very skewed expectations. They may be young and fighty, they have be jaded, they may be loud and proud and encouraging others to follow the same way of living. 

But there’s a reason they act this way. 

Let’s address the most obvious - where does this Very Loud Pride come from? 

Why do people try to make their gender or sexuality such a large part of their identity, and why are they so open about it? What is the purpose of this?

Well, to understand this, you have to first acknowledge that even if you exist mostly on tumblr, where the overwhelming majority of people are LGBTQIA or advocates for alphabet soup rights... the world is not tumblr. 

And this phrase is thrown around a lot by a lot of people I consider to be very crass - “the world isn’t tumblr, you can’t act like this in public” which, surprise surprise - they’re right! But not in the way they think they are. 

The world ISN’T tumblr. 

In the world that isn’t tumblr, from a very young age, you cannot voice your crushes to your friends for fear of being ridiculed or beaten up or shunned. You grow up knowing you have to create a fake identity to blend in, to keep yourself safe. In this world, you must be very careful about pronouns around your family - that every day you control your speech and tailor basic, everyday questions from your parents to be more ‘palatable’. You are constantly being on guard, constantly hiding your phone, obsessively erasing messages, hiding magazines, clearing your chat history for your friends whom your parents don’t approve of. You are getting yanked out of choir class and being threatened to be transferred to a different school, away from your friends, where you would be isolated, because your mother is screaming at you at 3 am in the bathroom that your trusted peers and friends are ‘turning you gay’. In this world that isn’t tumblr, your parents disowning you.

Now step back in time, to the world before tumblr - before social media in general.

In this world we have the AIDS crisis, where, “by the end of 1990, over 307,000 AIDS cases had been officially reported with the actual number estimated to be closer to a million”. The US government is doing nothing because they consider it a ‘gay virus’ and something of a reckoning and ignored the thousands suffering and dying. Your loved ones are dying around you, not knowing why, and knowing that very few people cared because they thought this very slow, painful death was ‘deserved’ somehow. 

Step back further, look at more of this non-tumblr world. Look at the gay and lesbian people denied basic human rights, look at the transgender people being murdered - even in this day and age - and no one batting an eye. Look at every single horrific piece of violent history inflicted on the people who identify as LGBTQIA - and dared do so out loud - and tell me what happens to them as a result.

And tell me - why do you think after hundreds if not thousands of years of being oppressed for even whispering - they are now yelling as hard as they can? 

The world always isn’t going to be the way we like.

But more often than not, we end up owing our progress to the ones who dared yell, who dared to be visible, who risked their lives to be angry about the injustice that was happening.

So have a little respect. 

[mcu-fan-fics-blog]

The Helping Hand

This is a Repost from my Ao3 I wanted to bring it to Tumblr. As I was editing the last chapter I decided to go a different direction than on Ao3. So moving forward the story will be different.

Word Count: 2200 approx

Summary: Y/N Krast Illegitimate Daughter of Tony Stark. Product of an unwanted teen pregnancy. What would Howard Stark be capable of doing to assure his sons future? What will happen when Tony meets our Beautiful, young, genius, rich philanthropist.

Tw: Implied/Referenced Child Abuse, Drug use, Drug addiction, Teen Pregnancy, Slight Stalking. (If there are any I missed please tell me.)

Ch.6

Chapter 7: Time is Running

Ch.8

The pain is unbearable and the bright light just isn't helping. You start to see shadowy figures around you, you close your eyes again trying to focus. You feel cold, then suddenly a hand in your own. You turn to see who it belongs to, you're slightly surprised to see Tony there holding your hand. He stands when he realizes you've woken up. He's saying something but you can't quite put it together.

"What-what happened to me?" Your voice is dry and hoarse. Suddenly Bruce is at your side as well. "Well, that's what we want to know Y/N." You look at them confused. "I-i don't know what this is, but it's happened before…" They both look at you intrigued, prompting you to continue. "When I was little I was really sick in and out of the hospital. Until one day it got very bad, long story short I had heart surgery." Still not getting the point you continue. 

"And I had this dream, it felt exactly like this. My mom was there…" You say to finish your statement. "Your mom?" Tony repeats walking towards you. You simply nod. "What did she tell you… anything important?" He asks rather impatiently. "She's dead… my- my dad he's alive." You say quietly like you didn't want to believe it. Tony and Bruce share a look, but you don't mention it. "I don't know what happened." You sigh again "Did you check my Heart?" Your question seems to knock them out of their daze. 

"No we didn't, your vitals were stable… Um, do you want me to?" You nod. "It's for the best, considering what happened last time." He begins to walk out “Bruce I would appreciate your discretion on the matter. No need to worry the team.” He hesitates but ultimately agrees. You watch him walk out and turn to Tony. “I’m going to ask that you do the same.” He goes to speak but you stop him before he can start. “Tony, please I don't need their pity, and therefore mentioned yours.” He sighs in hindsight he should have told them but he didn’t and you appreciated him for it.

The next couple of hours Bruce spent running tests on you. You knew something was wrong when he decided to re-test for “better images”. Just as he’s about to walk away and run the said test for the third time you stop him. “What’d you find Bruce, be honest with me running the damn test again won’t change the results.” He rubs the bridge of his nose and sighs. “It just doesn’t make scene Y/n, earlier when I ran these tests everything was fine, and now your results are all over the place.” He gives you a worried look. “When Wanda tried to look into your mind she said you were blocked off she couldn’t get through the barrier. I think It was keeping you stable Y/n.” 

“So you’re saying that whatever is happening to me Is keeping me alive?” He nods and builds on his theory. “It’s like a survival instinct it kicks in when you’re in danger.” You scoff and rub your hands together. “More like imminent death, show me my heart scans.” He walks off and hands them to you. “Oh, fuck me. That’s bad isn’t it?” He nods. “The surgery you had did not fix the initial heart issue you had, It actually got worse with time.” 

You close your eyes trying to calm your thoughts. “What does this mean Bruce can we do something?” He sighs “You’re gonna want to talk to Tony about this, Maybe he can do something with the arc reactor. Maybe Vision could help us; he won’t tell anyone.” He adds quickly at the end. “Y/n they need to know about this…” You cut him off  “No, Vision, Tony, and you need to know about this. There isn’t anything the rest of the team can do.” You stand from the examination table and clothe yourself. Bruce didn’t want to look but curiosity took over. “Y/n where’d you get those?” he asks quietly looking at the scars on our back. “Bruce the Foster Care System is fucked.” you say while putting your shirt on. “Do-do you want to find your father?” He asked another question this time you freeze in place. 

“Bruce, thin ice bud.” You say walking away. As soon as you walk out you see the team sitting in the common room. “Steve, Pietro, Nat, Wanda I owe you all an explanation…” When you try to continue Natasha stops you. “Y/n you owe us nothing, when you’re ready to talk we’ll be here waiting.” she says casually. You look around the room and everyone is agreeing which is odd. Something is going on, they know something you don't, you look at Steve, his eyes immediately shift away from yours. “You are all terrible liars.” You state bluntly, them being closed off huddling together after all the “we’re a family, we’ll be here” crap just makes you less inclined to ever open up to them. 

“Vision, Tony and Banner want to talk to you.” You say changing your attention to the synthezoid currently floating in the corner of the room. He simply nods and phases through a wall. You stare blankly at the wall, a ‘that’s new’ leaving your lips. Not minding the rest of the team behind you, you leave them there heading back to the lab. "Right have you gotten Vision onboard." He simply nods. "Y/n I have to ask your heart since when has that been going on." Vision asks and you nod "When I was dropped off at the hospital as a baby I had minor non invasive surgeries, later on I got this bad boy." You point out lifting your shirt to reveal a rather large scar. 

"Y/n would you mind if I accessed your medical files." You ceded "It's fine do what you must. Bruce? Um thanks for all of this... What's your estimate?" You ask quickly he almost didn't catch it. "Y/n you don't need to know that." Your anger rising "The hell I do Banner. Look I don't have my affairs in order. I need you to tell me whether or not I should get started on that. Or I could just ask Vision." He shakes his head. "At the deterioration rate your heart tissues are in I'd say 4,5 months." That takes you by surprise and it takes you a moment to process. You look up at him, your smile faltering, you nod and head out of the lab.

Surprisingly a certain red head was waiting for you outside the lab. You walk up to her "Do you want to go get that dinner you promised?" She's surprised by your sudden invitation, but you don't back down. "I would love to." You nod. She clears her throat "so what's actually going on with you?" She tries to ask casually but ultimately fails. "I won't ask about your little secret and you won't ask about my little episode. Sound good? I just want to enjoy the night." She nods and you both make your way to the elevator. The walk to the restaurant was pleasant. “So tell me Y/n how’d you become the billionaire you are today?” You laugh at her phrasing no one’s ever asked you that. “I wouldn't paint myself in that light but I guess I am a billionaire, but I’m smart.” She scoffs “So, Tony’s also smart, tell me something I don't already know.” 

“Fine, let me think… I had Howard that's how I did all of this I guess if it wasn't for him I would probably be on the streets.” She stops walking. “Another fun fact, that for my 12th birthday he gave me my first Million Euros.” She tilted her head. “Why Euros you may be asking yourself? He said  ‘Y/n anyone can give you money, but I, I got you the best money there is.” Natasha broke out in laughter. “So Howard was rich, that must have been like culture shock.” You nod. “Well It should have been, but when your bestfriend gets a private island for her birthday your expectations change.” You mention casually. “Who is this best friend of yours?” She asks curiously. “Remember when we ‘met’ the coffee place? My friend Jenna owns the place.” 

“What is she doing working at a Coffee shop?” She asks Intrigued. “Well, her family comes from old money. And something that usually comes with old money is strings. So she cut herself off.” Nat shakes her head. “That must’ve been hard.” You nod. “It was but by then I had my own money I could help her out when she really needed it.” You stop abruptly and turn to nat. “I can't believe I almost forgot, there's this place that has the best grilled cheese I’ve ever had!” You basically drag her down the street to the food truck. “Thank God! It's still here.” You exclaim trying to catch your breath. 

“See, I was thinking candlelit, waiters and wine!” She mentions jokingly you give her a playful glare and proceed to order. “You see I’m not the wine and dine type of Girl.” she chuckles “I’m beginning to see that.” You take the first bite and it’s like heaven on earth. “It’s still as good as I remember.” You say in between bites. Natasha can only nod “You know you eat like a child right?” you fain being offended “Nat I’ll have you know I have the most refined palate. You can't tell me It’s not good. ”She hums taking another bite of her grilled cheese. “I never said it was bad Y/n.” She teases. Her eyes met yours and for a moment it felt like it was just you and her. When suddenly the world your eyes have created is brought to an abrupt stop.

“Y/n is that you?” fuck… “It’s me Zack from last night.” How can this keep getting worse. You turn your head towards Zack meeting his gaze. “Yeah, I remember you. My new favorite barista, thanks for helping me out yesterday.” You say plastering on the most artificial smile you could. “You like Doc’s too, I used to come here as a kid with my parents.” Your demeanor falters at the mention of his parents. “Yeah, It's my favorite. It was nice to see you Zack, but we gotta go see you around.” You take hold of Nat's hand and walk away from him. Once you're a safe distance away you let go and finally notice that you're breathing is of the charts. “Sorry that guy just creeps me out.” You say while catching your breath. “You could’ve fooled me. Your favorite barista?”

“Nat? Are you jealous… Cause if you are.” You stop talking when you notice her glaring at you. “He’s not my favorite barista far from it. Who would’ve thought an international spy Jealous.” She scoffs “I think you’re getting ahead of yourself Y/n. We haven't even gone out.” Now it's your turn to laugh “We haven't? Then what is this we’re doing?” The words in Natasha's mouth go away. She's left there opening and closing her mouth. "Right, now how about you pick dessert?" You say changing the subject. She nods "How does Ice cream sound, I know a really good place around here."

"That sounds Perfect." You hum as you start walking. "You know Zack, he's a horrible person. He's not in my good graces I guess is what I'm trying to get at." You mumble. She turns to you with a worried look. "Y/n are you okay? We can go back if you're not feeling well." She states taking hold of your shoulder. "No I'm okay I just wanted to clear the air." She nods and you continue walking. Once you make it to the ice cream shop you order and sit in a both. "So Y/n If you don't like Zack why pretend?" She asks "To put it simply he doesn't remember who I am hence what he did to me." 

"What are you planning to do with this guy then?" She continues down the same road. "Nothing… It's not my priority right now." You say taking another bite of your ice cream. "So Natasha tell me about you. Yes, I know it might be surprising you might have picked up on how I like to make things about me. It's your turn now tell me something I don't know." You say and she chuckles. "I was beginning to think you'd never ask." She teases. "Well I'm Russian. I was trained to be the best assassin there is and I was until Barton recruited me." You nod. 

"See we've already got something in common. You have Clint I had Howard." She laughs at the fact that you completely flew over the International Assassin part. "I would like to do this again some time… of course if you want to too I mean." You go on. "Nat, are you listening to me?" You notice her eyes looking elsewhere. "Y/n he followed us here." You almost drop your ice cream. "He what?" She takes your hand. "Zack creepy guy followed us here. I'm starting to think he does remember you." 

[jackambrosemodeling]

Boy Talk || Jack & Brandon

When: May 2, 2021

Where: Jack’s apartment, Santa Monica, California

Featuring: Brandon Kelly (dialogue provided by Katie @itsbrandonkelly)

Triggers: Allusion to alcoholism

After firing off a You’d better be home. text to Jack, he realised that he really should have checked first to save him from waiting outside their apartment but that’s why there were so many saying about hindsight. Still, he knocked to let his presence be known instead of texting again, hoping he’d timed his visit well.

Jack was coincidentally home when they received Brandon's text. They got out of the shower when they saw the message. After texting him back with a 'bitch I might be', Jack unlocked their door as well as the entrance door to the apartment building. They followed up with a 'door's open' text and went to go find clothes to put on before Brandon came inside.

He huffed out in amusement at the first response he got and then knocked again at the second before letting himself in. “Who leaves their door open? This is the start to every horror film ever, then again just letting yourself into someone’s home is also how they start.” He called out, heading to the kitchen instead of looking for Jack. He figured they would have answered the door if they weren’t occupied with something else and so they’d join him when they were done. When he found glasses, he settled himself on the couch and shrugged off his jacket.

"I do when I know someone's coming over!" they yelled from behind their closed bedroom door. If someone had actually broken into their apartment for nefarious purposes, Jack was more than prepared to deal with the situation. Once they were presentable, they looked around until they found Brandon in the living room. "Comfy there?" they teased. "You know I love seeing you, but a little more of a heads up would've been nice. I could've still been in the shower. I could've been actively having sex!"

“Who’s supposed to be coming over? I can’t believe you were inviting people to chill and I wasn’t one of them?” Brandon had taken out his phone to sit on the couch with him and had even gotten as far as pouring them both a drink before Jack had come to meet him. “Yep. I made myself at home.” He gave Jack his best smile, even fluttering his eyelashes for good measure. “If you loved seeing me that much you would invite me over to do those things with you. Besides, it’s not much of a surprise visit if I tell you about it, is it?”

“You! I opened the door for you, silly!” Jack looked at the two glasses, then back to Brandon. “Oh shit, the wine that Nyle sent as a moving present! I forgot I had that.” They didn’t want to be rude and throw it out, and figured it would be good to have in case of guests, so they hid it. The fact that they managed to not drink any of it themself was a miracle. “Yeah, I’m not sure how Viv would feel about that... speaking of which. Fun update in my life. I’m kind of seeing someone? Still figuring out labels and whatnot.” Though there were rumors floating around the gossip sphere, Brandon was the first person they confirmed the rumor to.

“Then the door wouldn’t be open so it wouldn’t matter if you were showering or fucking, would it?” Jack’s comment had Brandon looking at the bottle again and picking up the glass closest to it. “Mine is alcoholic. I brought you some appley juice recommended by the best palate I know.” He patted the space beside him before his eyebrows raised in surprise. “You settled before you boned me? Disgusting. Unacceptable.” Despite his words, he started grinning. “I’m so happy for you, babe. That’s cute.”

“Brandon, stop making good points,” they huffed, sitting down on the couch next to Brandon. “Oh, thanks.” While Jack had never explicitly told Brandon why they quit drinking, it appeared that he had gotten the hint. “I’m sorry. It turns out I have a SIMP gene that was activated by me moving to Santa Monica. Who would’ve thunk it?” they joked, knowing damn well that they’ve simped over every person they’ve ever dated.

“I can’t help that I’m brilliant. Sorry buddy; you just gotta live with that I’m afraid.” He hummed quietly in amusement. Brandon simply offered them a smile at their thanks. They never joined in whenever B was drinking and he was nothing if not attentive. Sometimes, at least. “Literally no one because the simp gene has always been in you and always been active but I’ll keep that to myself if it really makes you feel better.”

"All my friends are hot and smart, but I'm just hot. Story of my life." Jack sighed, taking a sip of the juice that was so graciously provided to them. "Excuse me?!" Jack exclaimed overdramatically. "Are you calling me a simp? In the comfort of my own apartment?! I don't know what I did to deserve this treatment. I don't know how I'll go on!" They busted into  laughter, unable to keep the act up.

“You’re hot and smart. What the fuck are you talking about? Be nice to my friend or I’ll kick your ass.” He reached his foot out to nudge Jack with, an amused smile on his face. “Plus, you’re also super hot, own it. And yes. I’m calling you a simp. You’re the themperor of simpington. Population... Uh, I don’t know how many people are in Santa Monica but that’s the population.”

“Brandon, I was a straight-C student in high school and have the common sense of a bag of potato chips. I know my strengths and weaknesses.” Jack knew they weren’t book smart and it didn’t bother them. “Excuse me, I am not Themperor Simpington. That title belongs to Sunwoo Seong. Have you met them? But they did skip town a while back... shit. I didn’t ask for this title. I need to find a new non-binary friend to bestow this title on. I just need more enby friends in general.”

“You don’t have the common sense of a bag of potato chips, Jesus Christ Jack.” Brandon laughed as he slapped Jack’s arm. “You’ve survived this long in this industry, babe. That’s not down to potato chip brain, even I nearly crashed out a couple of years in.” He raised an eyebrow, head tilted as he fixed them a look of disapproval. “You are Themperor Simpington. The queen has spoken. I met Sunwoo once and obviously offered to climb that tree but they left and Joonie was sad so I’m no longer a fan of tall, hot and dimpled. If it makes you feel any better, I’m a huge simp for my sweet boy.”

“Hey, I’m funny. Fuck you,” they retorted, chuckling. “I’ve been told that I’m charismatic, and that’s helped me out in the industry. I’m still not that famous though.” While Jack was relatively well-known in queer circles, heterosexual circles were a whole other ballpark. Being friends with Brandon and recently befriending Vanessa did help their social standing though. “Themperor Simpington my butt,” they grumbled. “Wait, when you say ‘my sweet boy,’ do you mean Minjoon or do you have another boo I should know about?”

“Bitch, I been trying to get you to for so long now. I was starting to think you needed glasses.” Bee broke into a laugh before he even finished his sentence, nudging Jack’s arm in his giggling. “Yeah, you have to have a look and you have to be charming to start work in this industry but to survive in it? You have to be smart. About that though, I know I keep promising you a space on my next project and it’s had a few.. speed bumps I guess? Not really speed bumps but personal delays? Either way, I know enough now to be able to tell you that Queen B’s.. that I’m releasing a trial perfume.. fragrance line. Five scents to start, each will have its own colour have theme shots with, each will have its own model to associate with and I want you, if you’re interested?” Their mumbling made Brandon grin, coughing as a terrible fake attempt at covering up the ‘Simp.’ he titled them with again. “Minjoon is my sweet boy. I don’t have another boo, not even a little bit but if you hear simp alarms going off whenever I like the instas of a very beautiful friend of mine then mind ya business.”

"Oh my god. Brandooooon!" Though Jack had quite a few friends with benefits in their days, whenever the thought of doing anything with Brandon crossed their mind, they thought about the bright-eyed, bushy-tailed seventeen-year-old they met all those years ago. Jack's eyes lit up when he started talking about his fragrance line project. "Oh hell yeah I'm interested. Just remember, my favorite colors are purple and pink." They winked at Brandon. Aside from one photoshoot in L.A. that they did after fashion weeks, their work schedule was dryer than a desert. Of course they wouldn't tell him that though. They didn't want to sound desperate. Jack would've taken this job even if they weren't in need of work. "B, you're gonna have to be a little more specific than that. I know you. You don't befriend ugly people."

The laugh that left him this time was more of a giggle and he scrunched his nose up, shaking his head. “I tease but honestly, you’re practically family. Did you know that my parents ask after you? They know as much about you as I do but.. Well, they’re embarrassing. Eh, mom’s okay. Dad’s embarrassing so you’ll probably never meet them but yeah.. They get told about the important people in my life and you’ve been in it longer than Joonie.” Brandon groaned, setting his glass down. “Can’t believe I’m being gross and emotional already. Moving on..” He said, a little louder. “Purple would be fantastic for you. It’s a very royal colour and I’m going to do the obvious and lean into that a little but silk, not velvet. Pink was going to have a sweet-candy-lace vibe to it but if you want pink I can give you pink.” Brandon rolled his eyes, despite the heat he could feel spreading up his neck. “I have a... friend called Kian and he’s... There hasn’t been a word invented yet for how beautiful he is and it’s ridiculous and gross because I don’t lose my mind over pretty boys but he’s.. He makes me blush, Jack. I don’t blush.”

"Brandooooooooon! Stop, you're gonna make me blush. I'd love to meet your parents. Parents love me. Well, actually, I just love milfs and dilfs," Jack cackled at their own dumb joke. "But in all seriousness, let me know when they come to town!" As much as they wanted to meet Mr. and Mrs. Kelly, they didn't want to go to the Kelly home to do so. Jack knew that they shared a home state with Brandon, and didn't want to reenter North Carolina at the risk of running into their family. "Ooh, purple and silk? Now you're speaking my language!" Jack wiggled their eyebrows when Brandon mentioned Kian by name. "A yes, the cute delivery boy. You've mentioned him before. We're Instagram mutuals!"

“Do it! Blush, you coward!” Brandon laughed, leaning against Jack’s arm to nudge them. “Oh my god. I can’t believe I have to say this but if you’re gonna fuck my parents, please don’t date them and wait until I’m out of the room if you’re going to flirt, I don’t need to see that. They really would love to meet you though, they’ve been waiting for permission to come to town.” Brandon grinned at Jack at their approval, giving a small nod. “I’ll get some things drawn up for you. I do have a few already as rough drafts but now I know you’re taking it, I can design something a little more tailored to you.” The warmth spreading across his cheeks and colouring his face a darker shade of pink only grew worse as Jack wiggled their brows at him. “Yeah.. Well.. He’s almost perfect. The only thing I’d change about him is his last name.” His reaction to himself was instant, throwing himself against the cushions to yell out a laugh. “And I keep saying dumb cheesy shit like that! I’m a bumbling mess around him. Like.. Like I start off all smooth and collected and then he smiles and I’m just.. fucking applying to be hired by hallmark. It’s.. It’s so cringe and gross and... I’m happy.”

"Brandon, I'll become your new step-parent and ground you, don't tempt me," Jack joked, cackling. "Well give it to them! Don't deprive me of your loving parents!" Jack didn't have loving parents of their own, so if Brandon's parents were anything like Brandon, Jack was going to latch to them like nobody's business. "Oh my goooooooooooood, that was so coooooorrrrnnnnnyyyyy! Damn, and you call me a simp! I'm not out here reciting poetry on main about my crush. And if you bring up the fact that we have keys to each others' apartments, mind your business." Jack knew they were simping hard over Vivian, but now it was Brandon's turn to be in the hot seat. "So have you considered, you know, talking to him?"

“Their ex girlfriend actually tried that once. Oh my god, it was kind of funny though. You’ll have to treat me better when our guests arrive and do as you’re told or I’ll have you cut off until you learn some damn respect.” He mimicked in a too high voice, rolling his eyes afterwards. “Like.. Honey, I’ve only just noticed you’re not the last guy they were dating and that’s only because you started pterodactyl screeching.” Despite his playful tone, Brandon could feel warmth spreading across his face. “Yeah, okay. I’ll.. I’ll invite them up to meet you.” Having made peace with the fact that he‘d made himself into a product, his parents were off limits when it came to the people in his life, knowing how fickle and superficial a lot of his relationships with people were. It was different with Jack though, Jack really was his friend. “Honestly, I’ve been an absolute mess. I pulled the whole ‘My friends call me B, you can call me any time.’ Thing on him when we met and now I just blush all the time and feel nauseous over butterflies.” He waved his hand quickly at Jack’s news, shaking his head. “NUH uh.. We are not going to just gloss over that? Oh my god? Keys? You’re entering domesticity. Like.. Me and Joonie levels of domesticity and my parents are the founders of the BranJoon wedding fan club. Like.. You’re getting into that territory..” There was a small pause before a smile spread across his face. “I’m happy for you, babe. Honestly. You deserve this.” He couldn’t help but sigh at the question, sinking into his seat a little with a pout on his features and a small shrug. “I’ve been so obvious about it. Short of getting a neon sign to carry around, I don’t know how much more obvious I could be and sometimes it feels like he’s being obvious back? Like.. It feels like it’s not just one sided? And then I start having a gay panic and do something dumb because he’s way out of my league which is a new thing for me. I do want to though. Should I?”

"Hold up, hold up. I said that as a joke. You're telling me that your parents are actually non-monogamous?! And you didn't tell me until now?! I came out as polyam like, 2-3 years ago! And now I'm in a monogamous set-up again. I missed my shot. I'm hurt." Jack put their hands over their chest and sniffled, but almost immediately returned to their usual cheerful demeanor. "I'm kidding, I'm not gonna become your step-daddy, or... I don't know what a gender-neutral equivalent would be besides 'parent,' and that doesn't roll of the tongue as well." This wasn't something they had to think about right away. It wasn't like they were going to wake up tomorrow with a child. "Ah yes, your infamous pick-up line." Jack's face turned pink when Brandon acknowledged the keys. "Okay, I actually do have an explanation! I initially gave her my spare key because I asked her to water my plants when I was away for Fashion Week. Granted, she didn't do a good job and managed to kill both plants, but that's an aside. But yeah, I just never asked for the spare key back." Jack gave Brandon a shoulder pat. They really didn't know Kian, so couldn't tell what the full situation was. "What I've learned from my many years of dating men is that men are dumb and sometimes you literally need to spell things out for them."

“As momma dearest says, monogamy is for the weak. Anyway, they were already in a relationship when you came out. Also? I don’t want to be hooking my parents up with my hotties?” Brandon pulled a face at Jack, nose scrunched up in disapproval. “To be fair though, you and Viv wouldn’t even be the first couple they’ve dated. You’d be the first I’d... somewhat approve of but..” He shrugged before laughing. “Oh my god. There are a couple.. Zaza or zeze instead of dada and mama but given the chance I’d mash up dad and mom and just refer to you as my dom to make everyone in the room uncomfortable.” He shook his head, laughing quietly. “I hate this so much, Jack please.” “I think it’s funny, definitely in my top 3 introductions.” He found himself sitting up straighter when he noticed the blush on Jack’s cheeks, a grin forming on his own features. “Oh my god. She killed your plants and you let her keep your key? Say it with me, babe. Simp. You’re cute though. I’m totally 100% on board with the two of you. She was one of my heroes.” When the conversation turned back to him, Brandon tilted his head as he weighed his options. “Not Kiki but... You’re right, I guess. He’s probably so used to everyone being in love with him that my flirting is just baseline niceties. Okay, yeah. I’ll.. I’ll tell him that I’m crazy about him. Or I’ll just text him that aggressive meme about wanting to hold hands.”

"Aaaaah, your parents are so cool! I wish my parents were cool like that. Mine are just homophobic." There was a lot more to Sofia and Tony Corleone than just that, but very few people knew about them. This was very much intentional. They made a face at 'zaza' and 'zeze.' "Yeah, not really digging those ones... Wait. Dom?!" Jack paused to laugh. "Fucking hell. Yes. That's definitely what my future kids are gonna call me." Jack never brought up the topic of kids to Vivian. They were still very early in their relationship and Jack was afraid they were too old to be a parent. It was still a nice thought though. "Yeah. I got back from Paris and she was having a bad day, so I ordered a pizza and we just... talked. Had a real heart-to-heart. I ended up staying the night, and we've basically had an open-door policy with each other ever since. And then the next day I went back into my apartment and found out about the plants."  Jack grabbed a pillow from the couch and lightly smacked Brandon's arm with it. "I know, I know! I'm a big sappy simpy mush. I'm a Cancer, I don't know what you expect from me." It took Jack a long time to accept their emotional side, but now they openly embraced it. "Or he might not know how to recognize flirting. I've met many people like that. Like the cute DJ at that bar where Minjoon used to work. Or Minjoon himself!”

“My parents have a big bank balance and even bigger hearts. That’s why I don’t approve of a lot of their partners but yeah.. As much as I give them shit for being lame, they’re the coolest. I mean, they’re the only reason I’m even.. y’know... Around.” Brandon let out an unattractive snort and sat forward to retrieve his glass, pouting when he realised it was empty but simply sat back instead of refilling it. “Please, I am begging you, think carefully as to why I’d find calling you my dom funny before you commit to that decision.” He pressed his lips together to fight his laugh before he let out a soft hum. “Do you think that’s where you’re headed with her? Is she someone you can see yourself having kids with?” He asked softly, his whole demeanour changing from playful now that they had ventured into serious topics. “You don’t have to say yes and you don’t have to have an answer right now. Things are still new with you both and y’know... Take it from the adopted, some people don’t want kids and some do.” He shrugged a little.

“Ew. You talked to each other over pizza because one of you had a bad day? That’s disgusting.” When hit with the pillow, Brandon grabbed it to tug it away from Jack so they couldn’t attack him again and he hugged it to his chest, propping his chin on it. “I live for that kind of domesticity.” He sighed wistfully. “You are a big simpy mush and I love that about you. It’s gross and honest and just very sweet. I’m really glad you have someone who makes you feel that way, babe.” Brandon  rolled his eyes and gave the pillow a small squeeze. “Vito really doesn’t recognise flirting? The dude wants to be an actor! With a face like that a lot of his roles are probably going to have it. I wanted to ask if he wanted any help getting into it because he was good to Joonie when they worked together and I always appreciate people taking care of the babie but I also feel like I don’t know him well enough to just give him a shout about a job. Eh. Maybe I’ll get Joonie to text him about this perfume thing and actually see what skills he has. Joonbug doesn’t count for the whole flirting thing though, attraction isn’t really his thing.”

"I gotcha," Jack stated, nodding. They had a similar problem when they first started modeling. They loved to spoil their loved ones-- and still do-- and people often took advantage of their generosity. As Jack grew older, they learned how to weed out the moochers. Of course Brandon was never a moocher; he wasn't the type to take without giving, plus he had plenty of his own money. Jack watched for Brandon's reaction, then chuckled in response to his face. "Babe, I know. I was joking. Could you imagine?!" They shrugged at Brandon's question. "Honestly, I have no idea. I think it's too soon to talk about that kinda stuff. I thought I was never gonna become a parent because Sage didn't want kids, but, you know, they're not my fiancé anymore." Sage not wanting kids wasn't the main reason the engagement was broken off, but it was a bone of contention in the relationship.

"Oh hush. One day you'll have a heart-to-heart over pizza too. Well, maybe not because of the whole gluten thing, but some food that you enjoy." They stuck their tongue out at Brandon. "Ohh, that's his name! At least he didn't recognize me flirting with him. Could just be that he wasn't into me because he's straight, but I'm hot so that's dumb." Jack didn't want to have sex with straight dudes anyways, so they didn't consider it a major loss. "Attraction isn't his thing? Is he asexual or something?" they asked curiously. "Wait a minute, you're deflecting!"

[lilitophidian]

HE HADN'T NEEDED TO CALL FOR HER NOW.

Even if the gesture amused her, she would allow him to do it. Playing along as he offered a sacrifice to Reine de la Lune.

Her blood is plenty to pulse harmoniously. She could feel him, owned him, and branded him with a deeply embedded nail. CLEARLY! SOMEONE WAS Having Mother Issues!

But who was she to turn down a stray who sought her attention in the most positive way possible? Much more palate washing than her loving spouse in wedlock could offer. If you wanted to call it such, sin could not accomplish it in the eyes of God.

Was she particular about the flavor of blood? Perhaps. Perhaps she simply relished seeing people die and being brought to their knees without distinction.

Wrap yourself in the narcissistic characteristic trope. For the time being, there is no reason to move. Oh, if only she knew the funnel, she would tumble down soon enough. The trigger was placed flush against your temple as you blew your brains out, and the message was hidden in the horrific art.

E̸̛̗̜̩̤̖̓͑̔̑̄̒͆̋̏͌̒̊͋̒͝͠v̸̢̡̧̛̥̖̝͉͇̩͖̱̹͎̟̼̜̉̒͗͐̒́̈́̂͗̚͠͝ͅě̵̢̩̱̘̝͈͕̺̫̲͚̞̆͌͌̃͛͆̔̑̾̿̃̏̊̈̎̀̋̅͊̕͠͝ŗ̵͖̺͎͙̣͖̤̰̭̱̯̦̪͓̮̜̖̩̇̿̚y̷̡̢̬̒͊͋͐̇̉̈̓̄̉̆́̀̽͊̊̍́͠͝t̵̘̬̠̽̑̍̌̍̎͒͊͛̄̎̈̆͒̆͛̈́͘͘͝͝͝ḩ̷̛̮̣͓̞̖̝̰̤͎̒̈̔̌̍̋̌̽͌͒͆͝ị̷̛͖̼̦̿͆̈̈̎̎̽̎̊̀̅͒̀̑̓͛͐́͗́͗́͝n̸̯̼̝͈̱̪̺͔̥̤̦͒͠ǧ̵̭̠̪̬̪̍̋͌̾͒́͒́̆̆̉́̉̒̆̇͋̇̈́̌̈́͊̾͌͘ ̷̧̦̩͔̹͚̝̦̯͎̹̻͎̦͐́͐̑̋̇̆̐̓͜͜͝͠ḧ̵̨̼̗̹̭̻̞͙̪́̍́͐͑̈́͂̀̈́̓̈́͆̍͋͐͒̆ä̵̻̝͙̼́̑̑͂̽́͛̒͆͋͋̋̀̎͑̎͂͒̕͘̕̚͝͠p̸̨̛̩̗̝͔͇͖͎̦̑̽͆͐̃̂̾͘p̶̢̧͙͕̙̙̟̙͚̩͎̻͎̞͍̦͖͓̝̗̯̱͎̝͎̽̄͊͋̽̆͌̒͑́̒̉͌̀͘̕͜͠͠ē̶̡̳͙̱̺̗̱̬͙̤̼͔n̸̢̛̛̛̮̰̗̖͚̞͍̲̳͈̳̲͈͓͍͔͓̮͍͎̫͌̉̂̊̌̊͌̿̎̒͗̊̌̇̋͘͘ë̸̲̤͕̜͓́̓͐̀̍͘͘͘d̴̡̡̝̮̥͙͔̗͔̤͉̳̖͓̙̬̦̬̳͓̗̳͙̝͙̓̒̍̅̐͒́̐͝ͅ ̶͙͍̱͖̲͙̙̊͐̓̈́̈́͆̅̎́̽̀̓͋̕̕͝f̷̛̛̗̰̹̰̫͔̰̥̤̙́̄̓͛̍́̅̓͐́̆̓̕͠͠o̵͙͎̖̾̀͆͛̏̔͂̇̀̊͋͌r̴̨̛̛̹̣͎͚͕̩̼̟̺̠͕̈̅̊̆͑̃́̿̎̎͋̂̎̚͠ ̷̨̖̘̭͕̼̖̗͔̋͆̑͛̈́̓̒̀̓͑̀̓͋̾̃́̏̄̚͝͝͝ą̷̢̠̯̮͈̘̺̘͉̱͕͌̈́̂̾̓̃̏͝ͅ ̷̢̤̤͍͙͕̝͍̙͉͓̤̥̞̳̮̦̈̈́̒̂͑̈́̂́͛͌͆̓̾̾͋̇̾̈̈̆̏̽̚̕͜͝ŗ̷̧̳̮͔̳̹̱̠̺̞̯̗̌͐̀e̸̢̥͂̌̈̿̓̆̀͂̌̈́́̋ȁ̸̢͓͍̗̺̟̼͎͕͉̞̝̺̬̪̣͚̫̤̰̠̏͂͊̽̓͑́̌̈́̈̈́͗͆̚͘͜ͅs̷̭̞͙͖̤̗̥̈́͒̏̒̽́͂̈́͊̓̔̇̈́̅̒̕͜͜ó̷̻̥̦̹̣͎͍̩͚̻̥̩̹̬̪̥̈́̄͒̔̀͆̑̆̊̄̓̿̚ņ̵̯͖̗͇̹͊̓͝

To her ears, it was melody.

The call for The Angel of Music has been issued.

Again, she would play with him. Her misty sway appeared behind him as she gently danced her fingers over his spine, laying her head against his shoulder.

" You called? I am assuming you want to perform a play for me. Invitation of sorts, is it? How could I refuse? "

It was almost as if she had taken root within his thoughts. Taking over like flesh-eating parasites when she knew EXACTLY WHAT HE DESIRED.

Succubus were not formed arbitrarily. They know exactly what you wanted without asking or confirming. And what about this young stag? He craved companionship in the form despite the lack of proof.

So she'd catch the tiger by its tail and humor him. The gem in the rough appeared to capture the glitter in her eye.

" And now... What may you have in store? You went through all of this difficulty again to give me such presents. How sweet are you? "

She would take the glass and nothing else, lingering on her nonexistent cue of personal space. The thick substance splattered across the rims, with some flowing down in decorative patterns comparable to wax on bottle seals. Her shadow snakes to make such things vanish. " My, my, it appears you have captured my spirit rather effectively. I am quite proud. Most of the people I have met have either gone insane or murdered themselves. You are undeniably unique. "

After speaking a word of sweet praise, she would look at him with a loving grin, inhaling a tiny amount of perfume from the scarlet to allow lingering notes of mixing to enter her nose.

Bitter, flavorful, and traditional, akin to swamp waters and chirping crickets.

He was quite potent. Perfectly seasoned.

[halfway-happyyy]

Autumn Mornings

AN: A sweet lady requested this, and I happily obliged her. Lazy autumn mornings lead to hot autumn morning sex for you and Hop. Happy reading loves!

Word count: 2,183

“Ow, fuck!”

Your eyes fluttered open in the morning to the heart-stopping realization that someone was in your room. They were hunched down low by the window, cursing under their breath. It took you longer than it should have in your sleep-heavy state to realize that it was only Hopper closing the window that he had left open the evening previous. A drizzly seven AM October breeze had very rudely welcomed itself into your room, causing you to shiver violently against the down pillows beneath you. Hopper hobbled back to bed, grumbling under his breath as he did so. You grinned up at him in the low dawn light filtering in through the cracked curtains. “You really have no one to blame but yourself for this, my love.” 

He dropped back into bed, sighing heavily as he yanked the quilted covers up just beneath his bearded chin. “It gets so fucking hot in here at night that I feel I am left with no other choice but to crack the window a little.” He paused for a second before adding, “And I stubbed my goddamn toe on the way!” He had never sounded more like a curmudgeonly old man, but it really did make your heart ache in the best way.

“Are you alright?” You offered sleepily.

Hopper yawned and nodded his head in response. “Once I regain feeling again in that toe, I’m sure I’ll be fine.” He glanced over at you and slid his hand up the length of the sheets, interlocking his fingers with yours. “You alright baby girl?”

“I’m fucking freezing, Hop. This is the kind of weather that seeps into your bones and holds on for dear life.” Another involuntary shiver wracked your frame as if to prove your point.

Hopper chuckled heartily and patted the space next to him. “You know they say the best way to warm up is to share body heat?”

“Mm that’s what they say, hey?”

Hopper nodded his head. “’Course there’s no way to know for sure unless we test the theory ourselves.”

He opened his arms wide and you sidled yourself into the enviable warmth of his chest, inhaling deeply the scent that simply was Hopper; cigarette smoke, the subtle tang of a couple of beers from the night before, and cologne. It wasn't long before you felt his cock stir against the small of your back- a usual occurrence when he spooned you. A few minutes passed when you thought he had given in to sleep; his breaths had become deep and measured. But then his large hands began to roam freely along your hips and abdomen as he rutted himself shamelessly against you. You reciprocated his invitation by grinding back against him, grinning at the throaty groan that had erupted from his mouth. “You want this cock baby girl?”

“Yes, please Chief…”

Within seconds he knelt above you and yanked the covers from your body without warning, watching in awe as the frigid air met the sensitive skin of your breasts. You could hear the breath hitch in his throat as he watched goosebumps bloom around your nipples, causing the pink buds to harden under his gaze. "If only you could see what I see hm?" He traced a feather-light fingertip down the outline of your breast to the top of your hipbone and marveled at the way you squirmed breathlessly under his touch. “I haven't even really touched you yet darling, and I know you're soaked for me.” His fingertips danced teasingly at the lace hem of your panties. He inched them down further to the crotch of your panties where he made the discovery that only confirmed what he already knew; you were soaked through. He rubbed you through the flimsy fabric with enough force to have you keening against him, anything for just a little more pressure. He slipped two thick fingers into your folds and bent over the length of your body to take a nipple into his mouth. He rolled his tongue in circles to the rhythm of his fingers inside of you, earning him multiple moans and an upper back full of fresh nail scratches. Every now and then he'd brush the calloused pad of his thumb over your clit causing you to grind shamelessly against his fingers and cry out into the still air before you. Hopper was unbelievably good at taking you so close to the edge you could taste it and then simply stopping; this morning was no different. He pulled his fingers from your wet warmth to wrap a hand around his cock, stroking lazily from shaft to tip. Your own fingers had immediately taken over for where Hop’s had been, and though they weren’t near as long or as thick, you knew how much he appreciated the sight of you getting yourself off for him. Hopper’s hand moved faster along the length of his shaft; you could see a shining bead of pre-come at the reddened head of his cock. You wanted nothing more in that moment to have a taste, the salty liquid much more palatable than the substance that would undoubtedly follow it. “Are you going to make yourself come baby?” The timbre of Hopper’s voice- already normally low, was only that much gruffer under the weight of lust and recent sleep. It made your head dizzy with desire. “Or are you going to ride my face like a good little girl?”

“Fuck Hop,” You pleaded breathlessly at the thought of grinding yourself against his face until you gave in to your orgasm.

“Use your words baby. What would you like? Because you know I’d be all too happy to continue watching you touch yourself.”

You pressed fervent circles into your clit, and as he spoke you could feel the familiar coil of pressure deep in your belly. You weren’t that far off. “I want to ride your face…”

Hopper wordlessly rolled onto his back and rested his head against two propped up pillows. You inched your way slowly up his body; stopping when you were mere inches away from his cock. You closed your eyes and took him into your mouth, reveling in the pleasure that just having him in your mouth brought him. You started slowly at first, swallowing more of him as you inched along. You pulled away and fell onto your haunches, taking him into your hand and stroking hard along his length. The combination of spit and the strength in which you were gripping him, had his eyes shut tight and his fists clenching the sheets beneath you. “That feel good Hop?”

“So fucking good baby…” You lowered your head down again, this time taking him in as far as the back of your throat could handle. “Jesus fuck,” A long, low growl ripped from the base of Hopper’s throat and you gasped around his cock as his fingers found purchase in your hair, holding you to him. You tried your best to take a deep breath, as breathing through your nose was imperative at this point. You began to bob against him, choking slightly as he continued to hit the back of your throat. This, above anything else, was the quickest way to get Hopper coming. He fucked your throat for the next few minutes, hoarse curses and the muffled sound of gagging, the only thing that could be heard between the pair of you. He was starting to get sloppy with his movements and so you tapped the side of his thigh twice, signaling your need to surface for air. Hopper reached a warm hand up to caress the apple of your cheek, smiling blearily up at you. “You take my cock so fucking good baby…”

“Now it’s my turn, Hop.” You shimmied your way up his body and straddled his face, one thigh on either side of him. This was one of your favourite positions; there was a certain power in the notion that you had complete control in this situation, and that the Chief of police’s face was (in this moment) your own personal throne. You gripped the oak headboard above you with a certain voracity only reserved for situations like this. Hopper held tightly to the rounded curves of your ass with one hand, the other stroked lackadaisically down the length of his cock. You set your own rhythm and he was more than happy to keep up with you, groaning periodically against you every time you ground onto him harder. “Fuck, that feels amazing…” You dropped your head to meet his gaze and noticed the way his blue orbs were almost blown over with lust. The wiry bristles of Hopper’s mustache tickled your inner thigh each time you bounced against his face, and that sensation alone was almost enough to get you off. Almost. What really stared to drive you crazy was the infrequent moans Hopper groaned against you from stroking his own cock. The vibrations from that noise alone hit your clit with a vengeance and had you screaming out strings of obscenities. Hopper did it again, and your back arched, hips stilling against his face. “Hop you’re gonna make me come so fucking hard…” It was a breathless warning and one that he was ready for because he certainly didn’t slow down, but simply delved his tongue deeper and rode out the waves of your orgasm with you. Hopper held you to him with both hands even after you had come down from your high, kitten-licking your pussy as you did so. Tremors wracked your body, and a needy whine escaped your lips as he continued to lick you ever so slowly.

When he was satisfied that you had come as hard as you could for him, he patted your ass twice. “I need to feel you baby girl.”

You nodded wordlessly and slid down to where he wanted you, hovering teasingly above him. “You want me here, Hop?”

“Yeah baby, I want you to take that cock again.”

You slowly lowered yourself into his length, gasping at the sensation of him stretching you completely. It was a feeling you don’t think you’d ever tire of; there was something comforting in knowing just how perfectly he fit inside of you. “Fuck, Hop…” You threw your head back and began to ride him at a steady pace, and he matched each thrust with his own, causing an almost electric-like spark to flare somewhere in the depths of your belly again. Whether he used his fingers, or his cock, your g-spot was like a magnet to him that he found almost instantaneously. You could feel yourself yearning again; release was not far off for either of you.

“Such a good girl fucking me the way you are,” He murmured breathlessly. “But I’d like to do some of that now, if you don’t mind.” Begrudgingly, you pulled yourself from him, crawling onto all fours and waiting patiently for him to join you. In seconds he was behind you, pushing himself with minimal effort into your all-encompassing heat, groaning loudly at the new sensations. He wasn’t exactly gentle with you now; you knew that he could tell you weren’t far off and that only helped to spur his own release along. He wound his fingers through your hair and gripped so hard it bordered painful, but then again, Hopper had always had a delicious way of combining pain and pleasure during times like these. He railed into you, each time hitting that sensitive bundle of nerves tucked away, causing you to be a trembling mess beneath him. “You’re going to come for me, again aren’t you?” Hopper’s hand snaked its way between your bodies and found your clit just in time. “Of course, you are… you can’t help it can you baby girl?”

You were beyond the point of forming coherent sentences, so you simply gritted your teeth and nodded your head in silent agreement. He raised a hand and before you knew what was happening, he let it down hard against your ass causing you to moan loudly. Hopper leaned forward and pressed a trail of hot kisses down the length of your spine and let loose another painful slap. That was all it took before you fell apart beneath him, his name a ragged scream lost to the noise around you. “Oh baby…” Hopper stilled his hips against your back and with one last thrust, came in long, powerful waves inside of you. He made no effort to move just yet, simply riding out the waves of a very intense orgasm as long as he possibly could. When he was finished, he pulled himself from you and rolled onto his back, eyes shut and breathing heavily.

You nestled contentedly into him and took his hand in yours. “Hey Hop?”

He cracked an eye open and leaned forward to press a kiss to the tip of your nose. “What is it kid?”

“Could you maybe crack the window a little? It’s hot in here.”

You didn’t think you’d ever tire of the roar of his laugh.

[johannstutt413]

“Good morning, Doctor.” Lady Ceylon walked into his office with a gentle three raps on the open door. “Would you be free for tea this afternoon?”

The Doctor glanced up at her from his work. “Sure. Any particular reason?”

“Does one need a reason for tea?”

“I suppose not.” He nodded. “Very well. Where will we be having it?”

She smiled. “I will host.”

“Immediately after work, or will I have time to change?”

“Oh, most certainly change before you come to my place.” Ceylon chortled. “You should wear something suitable for the occasion, after all.”

He blinked. “Um, right. Is there anything else you need, Ceylon?

“Hmm...I suppose not. I shall see you at tea, then.” She stood there for a little longer before leaving him be.

“Tea with Ceylon - what an unexpected way to spend an evening,” The Doctor mused to himself. “I’m not even that great a fan of tea, but if she wants to discuss something with me, I’ll be all ears. What could this be about, though?”

-

Dressed in a comfortable but nice-looking button-up shirt and jeans, the Doctor made his way to Ceylon’s dorm and knocked. Schwarz answered the door. “Good afternoon, Doctor. Lady Ceylon will see you shortly. Please take a seat.”

“Thank you, Schwarz.” He followed her instruction. “Will you be joining us this evening as well?”

“The Lady has asked me to spend my evening elsewhere, so I’ll be at the bar with Scavenger.”

The Doctor added this to a growing list of strange details. “Well, enjoy your night, regardless.”

“I will, thanks.” A door creaked open. “And with that, I’ll be leaving. Stay hydrated.”

“Stay...” Yet another strange detail, but that paled in comparison to what he was seeing now.

Ceylon, in contrast to her normal attire, was now wearing a slightly-oversized Victorian National University hoodie over what might have been a red dress. “Good afternoon, Doctor. Do you have any plans for later this evening?”

“Nothing in particular, no,” he confirmed, dumbfounded. Her hair was fully tied back in a Rapunzel braid - had she done that herself? “I may have misunderstood the dress code.”

“Simply unbuttoning your shirt should put us at the same level, no?” She walked over to the stove and began boiling their water.

The Doctor did just that, untucking both his shirts in the process. “I’ve never seen you outside of your uniform, I guess.”

“Do you like it?” Ceylon had rolled up her sleeves to fill the boiler. “Schwarz helped me with my hair.”

“It’s quite lovely,” he admitted.

She set a hand to her lips, blushing slightly. “Flattery before the tea has even been poured. How forward.”

“You asked for my...” The Doctor shook it off. “I know you said earlier there doesn’t need to be an occasion for tea, but I am curious why you haven’t invited me before.”

“I had to work up to it, truth be told. Having you to myself in my quarters was a rather daunting prospect.”

He raised an eyebrow. “‘Daunting?’ How so?”

“Well, you see, Doctor, while I often host tea for others - just yesterday, Lady Verna and I had a lovely conversation over the merits of lemon in herbal blends as a flavor additive - I have yet to host a male visitor since coming to Rhodes Island, and I worry that my decorum may be slipping.” As she said that, her hoodie slid off her left shoulder, revealing the dress underneath to be strapless.

“Even in your own home, Lady Ceylon, you are the picture of refinement,” the Doctor reassured her. His stomach growled. “Ah, I missed lunch today. Completely forgot.”

She smiled as she brought a tray of finger sandwiches to the table. “There you are, Doctor. Cucumber, curried chicken, and smoked salmon.”

“Delightful, and much appreciated,” he earnestly thanked her.

“Simply the ritual of tea,” Ceylon blushed, patting him daintily on the shoulder. The boiler began to whistle. “And speaking of which.” She emptied warm water from two teapots, set leaves in both, and filled them to the desired degree from the boiler before bringing the pots to the center of the table. “How are the sandwiches?”

He’d already tried one of each and still could not settle on which to prioritize. “They’re all spectacular. I don’t have tea very often, so I wasn’t sure what to expect, but knowing you, I should have expected it to be this well-done.”

“I’m glad you think so, Doctor. You have had tea before, though?”

“Once with Ch’en and Hoshiguma,” he confirmed. “It was rather awkward, not too different from being a third wheel on a date...In fact, I suspect that’s what I was, in the end.”

She giggled. “That is rather unfortunate. I believe today’s will be substantially more enjoyable. You decided on the chicken, I see?”

“I’ve never eaten meat spiced like this before. You said Schwarz took care of your hair, but I would not be surprised to learn everything else was your work alone.”

“We shared the load,” she admitted, “but to hear your confidence in my abilities...I wasn’t sure how you thought of me.”

The Doctor shrugged. “I have never once doubted your capability, Ceylon. Since the day we met, and you stood alongside us to save Siesta, I’ve trusted you to apply yourself, and the results speak for themselves.”

“Doctor...is it getting rather hot?” Not waiting for an answer, Ceylon removed her hoodie and set it behind her, revealing her dress in its fullest.

“Now I’m underdressed,” he remarked, albeit not changing his attire in any way. “Speaking of hot, do you think the tea is ready?”

She nodded. “I believe so. There you are. If you need anything for it, we should have it and I will retrieve it post-haste.”

“I should be alright, thank you.” The Doctor watched the steam rise from the cup with interest.

“Nothing? No lemon, no milk, no honey?” Ceylon shook her head. “How curious.”

He smiled. “I drink my coffee black for the same reason - the flavors of the plant are my favorite part. Disguising or muddling that with anything defeats some of the point for me; if I wanted to drink chocolate milk with added sugar, I would do that instead of ordering a mocha frappe. Not that I begrudge anyone their tastes, but it simply isn’t my preference.”

“Ah. For some blends, I use the additives to focus on certain aspects of the flavor - a small amount of milk to make a truly bitter tea more immediately palatable so I can enjoy its subtleties, for instance. Do you drink coffee often, then?”

“No more than tea, honestly.” The Doctor shook his head before picking up his cup. “I don’t need large amounts of caffeine, so I only drink either in moderation.” He took a sip, and suddenly, he wondered how quickly conversions could occur. This felt like it might be one.

Ceylon sighed. “Understandable. Are you alright?”

“This is the best tea I’ve ever had,” he replied.

“Oh, why thank you.” She sipped hers. “That is rather good.”

A thought struck him. “Before she left, Schwarz advised me to stay hydrated. Any thoughts on why she would say that?”

“‘Stay hydrated?’...I was hoping to finish our tea before addressing that, frankly.”

“That’s alright, then.” Another long sip. “It did strike me as odd that she wasn’t joining us, and normally I might worry myself over such things, but this tea has certainly set me at ease.”

Ceylon smiled. “That’s good. Unfortunately, I must address that comment now, for my sake.” She refilled off his cup when he set it and the plate back down.

“Very well.” Immediately, the cup was back in hand.

“How do I phrase this...” She tapped the sides of her cup, currently on the table. “The simplest way of putting it would be that I invited you intending to seduce you.”

The Doctor set his cup down. “I see...it has gotten rather hot, hasn’t it?” He removed his over-shirt.

“Since meeting you at Siesta, the thought has crossed me multiple times that a man of your genius deserves someone who can complement it, if not truly match it, and besides that, you are disarmingly handsome without that mask of yours. When I first arrived, I was sure I would find you already had someone at your side in that capacity, but since you do not...”

“You say you ‘intend to seduce’ me...” He cocked his head. “That implies you don’t expect me to simply fall in love with you of my own accord.”

Ceylon blushed. “I mean, it’s a rather ridiculous thought, is it not? We hardly see each other since my arrival here, after all.”

“Fair, I suppose...but truth is stranger than fiction.”

“Are you saying,” she continued after a moment to recover, “that you have already fallen for me?”

The Doctor lifted his cup to his lips, emptied it, and set it back down. “Perhaps not to the same degree as you seem to have for me, but I am more than willing to try to. A woman of your calibre deserves nothing less than your suitor’s best.”

“M-my suitor...I fear I might faint.”

“Perhaps this is what Schwarz meant by hydration,” he smiled. “Should I fetch you something?”

Ceylon shook her head. “No, no, I’m...I’m okay. Um...we should finish tea.”

“Agreed.” The Doctor set his cup on the table, a light dancing in his eyes. While this hadn’t been what he’d expected, it certainly made for a better tea than his last...and boded well for those in future.

[floosies]

lovely: The Birth of Adelasia

pairing: possessed!oc x mcu!au x romantic!bucky barnes

summary: the near death experience of the young witch proved necessary for her growth and his understanding. This is not the aftermath, this is the beginning.

warnings: cursing, past violence, smut, horror themes (sometimes), mentions of depression

Please read with discretion. 18+ content.

A/N: The first nine chapters are the backstory to who she was. These are last nine will focus on the beginning of her new life as her true self. Again I was inspired by billie eilish’s song lovely. if someone you know is dealing with mental health issues please turn to these hotlines.

Tags: @indecisivedolly​

Series Masterlist

Part 11: If He’s a Serial Killer....

Stephen knew he owed the witch a favor, but this felt too personal...also too awkward. Nevertheless, there he was stood, in the soldier’s room at two in the morning. Adelasia looked nervous and pale, he could only guess why. “So why am I here again?” He asked observing their worried looks, her eyes were the size of a doe’s, “can I talk to you about that in private?” She asked softly, he nodded following her outside to the hall.

It was a simple task, the spirit world is something Stephen had good knowledge of. Ever so carefully he worked his actual magic on the two, a burning feeling arose from her, she could feel her spirit being brought out. Looking onto the ground she could see her body, she could see Strange standing behind her. “What is this?” Was Bucky in her mind? Then the sorcerer spoke, “your souls are indeed bonded to one another. Theory correct Adelasia, and this is your celestial form if you will. It’s why you can both communicate without speaking to one another right now.” 

She could feel his fear, it was making consuming her too, but really she had no fear of this at all. His fear kept growing though. It was becoming unbearable “Stephen please return us to our bodies?” Her words broke him out of his state of wonder, “oh right.” The feeling was odd, like the air had been punched out of her. Bucky still looked so scared, she felt for him. Before she could even try to comfort him, he began to speak frantically, “this explains so much. I- I am not the one you want. This can’t happen-” Stephen was not about to become a mediator, “okay. Well that was all, I have to go now. Goodnight, I hope you figure this out.” As he finished his sentence, he walked into a portal and vanished. 

Her worry returned to Bucky who had never experienced magic or other worldly things like what had just happened. She knew better than to read his mind at the moment, “we don’t have to talk about it-” “I know what this means, but believe me you deserve better than me. I am not the person who is ever going to make you happy, hell I can’t even make myself happy. Whatever this thing is about souls....I can’t be a part of it.” The sad look in her eyes did not match the smile she was giving him. “I understand. If more dreams come, please ignore them. There’s no need to ask questions anymore, I promise to do the same. Goodnight James,” she left that room without looking back.

Something in him sank the moment she left, he knew he was wrong. That he should have been softer about turning her away. He couldn’t risk hurting her though, she was just like him. A bit broken with dark clouds that still loomed in her. Maybe he was wrong, because after all, she said she understood. She didn’t get angered either, she just let him reject her. He was an idiot to anyone who didn’t know him. 

When Steve heard from his old friend about what’d happened, he didn’t hesitate to hit him with a jab at his side. Why would he deny himself such a good thing? How could he hurt such an innocent being? If he knew James as well as he thought he did, he figured all this was a way to assure his negative thoughts that he was undeserving of some kind of joy. This would not do, Steve schemed a plan, it took weeks for certain people to agree to it, but he did it.

It was really a rouse to make James attentive of her. Steve had asked her on a date, but most people knew that he was seeing Nat, maybe not exclusively yet. They were together though and when James learned that his pal had the nerve to ask his ‘soulmate’ on a date there was a rather large fire that began to ignite in the pit of his soul. The night of the date came and he waited with door of his room open to watch her pass by. She looked beautiful in a soft pink dress, it looked almost from a fairy tale. 

She had a big smile and a sense of whimsicality about her. Before she could continue down the hall to her suitor, he stopped her. “I hope you know that Nat is gonna be disappointed that you’re doing this.” This caught her attention with a small twirl she turned around to face him, “who is to say that she isn’t aware of this dinner invitation?” It was all she said to him. It was the first time in weeks that she had spoken to him, her voice as was gentle as ever. His heart sped up at the words, not out of embarrassment or fear, but out of admiration.  

While she was probably smiling and flirting her night away with his best friend, Bucky sat on his bed starring out of his window. He wallowed in his imagination of what she was doing, how it should have been him. So lost in his trance, he did not notice that it had chilled quite sufficiently. Not until he felt the chill of a cool draft and heard the voice of a known annoyance, “you really outdid yourself now boy,” Tenebrae said with a hearty laugh. Bucky could not help but to roll his eyes at the image of the entity in its old man form, just cackling.

The being then shifted into the form of the elderly man again, “tell me. Have you begun to have dull aches form at odd times?” Sure this was trivial, but frighteningly enough, it was true; he had. Without missing a beat Tenebrae spoke again, “when I first met you, I was prepared to kill you, slowly and in an entertaining matter. You hurt her, but then higher powers came forth proclaiming your importance in her life. They called it eternal bonding, and I called it a pain that I would never rid of. Now you reject her, again hurting her. My you must wish me to kill you. However, I cannot let you die. Do you know why you cannot perish?” Bucky was too angered and afraid to answer, this creature was demonic, it would torment him if it felt disrespected, so instead he remained quiet. This only made the entity sigh.

“If I kill you, she will slowly and painfully begin to perish as well. Now, you rejected her, did you not?” He only nodded before feeling the force of a slap on his face, “that was your mistake. You chose your pride instead of your truth, you love her and here is the consequence of your little prideful stunt. As the time continues of you rejecting her, the souls not being intertwined as supposed to be, you will both begin to slowly rot from the inside out.” His eyes widened slightly at the idea of a torturous death, “do you want to know why the idea of soulmates was one that was erased? i‘ll tell you. For this very reason, because arrogant fools like you decide that the soul that you are bonded to is not what you wish for. The soul is a powerful thing, so much so that one ache like a love that is not reciprocated is enough to dismantle the spirit.” 

She would die, he would die, their souls would become nothing. He looked at the old man who now wore a scowl on his lips, “worst of all there is a mission approaching and as her soul begins to perish, so do her powers. What do you think will happen if she is in battle without her strength? I cannot aid her if she is not strong enough. You arrogant boy, admit that you love her and stop this madness! There is still time.” The past was simply that, to refuse her was his mistake and he had to fix it, to lose her was not an option.

In a restaurant well known to the modern rich and famous, sat her friends beside her. All with their respective partners, Wanda with Vision, Nat with Steve, and somehow Tony had agreed to this dinner with Pepper. The meal was an array of seasonal dishes, it was spring which meant light broths and lamb. It was all quite lovely. Deciding to go for a palate cleanser the group began small talk, “so what did Barnes say?” She rolled her eyes, “that Natasha would be very disappointed in me,” she answered with a playful pout. This caused them to laugh a bit, “Steve let’s hope this plan of yours works out,” Pepper taunted before taking a drink of her wine. With a shrug Steve replied, “trust me knowing Bucky it will.” 

Night began to end and with it the fun. They arrived back to the compound, Vision holding Wanda in his arms, as she’d enjoyed too much of the wine that was given as compliments from the owners of the restaurant. Steve and Nat had left to her quarters and the Stark’s had decided to stay behind in Manhattan. Adelasia was bubbly about the night, she’d opted for champagne instead of wine and she was wearing a beautiful dress. The night had been perfect. In her room she began make music play out of thin air, a smile began to form on her lips and a knock came from her door. With an ease she asked, “FRIDAY, who is it?” The AI spoke with a chirpy tone, “Mr. Barnes is at the door Ms. Barnett.” The music stopped and her smile faltered, she opened the door as if almost trying not to break it, and there before her, he stood with a worry on his face.

[three-houses-text-files]

lorenz/marianne

c-a support + paired ending

c (i)

Lorenz: Hello, Marianne. You're well, I hope? Marianne: I am, Lorenz. Thank you. L: I cannot help but notice you do not look it. M: Is that so? I feel fine. L: Hmm... M: … L: … M: W-was there something you needed? L: How unseemly of me. My apologies. It is not my intention to stare. M: Does something about me seem...off? L: Not at all. I was just remembering your father. Or, rather, comparing my experience of him to you. M: … L: Your father, Margrave Edmund. He is one of the shrewdest nobles in all the Alliance, with a noted gift for pointed speech. L: On and beyond the battlefield, his words have the power to move friend and foe alike. L: My own father has said he would not want to make an enemy of him. Naturally, I am of the same mind. M: … L: Your father is blessed with gifts of confidence and eloquence. Yet, compared to him, you seem always reticent and downcast. L: Uh! Oh—I'm...I'm sorry. I don't mean to cause you discomfort. It's just that the contrast between you and your father is striking. M: I have very little in common with my adoptive father. L: But he sent you to Garreg Mach. Clearly he sees potential in you. L: I think I see it too. Yes, a certain charm. Gravitas, if you will. Just like him. *marianne sparkles in lorenz’s eyes during the cutscene* L: Ah! M: I can't say that I know too much about him. I should be going now. L: Yes. Yes, of course. Please, take care. L: Oh, such grace! Such serenity! How could such a beauty be hiding in plain sight? L: With a little polish, she would shine magnificently…

——————————————————————————————

c (ii)

L: Tell me, Marianne, do you have a love of flowers? M: Um. Well, I don't dislike them. L: I've happened upon a spot that's just teeming with splendid blossoms. Would you like me to show you? M: I think I would rather stay. It would be for the best if you kept your distance from me. L: Well, perhaps I could pick a few of the nicest and present them to you? L: With a beautiful bouquet in your arms, your magnificence would rival even that of the goddess. M: I would never compare myself to the beauty of the goddess. L: I see. Well, I don't mind. Oh, that is a lovely handkerchief you've got there. L: Did you know that a handkerchief reflects the sensitivity of its owner? Yours tells me you have quite a refined sensibility. L: If you only applied yourself a little more to the rest of your ensemble, there is no doubt in my mind... M: If you admire my handkerchief so much, you may have it. L: Ah! No, please. That is not what I meant. M: It was a gift from my adoptive father. I didn't choose it for myself. M: I’m sure I don't share his refined sensibilities though, considering how little he and I have in common. M: I have to go. L: Such beauty, and yet... L: With just a little polish, she'd be a marvel. If only she'd put in some effort... L: Hm... I wonder. Indeed! I shall make it my mission to awaken her beauty! L: There is nothing that I, Lorenz Hellman Gloucester, cannot do!

—————

b

L: … M: ... L: … M: Ah, um... L: Hm? What is it, Marianne? M: I’m curious why you've been eating your meals near me as of late... M: I’m not much for conversation... M: I’m always at a loss for words...and I never know how to respond to questions. L: It's true that there are some who prefer a lively dinner table. But I prefer to eat in peace. L: With you, my meals are a relaxing experience. In fact, you are the most peaceful dining companion I've ever had. M: R-really? L: There is a real grace and fluidity to your every movement. I greatly appreciate refined table manners. L: Observing you all this time, I believe I've realized what is so striking about you. L: Your beauty comes from the heart. It is an inner beauty. L: It is not some flamboyant pageantry, a product of external adornment or grooming. L: When I first noticed it, I thought that it could use some refinement. A little polish. L: But I was mistaken. You are perfect in your natural state. Just as you are. M: You think I'm beautiful...just the way I am? L: Certainly. To add a superficial luster on top of what you already possess would be offensively redundant. M: No one's ever said anything like that to me before... L: Alas, I am the only one with eyes. L: But perhaps it is for the best that your beauty not be revealed to all the world. L: Yes, it is certainly better that only I, Lorenz Hellman Gloucester, can appreciate your true magnificence! L: And on that note, I bid you farewell! M: What a strange person... But being called beautiful just the way I am? M: That was nice to hear.

——————————————————————————————

a

L: Ah, Marianne. I've been meaning to thank you. The books that you lent me have proved most fascinating. L: Would you permit me to offer you tea, as a token of my gratitude? M: Um, I'm a little busy right now. Maybe later tonight? L: Of course. I will look forward to it. M: Thank you for inviting me over. L: Certainly! Thank you for coming. And please, relax. This is no formal occasion. M: Oh! This tea tastes so good! L: Doesn't it just? This is my absolute favorite. I'm pleased you like it. L: This pastry may suit your palate also. It is commonly paired with this tea, in my homeland. M: Ah, it's sweet. It complements the astringency of the tea. L: You have exquisite taste! And there is plenty more where that came from. We simply must do this again. M: You want to spend more time with me? L: Naturally. M: Well, that's... M: Actually, there's something I need to say. L: Yes? What is it? M: I've been keeping this from you for a while. It's... M: It’s about my Crest. It's just terrible. I— L: Please, that's quite enough! L: Oh! L: You’re trembling. If uttering this secret hurts you, then I have no desire to hear it. M: It-it's just... L: Your smile is a greater gift to me than any truth. L: Whatever you have hitherto concealed, I am certain it is essential to you. And I do wish to know it. L: But not until the day arrives when you can tell me with a smile on your face. L: I am not the sort of man to prize my own knowledge over others' happiness, you know. L: Besides. The mystery is part of your charm. M: Hehehe! M: You’re funny, Lorenz... L: There! That's what I mean! Your beauty has always captivated, but that smile truly warms my heart! M: This is the first time I've smiled in so long...and I have your kindness to thank for that. L: As I've said, you are perfect just as you are. But I suppose I can take a little credit! L: Yes, your radiant smile shall illuminate all the world! With me by your side, you will not be able to help it! M: Hehehe! I'm looking forward to that.

——————————————————————————————

paired ending

As the new head of House Gloucester, Lorenz first worked to restore his own territory, and then expanded his vision to include reforms for all Fódlan. At the height of his storied political career, he announced his marriage to Marianne. Prior to the wedding, she received extensive tutelage from her adoptive father, Margrave Edmund, so that by the time they were wed she was fully prepared to govern. The pair was particularly successful in providing new innovations in dairy farming, and came to be known as the mother and father of horses and cattle in the region. It is said that Lorenz was rather vexed by the title.

[jarmes]

Mirage

In a world gone to hell, a man journeys through the desert.

The horse trots through the desert at a slow pace. Its rider kicks it in the side, telling it to speed up. The horse ignores this command and instead collapses, falling into the white sand. The rider brushes the sand off his coat and looks down at his horse. The horse is thin; weeks of walking through the seemingly endless desert have taken their toll. Skin clings tightly around the horse’s ribs. The rider peers into the horse’s black eyes. Judging by its empty stare, the horse is dying of thirst.

The rider grabs a canteen from his pack and takes a sip. The cold water rushes down his throat, quenching his thirst like heavenly nectar. The rider wipes his chin, grabs his gun, and fires, putting the horse out of its misery. The rider kneels down, pulls out his knife, and starts cutting.

The last time he saw another person was three weeks ago. Deep down, he doubts that he’ll ever see another human being. The desert stretches for a thousand horizons in every direction. The unrelenting wind blows away any footprints he leaves, destroying any trace of his existence.

He takes another sip from his canteen, finishing the last drops of water. He sighs. The last time he was dying of thirst he was lucky enough to come across a man with a horse and several canteens full of water. Back then, his gun had four bullets. Now it only has two. If he doesn’t find an oasis or another traveler soon, he has a feeling that he’ll use one of his remaining bullets.

The rider cuts the horse into slabs of meat and dries them using the sand. He takes what he can; the rest he leaves for the buzzards. Food isn’t something he’ll have to worry about, at the very least. He munches on the horse jerky as he marches through the desert, searching for salvation.

After two days of walking, he sees what looks to be sparkling blue water. He races towards it, ignoring his screaming legs. When he reaches the “oasis” and realizes that it is nothing more than a mirage, he collapses to his knees and starts crying.

He spends the night under the stars, dreaming of raining. In the morning, he sets out again. After a few hours, he collapses. His lips are chapped and swollen. His mouth tastes like sand. He struggles to keep his eyes open. With a sigh, he grabs his gun. He places the barrel on his temple.

He takes one last look at the world. He sees a person walking towards him. The rider ignores this as nothing more than another mirage. He falls deep into unconsciousness before he can find the strength to pull the trigger.

When he comes to, he is lying in a comfortable bed. His sweat soaked clothes are folded neatly in a pile at the foot of the bed. His pack sits by the door of the small bedroom and his gun sits on a small nightstand.

Sitting next to his gun is a large pitcher of water. Without thinking, the rider grabs the pitcher and pours himself a glass of ice cold water. As the water rolls down his throat, he starts to wonder where he is. After downing three glasses of water, the rider grabs his gun and slowly exits the bedroom. He explores the small house, discovering several plain rooms. Finally, he finds the front door and walks out into the scorching desert once more.

An old woman is sitting on a bench, reading an old book and sipping a glass of tea. “Hello dearie,” she says. “Did you have a nice rest?”

The rider draws his gun and points it at the old woman. She laughs. “There’s no need for that,” she says.

“How did I get here?” the rider asks.

“I found you out in the desert and brought you here.”

“Who are you?”

“I’m just a kind old woman, trying to survive in this messed up world. Would you like some tea?”

The old woman hands the rider a glass of iced tea. He begrudgingly takes a sip and tries to ignore how good it tastes. The old woman returns to reading her book. The rider sits down next to her. “Where am I?” he asks.

“My home.”

“Your home?”

The old lady takes a sip of her tea. “You are not the first man to try and cross this desert, nor will you be the last,” she says. “My family and were like you once, weary travelers crossing an endless sea of sand in search of paradise. We came across this oasis a years ago and decided to live here.”

She stands up and grabs the rider’s hand. “Come, let me show you around,” she says.

She leads the rider away from the porch, guiding him to a spring surrounded by trees. “When the seas dried up, this region became a hostile land. My family heard rumors of a paradise beyond the sands. We found this Oasis.”

“There’s an underground well that flows into this spring. I’ve been here for years and it still hasn’t gone dry,” she says. “My family decided that this place was as close to paradise as we could find. We built our house using wood from the trees. We made this place our home.”

“This is amazing,” the rider says. “What do you eat?”

The old woman leads him to the house’s cellar, where tables lined with potted plants sit. Bright lights hang from the ceiling, illuminating the room. Jars of canned meat line the walls of the cellar. “I was a botanist, before the world went to hell,” the woman says. “Over the years, passing travelers have left me with the things I needed to make this garden. Pieces of metal, glass bottles, the occasional seed, you get the idea. It took a long time, but I eventually managed to make this garden.”

“Travelers?”

“You aren’t the first person I’ve ever found passed out in the sand. Every few weeks someone makes their way through here. They never stay long, but they do give me what I need to survive.”

“I grow potatoes, lettuce, cabbage, and a few herbs,” she says. “It isn’t the most flavorful diet, but I manage.”

The rider notices a pot filled with pink flowers. “What’s the point of this?” he asks.

“You’ll figure it out eventually,” she says.

When dinner rolls around, the old woman invites the rider to have dinner with her. She serves him a bowl of delicious soup that melts in his mouth. “This is amazing,” he says. “What’s in this?”

“Cabbage, water, and a certain secret ingredient,” she says.

“Can I ask you something?”

“What?”

“Why did you save me?”

“Because you're a person. It would be a terrible waste to let you die out there.”

The pair finish their meal and the woman leads the rider to her parlor. “This house is enormous,” he says. “How did you build this place?”

“My husband was a carpenter. He put his heart and soul into building this place.”

“Your husband? Is he-”

“He’s dead.”

The old woman sighs. “Johnny was a kind man. Too kind. That’s what did him in, in the end.”

“I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to pry.”

“No. It’s fine. Why don’t you tell me more about yourself?”

“There isn’t much to tell. I wanted to get away from the reds, heard about the hidden city, and decided to risk my life by crossing the desert.”

“I have heard that exact story a thousand times from a thousand different travelers. Sometimes men, sometimes women, sometimes children, all chasing that dream. A paradise where the water runs freely. A place where the reds don’t dare visit. A mirage.”

“A mirage?”

“I was like you once. It took the death of my children to realize the truth. There is no paradise beyond this desert. If you leave, you will die. Please, stay with me.”

The pair go to their respective bedrooms. The rider lies in bed. Even though the call of sleep feels so enticing, thoughts swirl around in his head like a whirlwind, keeping him awake. He grabs his gun and sneaks out of his room. Being sure to not make a noise, he creeps into the old woman’s room. Through the darkness, he sees a vaguely human-sized shape lying beneath the covers. He raises his gun and fires.

The gun just clicks. He looks at it, confused. The old woman opens the door to the bedroom. “I took the gun apart when you were unconscious, making sure to leave a few pieces out when reassembling it,” she says. “Not that it matters, of course, judging by the fact that you just tried to shoot a pillow.”

The rider aims his gun at her and fires again. Once more, the gun simply clicks. “You’re a bandit, aren’t you?” the old woman says. “A man who kills others for the supplies he needs.”

“So what if I am?”

“Let me tell you a little story. I was like you once. I heard of the hidden city and convinced my husband and children to come with me. As we traveled, our supplies began to dwindle. That’s when the bandits showed up.”

“I wish I could say that they killed my children,” she says. “That would have been so much more bearable. I attacked the bandits. I killed them. It felt good. One of my children died at the hands of those bandits. The other one died of thirst three days later.”

“My husband forced me to keep going. Then we found this place. This oasis. Our salvation. We built a home here. Then others showed up. My husband, the kind man that he was, invited them to stay with us. Of course, there wasn’t enough food for all of us. Back then, my garden was only a figment of my imagination.”

“Those people killed my husband. They didn’t kill me. Since then, I’ve found a lot of people lying out there in the sand. Trust me, cabbage soup is much more palatable with a little meat in it.”

“You’re probably wondering why your body feels so numb. Remember that pink flower? It’s called valerian. It’s a potent natural sedative. I slipped a little into your soup earlier. Don’t worry. You’ll be asleep, so you shouldn’t feel anything.”

“Wanna know how I know the hidden city is fake? Because, much like this “oasis”, human kindness is nothing but a mirage.”

[naiylabrouillard]

How To Do A Reiki Healing Attunement Eye-Opening Unique Ideas

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Reiki Gemstone Therapy

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[funkypoacher]

Kinktober Day 1

“Aphrodisiacs”

Ship: Solas/Ori; Fandom: Dragon Age

The night was a warm one. He opened the door. She said, “I was just thinking about you,” to which Solas smiled.

Back kept straight, hands clasped behind, and feet called forward by her sweet confession, the man sauntered confidently towards where the she sat. Amidst the superfluous expense poured like rivulet silver, Orilya was almost lost. Not one example of extravagance was overlooked as the Inquisitor’s quarters exemplified the over-blown expression of opulence – at least, to some deluded man’s heart. A bed frame of molded gold; marble floors forgotten under stretches of silken tapestries woven with nature motifs: ostentatious displays such as this were meant to inspire dread rather than impress, and indeed they met their goal for Solas was afraid. He was very afraid of the appetites of the Orlesian elite. They found sweetness in starving their servants while consuming taffeta window-curtains like confection. They gorged on samite petticoats or stockings while the poor put their children in reappropriated sacking. While surrounded by a million brass mirrors so that they might better see the beautiful debauchery in which they binged, these powdered nobles metaphorically mirrored the world which had been locked away for all that they cost.

In the middle of this noisy luxury –rather amateurish when compared to the Evanuris’ tastes– was Ori, sitting like the jewel-like middle of a flower from whence the petals unfold. Soft and unassuming, and dressed down to only an over-sized shirt that fit her like a shift, she stood out for her simplicity and her spirit. And her mind. And her smile. Which was, at the moment, beaming.

Before her was a broad platter topped with varying vibrant fruit. In the excess of consumption, the woman’s mouth had tinged. As Ori smiled in her wide, animated way, it became clear that this colouring had not been confined to her lips alone: her teeth and tongue were blood-red, too. It was almost garish – and certainly charming.

Solas chuckled.

“Were you not taught that eating in bed is the behavior of beasts?”

It was difficult for him to affect such a lofty tone. And Ori snorted at the attempt. Flashing a wicked, gory grin, her head lolled skeptically to the side. Then, under the pretense of cleaning fruit juice from her finger, she puckered her lips around the tip of her pointer-digit, took it to the back of her throat, and, easing it out, letting it go with a loud pop.

“Really? Because I’m fairly sure all you ever do in bed is eat.”

His lover’s laugh was insidious. He rebutted in the only way he could: an even smile which darkened to something ravenous. While settling on the edge of the bed and sinking deep for the goose-down it was made of, Solas off-handedly considered how Ori’s bare legs –inviting him from beneath them hem of her shirt– kindled his mattress-based appetite. Then he wondered, even more casually, if that shirt was his.

The Inquisitor nodded at the food. She took more to her mouth.

“So. There’s fruit, and chocolate –melty chocolate– plus chilies, which is wild. They’re not too hot, though. Oh, and champagne. Which I drank most of. It gets less wretched after the first few glasses. The chilies, though, they are so— you’ve got to put them in the chocolate. I cannot believe how good it is. I’ve eaten… Well, it’s safe to say I’ve eaten more than I should have, at this point.”

Her description was accented by swallows and slurps as she gluttonously munched on watermelon cut into garish little hearts, pomegranate pearls, and rich, red strawberries nearly the colour of wine.

“It came from Celene,” Ori added, lips busying with a splash of water to wash it down.

“And Briala, ostensibly,” guessed Solas, all the while gathering chocolate with a slice of watermelon.

The Inquisitor settled with a sigh and a wriggle against the pillow-stack. According to her crooked look Solas had not touched upon the half of it, and Ori motioned towards a card of periwinkle parchment placed on the bed-side table. “Oh yeah. Take a look.”

While placing the watermelon to his lips, Solas glanced over Celene’s elegant script penned in a twinkling, golden ink. It read,

Ham of despair and acrimonious stag are quite fashionable for a soirée, but what you have done for me and mine requires a new palate altogether. Accept these morsels flavored of amour and passion, and may its fruits taste ever sweeter.

                                        ~Celene and Briala~

Solas swallowed the melon. After reevaluating the Empress’s words, he immediately ate more.

”See? They’re even signing things as a couple.” Ori’s hazel-stare watched him and shone. “Is that… alright? Briala is still one of us. It could be used as blackmail at some point. Don’t you think?”

“Perhaps,” Solas shrugged, picking up some pomegranate. “Should they part as brutally as before.”

The fruit was extraordinary: a rich, raw, souring sweetness with a bit of a bitter follow-up which was much enjoyed. Audibly smacking his lips in approval, the man’s mouth then began to profusely water, which Solas thought to remedy with eating more. Taking a dozen of the glistening pomegranate pearls to his mouth, he noted Ori scrutinizing him with her head tilted, eyes steady, and mouth slackened to the point of showing off her little, red tongue. He almost had to ask as soon as he finished with chewing.

“Ah.” Solas feigned a modest look. “Am I to assume my lips have stained?”

She nodded languidly. The day’s long hours finally seemed to be having an effect, for Ori had now quieted, she was blinking her rounded, shining eyes more often, and her breathing came harder, catching thick in her throat. Swallowing hard around a sigh, she motioned towards his hands –“fingers, too,” – and fell deeper into her pillows.

It took Solas less than a second to stop caring about his loose-fitting, tight-collared, Orlesian-cut costume of light blue damask accented by ivory and mauve. They weren’t his colours. Nor did he like the style. But, while he didn’t care for the clothes, he did not want to smear reds all about Ori’s sheets, so he licked the few dribbling, wine-toned droplets dripping down his hands. There were no napkins – by design, in all probability, considering the appreciative, insinuating note.

“Lovely,” Solas approved. The last of the pomegranate he soon popped in his mouth.

Although simply a token –a reflex of etiquette really, and hardly a reflection of her true gratitude– Celene had outdone herself. The platter had more life and exuberance of taste than all the marinated meats or complicated creams usually served at table. It hit every kind of taste bud and left it distinctly gratified. To say nothing of the company, of course, which was superb.

Still reclined upon a dozen damask pillows, Ori watched him eat. Shoulder-length hair of mousy, silken brown framed her wide face in shadows, outlining its every aspect and making them more specifically beautiful. Her short, delicate, perpetual pout blazed in the dimmed candlelight for all the berry juice that now acted like a cosmetic. It drew the curves of her lips right into a picture of what they could be doing: sipping spirits while negotiating with nobles; sneering sourly at the kitchen staff’s treatment; contorting in the sweetest agony while screaming inarticulates that perfectly described her complete abandon while Solas was buried hot and hard inside.

She’d had her fill she’d been filled to brimming and was now simply content satisfied; utterly satiated to just see him relish in a delicious meal.

Solas was sweating. Bad. Particularly at the collar. Clearing his throat, the man let the sudden, hazy lust clear from his head before trading a happy look with his beloved.

“Try the chilies,” suggested Ori. She was very tired now, and it left her voice trance-like.

Doing as she’d needingly begged asked, Solas could not truthfully say they were his favorite fare. The spice was nicely accented by the bitter chocolate, but the new, sharp, without-warning sweat he developed couldn’t be forgiven because he was already sweating terribly. Although a few buttons were let, it did not help his breathing. Solas felt suffocated: by the stifling heat of the chilies, his constricting clothes, and, most of all, Ori’s very naked legs bending at the knee, folding up, and then falling apart just enough to suggest the smallest glimpse of her…

Ah. The air clouded thickly with her woman’s aroma.

“I believe the fruit is starting to have an effect,” Solas noted hazily as he vaguely recalled something about it tasting ever sweeter. His mind immediately moved on to the idea of shoving his fingers between Ori’s legs until she squelched and squeezed around him.

Ori spoke without acknowledgement. “Still got chocolate on your hands.”

Solas’ previous theory that she wasn’t sleepy –just deliriously horny– found glorious affirmation. As soon as he started laving over his messy fingers, the Inquisitor’s gaze exploded. All of Ori’s face fell to expressionless distraction in her desire except those eyes; those burning, ardent eyes, which were pretty much pleading that he keep fucking going. Clearly she was boiling inside just as badly as he. As the pace of her breathing quickened, Solas made sure to crawlingly lick and lap in the crook where his fingers met. It was a sensitive spot; it did as much for him physically –little quick tickles firing towards his cock– as it did for her to just watch his tongue work, never mind the innuendo; the insinuation. My face buried between your legs until you break, vhenan: I beg for it. Within a few more mouthy strokes, Ori made a sad little cry, parted her legs farther, and her fingers found their own sodden mischief.

She threw her head back with elated gratification. Growling, Solas stood away from the bed, began hastily undressing, and watched the Inquisitor finger-fuck herself.

“The… the fruit was… Um— So…”

Panting, Ori played furiously at her clit in those rapid, tight circles that sent her careening towards an end, but still she retained her stubbornness and quaintly tried to speak. The sounds of her stroking through her own slick were heard poignantly and perfectly as her folds slapped wetly together. “So the fruit was laced, or what?”

Solas chuckled while finishing up with his shirt. Wriggling out of the sleeves, letting it flutter to the floor, he then turned to the adversary of his belt. “There is certain cuisine that will inspire sexual appetite. Fruit, nuts; a variety of vegetables. But this may simply be the suggestion of Celene’s note. “Solas stepped out of his pants and dove towards her. “Or that we are both easy.”

Ori giggled joyously as Solas, without preamble, dove for her. Flippantly tossing her legs farther apart, he came to a thorough hilt, and groaned for her soft, milking grip that cradled him in soaking euphoria and poured hot silver to fire through his veins. Finding the rush of his body only incensed, however –and hearing Ori mewling so pitifully beneath– he gave into solid, body-jarring pounding until he felt the boil within his stomach want to burst just as badly as his balls.

Thrusting along in uneven, violent, writhing tandem, Ori came quick with a holler that left her face beautifully contorted. Her cunt convulsed and clamped down as her hands grabbed around his back, pulling him closer and signaling that he was allowed to cum. Gasping and heaving far more than audibly, Solas followed up with his own orgasm which was short and bright and ended with him sweating and quietly laughing.

For all the relaxing inaction he was seeing while in Halamshiral, it was well that they were screwing so often or else Solas’ legs and back would have been aching. Instead, he felt slightly light-limbed, but waited to go again once Ori had caught her breath. In the interim, they both lay far apart, the huge bed accommodating more than enough room for each

“It was the fruit,” Ori insisted as soon as her jaw could make more than her familiar gasping purrs. “Definitely the fruit. We are not easy.”

After a skeptical snort, Solas affirmed her declaration with a slightly more affable “yes.” His hand crawled over and across the sheets, and his fingers twined and entangled with hers. “It was the fruit, vhenan.”

[benjikarofsky]

Just the Three of Us || Para

WHO: Benji Karofsky (@benjikarofsky), Franco Del Rio (@southsidefranco), and Topher Pierce (@topherxpierce​).

WHERE: Benji’s apartment

WHEN: 8th June 2019 (backdated)

NOTES: In need of a way to finally cope with all the tragedies that had been bestowed on him in the last couple of weeks, Benji decides to recover in the best way he knows: getting wine drunk with his fiancé and his boyfriend. However, in true Tophjico fashion, a few drinking games quickly dissolves into something more dramatic.

TRIGGERS: Polygamous themes

BOLD: Benji

ITALIC: Topher

NORMAL: Franco

WORD COUNT: 8692

Benji came back into the house, a few bottles of wine in a reusable grocery bag. He had really been trying to pick more creative ways of dealing with this giant tragedy that had been bestowed upon him, but after his fight with Kurt and his argument with Marley added more fuel to the fire, he had run out of other ways to cope. He needed to get a little drunk. And he needed to do it with the two people he loved. 

 “Guys? I’m back from the store,” he called, sitting down on the sofa slowly in an attempt not to hurt his bruised stomach further. “Can someone grab cups and someone else pick a show?”

"I call picking a show!" Topher answered from his room as he finished writing up a short story and made way for the living room. "I know you specified shit TV in the text, but does Brooklyn Nine-Nine sound alright? If not, then I imagine that we can find some ridiculous reality show to make fun of or just have as background noise. Whatever we want to call it," he rattled off once he'd gotten close to the coffee table and picked up the remote. 

 The former Serpent took a seat in his favorite chair and allowed himself a few moments to completely relax. Hopefully, things would go well or as well as they could go with everything considered. "All in favor of Brooklyn Nine-Nine, say aye. Those opposed, say nay and list the show of your choice."

Franco had been sitting in his bedroom thinking about the last few days. In a perfect world, the three of them could live in harmony. In his perfect world, he would have used the heroin hidden in one of his drawers and gone and pretended it was OK but that's not how this was going to work and he knew it. 

He sighed as he was called, grabbed the beer he'd been drinking, and walked to the lounge, "Brooklyn 99 is fine" he said, taking a seat in an armchair and swinging his legs over the side, "I'll watch whatever. I'm mainly here for the drinks anyway" he said, a little bit quieter then normal. This was the first time he'd be spending a night in with whatever this relationship was, and he was concerned.

"Aye," Benji responded, "I know you're the odd man out, Toph, so B99 definitely works for me." He got one bottle of wine out of the bag and set it on the coffee table, then got up to grab cups and a wine opener. "Franc, since you didn't pick a show, cups were technically your job, Baby," he teased as he sat back down, his mind a bit too preoccupied to notice how his fiancé was feeling. 

He poured himself a glass of wine, then poured one for Franco as well. He downed his glass and started to refill it as he turned to his best friend. "Toph, you sure you don't want any? I definitely bought enough."

"Thank you both," Topher simply responded as he got the show started up. His gaze flicked between Benji and Franco for a few moments as uneasiness settled in once more. Sure, he'd been in relationships before, but those had been in attempts to play straight. Plus, he may have been on board with the idea from the get go, yet that did nothing to eliminate the feeling that he was on uncharted territory. So, the 18 year old let his attention drift to the TV and Brooklyn 99. 

Then Benji's voice brought him right back and he gave a light wave of dismissal. "Thank you very much Ben, but I'm fine. Besides, I'd rather not discover what effect wine has on me. If beer turns me into a flirty drunk, who knows what the hell wine will do?"

Franco took the glass of wine of the table and drank it in two quick gulps, bringing the glass back down and pushing it over to Benji, "Then  drink beer" he said, raising an eyebrow at Topher, "Being sober is going to get boring real quick" he said. He fidgeted with his hands and stared at the television, "Maybe if we call play a drinking game or something, get to know each other better?"

"You can do whatever you want, Toph. Don't feel pressured," Benji stressed, refilling Franco's glass and sliding back over to him. He downed one more glass himself, refilled it, then leaned back, content that that was enough for him to get a buzz. With two glasses down, he was ready to take smaller sips throughout the night just to keep himself tipsy--he had already promised Topher that he wouldn't get too sloppy. "Drinking game sounds fun, what do you say, Toph? You can drink water or soda or something but still play?"

"Yeah, let me get a Pepsi and we can get the fun started," Topher answered as he stood up in order to head for the kitchen. On one hand, maybe Franco had a point about how being sober would end up boring? On the other, he had more than enough combined first and second hand experience with drinking to immediately put him off of it. "Maybe later in the night, I don't know," he remarked over his shoulder as he grabbed a bottle of Pepsi from the fridge then opened it as he headed back for the living room. "But what drinking game shall we be playing tonight, gents? There's a whole wide world of them."

Franco laughed and shook his head, "Well, I'm not going to get to know you playing Ring of Fire am I?" he said. His mood was confusing for even him but he knew he had to bite his tongue and try this, "Never have I ever.... We get to find out some real interesting things about each other".

Benji fake gagged at the word 'Pepsi'. "You're lucky I love you, otherwise I wouldn't even let you keep that in the house, Toph," he said casually, stretching out on the sofa since everyone else had opted for chairs. At the mention of 'Never Have I Ever', he clapped his hands. "Hell yeah! If you've done it, one sip. If you're the only one who's done it, three sips. That's how we play on campus." He paused to think, then continued, "I'll go first: Never Have I Ever kissed a girl."

Topher jokingly flipped Benji off as he fired back, "You and I both know I don't have the fanciest palate around. But you're right, I'm so damn lucky to have your love in my life." Then when the question hit his ears, he opened the Pepsi and took a sip of it. "Real quick disclaimer, it was back in high school and I was trying to play straight back then."

Franco rolled his eyes and took a sip of his wine, "Of course I have kissed a girl.... Not the first party I've been at guys" he said looking to the floor and clearing his throat, "Never have I ever had sex with a girl" and he smiled, he'd been close with an old friend  but it just never happened.

Benji laughed, giving a small smile. "Platinum Star Gay, thank you. Not even close." He set his cup down on the table, then turned to Toph, both to see his reaction and to hear what his first 'Never Have I Ever' would be.

"Yeah, no." Topher tapped the armrest of his chair as he considered his question for a few moments then a Cheshire Cat grin crossed his features. "Never have I ever given a stranger a fake phone number," and with that, he took a sip of Pepsi.

Franco watched Topher drink and raised an eyebrow, "Better not have been me" he warned, a half joke to his tone before he drunk his own drink and nodded, "Some girls can be crazy".

Benji took a large gulp of his drink, then laughed. "That one I've definitely done a million times. The joys of being the 'type' of every creepy gay from here to Greendale." He took another sip for good measure, then gave his next prompt. "Never Have I Ever played a sport. A traditional one, I guess. Dance, Krav, and Free-Running aren't like... sports your whole team goes to championships for. Well, you kinda do for dance. But it's different." He could tell by the rambling that he was already getting tipsy. Maybe two cups to start was a little too much. ...Had he eaten today?

"I don't recall giving you a fake phone number. But I've definitely given one to around five girls and three guys," Topher addressed Franco then gave his Pepsi another sip when Benji's question got his attention. "Soccer and ice hockey. Dance too. Band if you count that," he rattled off then took a moment to set his Pepsi down and lightly stretch. He didn't want to fall asleep too soon and bring the night to an early end, plus he just generally wanted to move around a bit.

Franco drank his drink and nodded, "Boxing. Always has been. Used to box all the time" he explained. He thought for a moment about his next one, so many good ones bringing back memories he'd rather forget, "Never have I ever smoked weed" he asked, downing the rest of his drink and watching the other two.

Benji hesitated, but then took a gulp of wine, already a little too tipsy to better pace himself. "I've never smoked weed, but I've definitely... y'know, partook," he started to laugh at himself and his odd wording, then took a sip again, not remembering if he already had. "But only once. And never again."

Topher gave a light chuckle as he shook his head. "Never have and never will," he answered then gave his next question a few moments of consideration. "Okay, here's a zinger. Never have I ever snuck into a party. Just for the sake of it, school dances from back in the day also count."

Franco raised an eyebrow, "You really think that's a zinger? Sneaking into a party?" he asked. If they thought that was a zinger, then they were very wrong, "I don't even need to drink cause I never needed to sneak anywhere".

Benji gave a confused look as well. "I mean, I've definitely needed to sneak places, but a party? Like, you weren't invited but came anyway type thing? I've never actually wanted to go to parties in high school. Being one of the only Southsiders going to Riverdale High... those guys were dicks." He waved off the thoughts of high school and leaned back as he thought of another question. "...Never have I ever gotten a lap dance?"

"What can I say? Don't really get out much and I don't mind forking over money for a ticket or as an entry fee," the former Serpent fired back as he gave a shrug then shook his head once again. "Again, I don't really get out much and have never had that sort of opportunity pop up, if that makes any sense whatso-fucking-ever. C'est la vie, guys, c'est la vie."

Franco smirked and bit his lip, drinking a large amount of his drink and looking back up, "I would have done you all the favour of lying about it but you know, Benji would have known if I was" he said. He couldn't believe he'd said it and he dipped his head, not wanting to the looks on the boys faces as they cottoned on to what he said. He thought about his question, "Never have I ever, had sex in a car" he asked, before drinking more drink

"Baby, shut up!" Benji replied quickly, lightly swatting at Franco. "It was one time. I had just come back from a party and I was a little tipsy. ...For someone who hates being in charge, you sure liked it. That's all I have to say," he added, taking a sip of his wine before he realized what he had let loose. "Errr, I meant--...I'm kinda drunk already," he slurred.

"And that is my cue to leave," Topher remarked in a semi-joking tone as he pushed himself out of his chair once again. "By the way, not actually walking out of the house. Just going to the kitchen because I'm hungry." Not a complete lie, he'd been feeling rather peckish for the last few minutes. "Never have I ever lied about myself in order to get a date," he called then took a drink. Again, trying to play straight during high school.

Franco laughed and bit his lip, "Hey, you were asking for it" he said once Topher was out the room, "I only insinuated what happened, you went for it big style". He heard the question called back and took a drink, "I lied to you by saying I wanted to wind up".

Benji laughed harder--if he wasn't already laying down on the sofa, he probably would've fallen over--"I didn't mean to! I'm drunk! You know how ramble-y I get when I'm drunk." When Franco spoke again, he shrugged. "That's barely a lie. You came clean as soon as I tried to go on a Tinder date with someone else. ...Doesn't matter anyway, the stupid app kept deleting itself from my phone. Glitchy piece of crap," he murmured, sipping his wine.

As Topher walked back into the living room with a container that held some of his grandma's chocolate chip mini muffins, the Tinder comment caught him off guard and he had to stifle some chuckles. He'd forgotten all about his multiple covert operations of deleting the app in question from Benji's phone. "But hey, do you guys want to take a tiny break to snack or do you want to keep the game going?"

Franco shrugged his shoulders, "I'm not all that hungry if I'm honest" he admitted, his appetite had been lacking recently, "I think I'll just drink and watch some TV". He still hadn't felt comfortable, the game not really relaxing him at all.

"Muffins!" Benji shouted, sitting up from the couch to grab a handful out the tin. He started to eat them, far too gone to notice any of the tension in the room. Still chewing, he leaned back onto the sofa, a smile plastered on his face. "We can just talk if you want!" He grinned, "I love you guys... you both drive me wild. I'm glad we're trying this whole thing out, but if it doesn't work, just tell me, okay? I don't want anyone unhappy."

Topher gave another light laugh as he sat back down in his chair and answered, "Love you too Ben. I think we're off to an alright start so far, but I'll keep you posted if anything changes. Don't want either of you to be unhappy either." As he took a few moments to eat a muffin, then a second one, his thought process started to drift. 

"But I do believe that I promised you guys some apologies and the first one is sorry that I couldn't have picked a better time. But I do want to make a blanket one from the bottom of my heart. I'm incredibly sorry for my past dickish behavior. I wish I could explain away what happened, but the truth is I honestly don't know and you guys might have differing opinions for why I did it. All the same though, I do mean what I'm saying right here and right now. I want the best for you both and even though I'm far from it, I'll do my best to bring something to the table with this whole poly deal."

Franco tried to ignore the 'I love yous' from the other boys but he had to take a deep breath as he did, "I said I would try didn't I? Give me a chance to try" he said, a grumpy tone to his voice. Franco scoffed at the apology, "Pretty sure the thing you were meant to apologise for was punching me in the face? You know, when you gave me a bloody nose". 

He paused before adding, "You want to know something Topher, it isn't easy being with me. I'm an ex addict, I get mood swings and cravings and I can be nasty when I do. I have night terrors from the time I was kidnapped, which you know all too well about cause you were there when it all went down... You can't react by punching me in the face every time".

Topher rubbed the back of his neck as he listened to Franco then took a deep breath as he started to choose his words very carefully. "And I'm sorry for that, I'll forever be sorry for that. We're all learning here in different ways and at different paces. But I'm more than willing to put in the work to help us all come together. I'm more than willing to have your back, continue setting aside past differences, and adjusting to the present." 

"I'm a real rat bastard when I want to be, that punch was more than enough proof of that. I can't turn it off completely, but it can be focused elsewhere so I can work on making things better between us. I do want to make things right, starting here and now. So you have my word that I'll learn better ways to handle things and once again, I'm sorry for punching you."

Benji was still drunkenly eating the last of his muffins during Franco outburst, but by the time Topher had responded, he had finally finished, swallowed, and started to sit up so he could look both of his roommates in the eye. "This is good," he said, trying his best to be a mediator, but the slur in his voice made it difficult. 

"If we wanna move forward, we need to air all of this out. It's the only way we can discuss ways to address everything that's happened, grow from it, and make sure not to do it again. ...Does anyone wanna air anything out about me? We're not gonna move on together until it's all out in the open, y'know."

Franco scoffed, "No, I don't have anything to say about you babe, cause you are the one who's dealt with my shit for too long now". He turned his focus back to Topher, "You knew what I'd been through Toph, you knew the hell I endured when I went missing. You know I've never fully recovered. Physically I'm fine but mentally, I'm fucked. Punching me in the face, cause I was freaking out... Not cool dude. You know the nightmares I had over that shit?". He paused and pushed himself upwards, "I can't do this right now" he said, tears filling his eyes, "I need a cigarette and five minutes to myself" and he headed to the front door.

"I also don't have anything bad to say about you Ben," Topher responded in his usual calm tone then managed to nod in understanding way as he listened once again. A few thousand more reassurances loaded themselves on the tip of his tongue, but he could barely muster up the courage. Finally though, in a low tone, he added, "Again, I'm willing to learn from my mistakes so I can handle things better down the road. It won't happen again." "And you can hold me to that. Both of you," he remarked as he pulled his sweatshirt hood up over his face.

Benji frowned--he wasn't expecting their first interaction as a trio to end up like this--especially with him too drunk to properly mediate. However, what's done was done now. At this point, the best thing the three of them could do was recover from this bump as smoothly as they could manage--in Ben's mind, they was they moved from this moment would be a great indicator of whether they were all wasting their time trying to get this relationship to work. 

 "Okay, Baby. Take a quick smoke break. We'll be here to talk more when you get back. Don't take too long," he said softly, turning to face Topher. "Don't cover your face," Benji reprimanded lightly. He already had a plan on how to try to give Topher a crash course on how to deal with Franco when he gets like this.

"Why shouldn't I?" Topher simply inquired, yet he pulled the hood down just a hint all the same. He was torn between remorse for past actions and annoyance that apparently, he couldn't do anything right. "I'm in territory that I shouldn't be in," he muttered under his breath as his blue eyed gaze trained itself on Brooklyn 99 once more. His mental gears were already turning and it was taking all of his resolve to take off for his room like a little kid.

Benji sighed, sitting up so he could look in Topher's eyes as well as possible given how off-balance all the drinking had made him. "Listen... Franc is a really tough egg to crack, but once you do, he's just the sweetest little cuddlebug you've ever met with just the perfect amount of sass mixed in," he waved off that comment--he was getting off topic. "He's been through a lot. Parts of it I know, parts of it I'm still finding out. And it makes him act out and hold grudges. But you've also caught him at a weird time because he's just started therapy a few weeks ago, so he's learning how to use different coping things, just not in the... 'most ideal' order. Like what just happened. A month ago, he would've never spoken so clearly about what was upsetting him. Before, he'd either just shut down or purposely try to rile you up. So it looks and feels harsh to you, but it's actually a good thing. And I promise that if he didn't want to actually give this relationship the try it deserves, he wouldn't've addressed what was making him angry so eloquently. I've only ever seen him do that with me as of now, so keep that in mind. You're not nearly as far in the shit as you think you are." 

He leaned back as he continued, "Secondly, Franc keeps grudges. For what feels like forever. And when he reverts back, he brings them up. You saw it with the handcuff thing that got you into your mess. It's how he copes. Is it the most ideal thing in the world? Of course not, but everyone has flaws. The best thing you can do is be aware that he does that and if/when it happens, instead of getting upset, just remind him that you've already apologized and that what he's doing isn't fair. Eventually it'll work. And lastly, the best thing you can do for Franc is to just be there as much as possible and constantly remind him that you're there for him.Acknowledging that you wanna improve and learn from your mistakes is nice, but that's more my Love Language than it is Franc's. Franc wants attention, Franc wants affection, and Franc wants to know that people aren't going to leave him. He's... kinda like a kid that way--" he shrugged. He felt bad using the comparison, but with as drunk as he was, he couldn't formulate a better one--"In fact, sometimes I swear he brings things up and picks fights like that because they're subconscious tests he does to make sure we're not gonna decide he's too much and leave him one day. ...Or maybe not. I'm about 3/4ths through a bottle of wine at this point, so who fucking knows." 

He sighed, then stared down at the cup in his hand for a second. He probably shouldn't drink the rest of that, right? He shrugged, gulped it down, then continued: "My main point is this: shower him with love and affection whenever you can. Start with verbal until he's ready for something deeper, then know that the first time you cuddle him, he's never gonna want you to let him go. Do that, work through the hiccups and the tests as calmly as you can, and you'll be surprised at how much love he gives you back once he's ready to. He's my little muscle lovebug. I wouldn't change one thing about him."

Topher nodded along as he listened to what Benji said and did his best to save those mental notes about Franco for later. After all, this was a learning experience, like he'd said. The former Serpent was all about learning new things, absorbing information and always trying to get it from all sides of the story when the moment called for it. But at the same time, his fucked up self esteem just had to crawl out from the back of his mind and twist everything around. 

That Franco and Benji were better off without him among many other similar, colorful remarks. Instead, he just took another deep breath then pulled his hood back up again as he responded, "Thank you for the info. I'll be sure to keep it in mind for the future. Don't know if I've said this before, but if I have then fuck it, I'm going to repeat myself. You are one of the sweetest people I know, Benji Karofsky, and I hope you never lose that quality because it's something that I will always love about you."

"I love you too," Benji whispered, leaning in and cupping Topher's cheek, pulling him into a kiss.

Topher returned the kiss and for a just a few moments, allowed his mind to drift to much better things.

After a few moments, Benji pulled back, looking lovingly into Topher's eyes. "I can't believe I actually get the best of both worlds. I've got to be one of the luckiest guys alive," he whispered, giving Topher another soft kiss.

"I do declare that we both some of the luckiest guys alive," Topher answered before he gave a soft kiss of his own. "Don't know what I'd do without you and all that related, sappier than maple syrup business."

Benji playfully rolled his eyes. "You're so cheesy. But I love it." He kept his hand cupped around Topher's cheek for a second or two longer, then let his hand finally fall, laying back down on the sofa. "I think this relationship is gonna be great once it really starts going. I can just feel it."

Topher plopped back in his chair and gave a light smile of gratitude. "Love you too and I couldn't agree more. I do have a touch more hope for the near future than I did at the start of the night, I'll be the first to admit that. Fingers crossed that once things are on the fast track to getting better, great things will start happening."

Franco had sat on the steps outside, smoked 3 ciggerettes to calm himself. His hands were a little shaky but he knew it was his bodies way of coping with things. He didn't know how to be a little adult about this? How do you watch someone you love, love someone else. 

 He re entered the apartment and gulped, "Look. I ain't saying that I'm gunna jump into this and throw myself into a heap of upset and hurt, cause that's just not me. I want to make this work. I can't change who or what I am or what happened to me in the past and I can't help how I cope with that shit either". He turned to Topher and walked towards him, "You gotta understand, you saw me after what happened. You came to the hospital when I was laying there with broken bones and didn't look a thing like I do today. You watched me recover and then watched me fall to pieces, so you gotta give me time yeah? My life seem to give up" he said with a pause, addressing both men in the room, "First I'm kidnapped and left for dead, then I'm saving Dares life when I was still injured, then I'm a junkie who has to go through withdrawal and now this... it's a lot to take in a few months. So give me time yeah". 

 But it didn't matter, his speech didn't stop his body reacting and within seconds, he was at Tophers side, smashing there lips together.

Topher had started to formulate a response after a new round of attention-confirming nodding, but the kiss from Franco totally caught him off guard. It was fine though, more than fine because he'd honestly run out of things to say without repeating himself. Plus, this was part of the whole poly thing that they were trying out. Twice the amount of kisses, twice the amount of just about everything. Although the latter part was just a theory that remained to be confirmed or denied. Everything aside though, he returned the kiss.

"Wooo!" Benji shouted, giving the boys a round of applause. Obviously his alcohol consumption had made his reaction more comedic than normal, but this didn't change the fact that this happening was exciting for me. At the end of the day, he wanted the three of them to be together and happy; this was a great start, albeit a little out of nowhere.

Franco pulled away from the kiss and nodded, feeling pretty damn proud he'd tried. He stepped backwards and took a deep breath, "I told you I would try" he said to Benji, "And I'm trying to be a man of my word babe".

"And like I said, I'm more than willing to do my part as well. After all, team work makes the dream work," Topher chimed in. He held a hand out to Franco then the other was offered to Benji as he added, "I've got both of your backs, no matter what."

"Alright. You guys are having too much fun without me. I'm coming in," Benji teased, taking Topher's hand and pulling himself into the middle of Topher and Franco, wrapping his arms around both of them and pulling them into a close circle. He gave them each a dramatic kiss on the cheek, smiling brightly.

Franco took Tophers hand, and then turned to kiss Benji as he joined them, "It's the closet thing your gunna get right now to working on it" he said, "You might wanna warn him about me though babe".

"Don't worry," Topher started then trailed off in order to return Benji's kiss. "And you both should know that no warnings will stop me and whatever lessons there are to be learned, I'll take them into account."

"It's gonna be a bumpy ride, but we'll work through it." Benji said with a smile, still holding them both close. "I love you, Franc. I love you, Toph."

Franco stiffened slightly when Benji said he loved Topher but he took a breath and loosened his shoulders, "I love you too Benji and I like you Toph" he said, trying to show his changes, "Excuse me boys, I just need to..." But he slid out of the hold and started walking to the bedroom.

"Love you too Ben and like you too Franco," Topher answered then watched as the latter slipped out. He cast a slightly confused glance at Benji before he whispered in the lowest tone possible, "I know you probably just covered this, but do we follow or what?"

Benji looked at Topher for a second, then at the doorway Franco had just left through, then back to Topher. "I'm... gonna be honest," he answered, equally as quiet, "he definitely wants someone to go after him. And I'm, like... spacing out-levels of drunk. So, want your first real test?" he offered.

"In that case, off I go," Topher replied then leaned over to press a kiss to Benji's forehead. He pushed himself out of his chair one more time and headed off after Franco. "Yo, Franco, wait up."

Franco had climbed onto the bed when Topher caught up to him, "Sorry man but he said I love you and that is just, a little too far" be breathed out. His hands were shaking and he knew drinking and his past was the cause, "I wanna love you Toph but I just can't".

"It's alright," Topher responded as he took a few more steps into the room and sat down on the bed. "I know that I sure as hell haven't made it easy to love me recently, but you've got nothing to worry about in that department. Whatever happens, I will respect your decision and I mean it."

Franco sighed as Topher sat on the bed, "Toph, you know being with me is a rough ride. I'm not easy to handle, I act out and I can be horrible when I'm not getting what I need. Drugs are in my past, but I have urges and desires and if I'm caught wrong, I'll do whatever I can to get out to get them... Can you even handle that".

"You underestimate how much I'm willing to walk though what might be basically hell for the people who matter most to me or those affiliated with said people," Topher fired back, although his tone lacked any evidence of a real desire to start an argument. "I've got your back just like Benji's got your back, simple as that. Through the good, the bad, and in between." He held an arm out in an unspoken invitation for a side hug.

Franco shook his head, "You don't get it do you" he breathed out, "I'm not a good person. Benji deserves so much better and now he's got it, what hope do I fucking have" he spat. He knew he was being harsh but he couldn't handle this, "I might as well give up"

"Franco, dude, please try to slow your roll. You and Benji have been together longer, okay? You have more romantic history with him and you two are fucking engaged. Logic dictates that if it came down to it, you have a better chance than I do," Topher stated in his usual even tone. "You're a far better man than I am in a variety of other ways. I'm not walking away and I'm not backing down from this stance."

Franco raised an eyebrow, "Says the man I actively encouraged him to keep away from by convincing him you were straight when I knew different. He was majorly in love with you and I fooled him into believing you were off limits".

"And I'm willing to move past that. Hell, I've already moved past that," Topher started as he changed tactics and held a hand out to Franco instead. "I'm not asking you to love me right off the bat, okay? I understand that I've made more than my fair share of dick moves recently and it might take some time to move past it. All I want is to work on building trust with you again, building a friendship. Your lead is the one I will follow, just like Benji's. I will listen to you guys and won't walk away just because things hit a bump in the road. I've already said I've got your backs, so please give me a chance to follow through on it." "You won't regret it," he simply added a few beats later.

Franco moved forward and took Tophers hand, "OK so you gotta not say you love him in front of me right now, I can't handle it and it's like I'm watching him fall out of love with me". He took a breath and sighed, "Toph, one day I'll love you but there is so much you don't know about me".

Those few words felt like someone tossed a few darts into his heart in rapid fire style, yet Topher gave a light nod of agreement. "Alright and it's okay. I'm willing to wait, willing to learn, willing to do all that. However long it takes," he answered. With that, he gave Franco's hand a light squeeze along with a small smile.

Franco nodded, "You can say it when I'm not there, cause I know you love him but it's just super hard for me to hear it" he breathed out. He bit his lip and nodded, "Look dude, go back and have fun yeah, I'm just gunna chill for a minute".

"Yeah, gotcha," Topher responded as he stood up. "I mean, if you'd prefer me heading back then that's cool. But before I go, are we cool? Like, we're on the path to making things better between us and all that slash you won't be upset if I go back to the living room?"

Franco nodded, "Dude we are fine I just want five minutes to chill out before I come back. Why don't you go give him a kiss or something? Whatever it is you guys do".

"Alright, I'll go do that or something similar. Think I'll just chill and watch a bit more of B99," he remarked then gave a light yawn. "Then after that, it is off to bed for me."

Franco nodded, and waited for Topher to leave before jumping up and darted over to his chest of drawers, rummaging for his supply and clutching it in his hand. He didn't need to use it, just needed to feel it was there.

As luck would have it, Topher had just reentered the living room when he realized that he'd carried his Pepsi back into the bedroom. So he made his way back, only to stop right in his tracks when he spotted Franco. "I'm kinda frozen to the floor here, can you hand me my Pepsi please?"

Franco's eyes widened and he shook his head, "No...It's.... Shit Toph, it's not what you think it is" he said, quickly hiding it in his jacket. This was not going to go well for him, "Toph, please do not... Just... Fuck, pretend this didn't happen".

"Not what I think it is, huh?" Topher inquired once he finally found his voice again. He leaned against the doorframe as he crossed his arms and arched an eyebrow at Franco. "Look, I imagine that we're all tired here so I'll just drop it and grab my Pepsi then walk out like everything is normal. But I do want to talk to you about this as soon as possible, okay?"

Franco took a deep breath and nodded, walking over to the bed and grabbing the drink, handing it to Topher and leaning in a little close to him, "You gotta not fuck this up for me Toph, I can't handle this right now" he breathed out, fear coursing through his body, "Please Toph" he begged.

"First, thank you," Topher stated as he accepted the Pepsi then listened and his features softened just a hint. "Second, please don't make me regret giving you the benefit of the doubt. Ben's got enough on his plate right now and I want to make things work with you, that's why I'm not screeching like a banshee. But I want to talk to you about this later and I want to help you get past this whole using drugs thing." He started to leave, but then decided against it. "On second thought, do you mind if I stay here?"

Franco took a breath, "I'm not using drugs, I just have them" he explained quickly, "And I'm not stupid, I know you want to stay here so you can go through my stuff. All I have is what's on me right now" he breathed out, "Nothing more, nothing less".

"I'm not going to go through your stuff," Topher promised as he held up the hand that held his Pepsi bottle. "Got no free hands for that and even if I did have one, I'm giving you the benefit of the doubt, remember? Besides, I hate it whenever people go through my stuff and that risk is what makes me jumpy when someone asks to borrow my phone or laptop. Long story short, I get it."

Franco raised an eyebrow, "Then what the hell do you wanna stay in mine and Benji's room for?" he asked, confusion on his face. He shrugged his shoulders, "Fine, you know, do whatever you want. Not like I got anything to hide in here any more" he said simply, turning on his heel and leaving the room.

"Mostly to keep an eye -," he trailed off when he noticed that Franco had walked out. Topher gave a sigh as he followed him out then headed for the living room. "And there goes progress," he remarked under his breath as he plopped back into his favorite chair and proceeded to tap his fingers against the armrest in order to expel some nervous energy.

By the time Topher had made his way back into the room, Benji, in all his drunken glory, had managed to fall asleep. However, his best friend plopping down next to him managed to shake him awake. "Huh?" he questioned groggily, slowly sitting up as he started to rub his eyes. "Toph? Where... where's Franc?" He yawned. "Did you guys make up?"

"Yeah, we made up and we're hopefully on the fast track to making things better. But I'm pretty sure I just set progress back either a bit or to square one," Topher answered. "Franco? You still in the house?" Then as he carded a hand through his hair, he addressed Benji once again, "I promise you that I'm trying to go with what you told and learn as I go. I'm just a chronic idiot when it comes to stuff that isn't book smarts."

Franco walked back into the lounge and smiled a fake ass smile, sitting in his previous seat and looking at the floor. He did not trust Topher right now and gulped, "Yeah just needed a moment. Thought I could handle it.... couldn't" he said playing with his hand.

"But hey, now I know what to do in order to ensure smooth sailing," Topher replied with a soft smile. He had no intention of making things worse and planned on keeping his mouth shut. But after a good night's rest, there were more problems to be tackled, which was what he definitely wanted to do as soon as possible.

"Don't be so hard on yourself, Toph. I'm sure things are fine," Benji replied sleepily, curling back into a ball on the sofa. He stayed silent for a moment, then finally processed what Franco said. "...couldn't handle what?"

Franco narrowed his eyes at Topher and shook his head, "Just you two babe. I kissed him so I'm trying but I couldn't handle seeing it. You know me, a big old pathetic let down" and he stared directly at Topher as he said those last words.

Topher had been the middle of yanking his hood up once again because there was no way he was moving from this chair, even if his bed was much more comfy. But Franco's words caught his attention and the hood fell right back down. "Franco, that couldn't be further from the truth. Neither of you are a let down and even if it takes me a thousand encouraging words to convince you of that, I've got all the time to say them," he responded in a meaningful tone.

"Franc, if you don't want to do this, you can say no. I don't know how many times I can stress that, Baby." Benji sighed. "Maybe I integrated things a little too fast. We'll be a little more private about the affection for a while. But the same's gonna go for you and me, y'know. It's only fair," he explained, hoping that would be a good compromise. As he re-closed his eyes, he couldn't help but smile lightly at Topher, happy he was trying to kill Franc with kindness like he suggested.

"Whatever you guys think will work best," Topher remarked before he yawned and stretched in the chair a little as he did so. "Sorry guys, but I'm going to call it a night. But I believe tonight was an alright first step and things can only get better from here as long as we keep hashing things out, making progress, all that." Another yawn escaped then he murmured, "Night Benji, night Franco. Stay cool, but not cold."

Franco scoffed at Topher and stood up, "I think I'm gunna head outside for a bit and have a smoke" he said, almost testing the other man, "I'll see you in the morning... Where are you staying tonight Benj?"

"Night, Topher. Good job tonight. Hit the showers," Benji teased, starting to sit up when Franco spoke again. "Uh. No you're not. You just had a smoke. Come on, we're going to bed too." At Franco's question, Benji couldn't help but make a face in reaction. "...I'm staying in my bed. Just like every night. So c'mon."

Franco sighed and shook his head, "I wanna smoke babe" he said, clenching his jaw a little. He saw the look on Ben's face and nodded, "OK, you'll stay with me tonight... But soon you won't? How am I meant to handle that? I'm trying Ben, I even kissed him but it's just... It doesn't matter"

"Franc, don't you get it? I know you need me to fall asleep. I'm not sleeping anywhere but my bed with you." Benji rolled his eyes, then sighed. "Maybe we should just call this off, huh? You're not handling it well and it feels like it's putting a strain on us. There's no point in doing a relationship this complicated if it's not healthy, Baby."

Franco nodded, "I don't need you... I just wouldn't sleep" he tried to defend himself. He rushed over to Benji and shook his head, "No baby, I don't want to call this off, I'm just scared and worried and I don't know how else to deal with his other then acting out babe"

"Not being able to sleep is exactly why you need--" Benji started, cutting himself off in surprise when Franco rushed towards him. "What is there to be scared and worried about? Our relationship hasn't changed. We've talked about this over and over." He sighed, "Franc, If we're gonna keep this arrangement, it needs to be healthy--which means we need to be able to talk things through openly and rationally. You don't get to act out every time you get negative feelings. It's not fair to Toph. And it's not fair to me either, although it's my fault for humoring it as much as I have been."

Franco shrugged his shoulders, "It's just in my head babe that I might lose you or something and it freaks me out cause I'm just getting shit back on track". Franco sighed, "I know babe but I'm really trying. People who are in recovery shouldn't even have relationships and here I am trying to juggle two of them... It's hard and I need space to breathe every once in a while"

Benji couldn't help but rub his temples in annoyance. He loved Franco, but dealing with this over and over was getting tiring. "I don't know how else to say this: this poly relationship is not something that would make you lose me. For the millionth time." 

 He turned to look at Franco, "Yes, it's hard. I understand. But I give you space to breathe every time you need it, multiple times a day. Do you think this is easy for Topher either? Of course not. But he doesn't have a temper tantrum every time you and I interact with each other." He sighed. He really didn't want to open up this can of worms, but playing nice was showing to be ineffective. He tried to choose his words carefully as he continued, "I understand that there will be bumps, but there's a difference between a road having bumps and acting like the road's made of gravel."

Franco shook his head at the words, "I don't think it's easy for him but he's used to it. He wasn't in this relationship the whole time we have been" he breathed out. He took a deep breath and shrugged his shoulders, "I'm trying. I kissed him. I spoke with him. I'm sorry that my brain struggles to comprehend everything that is going on".

Benji pinched the bridge of his nose, struggling to keep his annoyance from being too obvious. "Let's just... go to bed, okay? We've done enough tonight."

Franco sighed, "You go and I'll meet you in there" he spoke out, "I just really need a cigarette right now"

Benji threw his hands up in defeat and stood up. "...Fine," he murmured, turning and starting to head for his bedroom.

Franco sighed and went down to smoke. He needed to hide his drugs again and somewhere different. He finished up and went back upstairs, nudging Topher, "Hey, you gunna come to bed" he asked, knowing he needed to play nice, "You can come with us but I get the middle" he offered.

One of Topher's eyes opened then both when he heard Franco and felt the nudge. His sleep addled mind didn't want him to move anymore from his favorite chair, but he also knew that he'd regret it if he didn't. Plus he wanted to help make this work, didn't he? So Topher gave an understanding sort of nod as he pushed himself out of the chair and headed off for the bedroom.

By this time, Benji was facing his dresser, changing into a pair of pajamas. "Hey, Baby." he said to the sound of footsteps, not bothering to turn around. In the back of his mind, he knew he needed to stop babying Franco at some point, but he also knew that that day wasn't going to be today. "Cuddle time?"

Franco had walked through to the bedroom with Topher and pushed him in the direction of Benji, "Cuddle him" he'd breathed as he'd made his way to the bed, laying down in the middle, shurugging of his clothes and dropping them on the floor until he was only in his boxer shorts

Topher lightly stumbled, but managed to recover his footing then started to rest his head on Benji's shoulder before he second guessed himself and just leaned against the dresser. "Fair warning to you both, I talk in my sleep," he remarked in between yawns. "Feel free to roast me for what I say or don't. Whatever."

"Toph?" Benji questioned, turning around when the head on his shoulder felt different than what he was expecting. "You're sleeping with us? Awe, this is perfect," he said happily, wrapping one arm around Topher and starting to drag him towards the bed. "Franco in the middle," he stated, clamoring onto the bed and opening his arms for both Topher and Franco to climb into.

Franco was already in the middle of the bed, "Yeah I thought he might not wanna sleep on his own tonight so invited him in with us" he said and then gave a small laugh, "Of course I'm in the middle and, if this works out, then I'm always in the middle".

Topher's tired mind almost made him jump when Benji started to lead him toward the bed and he almost started to voice the obnoxious amount of potential concerns, yet his mouth remained closed. He shuffled over to the empty side then climbed into it. "This might sound weird, but hell with it. Thank you both."

Benji smiled softly, moving the boys so Franco was cuddled into him and his arm was wrapped around Topher’s back. “I’m sleeping well tonight,” he whispered, squeezing them both close.

Franco felt a little out of place but kept himself wrapped into Benji, "Clean slate" was all he breathed.

"The cleanest slate possible," Topher sleepily mused before he drifted back to sleep once more.

[howterrifying]

+sherlolly because...mycroft is love

I think it's no surprise now to those of you who know me that I love Mycroft. This story is basically 90% Mycroft, or what I like to call 'Mycroft-centric', but set to a background of blossoming Sherlolly. It ended up Mycroft-centric because I've always had an issue with the way Mycroft was always made fun of regarding his weight and this rumoured love for cake. I got so fed up that I decided to write this to subvert all the things that had been said about him. I love Mycroft but I also particularly love writing Molly and Mycroft having a sort of real kindred affection for one another and a deep understanding between them. What can I say, they're my ultimate brOTP. :) Still has nice Sherlolly moments tho. So if you've come to read this, thank you so much! xx

:: CONTAINS SERIES FOUR SPOILERS ::

Hunger  ( also on FF.net and AO3 ) The cake place, as Sherlock had called it, was a simple cafe that Molly had picked for its low human traffic and of course, its delicious cake. The three of them, Molly, Sherlock and John, were halfway through their little birthday-do for the detective when John received a call from Mrs Hudson regarding little Rosie.

“It seems she’s running a fever,” said John, returning his phone to his pocket, “Sorry guys but I’d better dash.” After settling his share of the bill with Molly, John rushed out of the cafe and hopped into the first cab he could find. At this hour, the cafe really was quiet. Now that John had left, the number of patrons reduced from three to two. “So, how do you find this…cake place?” asked Molly, smirking slightly at him. “I appreciate the lack of humans,” answered the detective, “So you’ve chosen well again, Molly.” “Are you saying I’m not human, Sherlock?” Molly remarked in mock indignation. “No— No, no, I just meant—” “Relax, Sherlock,” said Molly with a laugh, “I know what you meant.” Sherlock smiled. Of course she would know what he meant. Sometimes, Sherlock was sure she knew him better than he did. He wanted to tell her he particularly appreciated the lack of humans because it meant there was nothing to disrupt his concentration on his time with her. Perhaps he would tell her another time. “I considered inviting Mycroft,” said Molly, taking a bite of cake. “It’s a good thing you didn’t,” Sherlock remarked swiftly. “Why? Would he spoil the mood of this invigorating party?” she said with a laugh. “In a way. For starters, there’d be no cake left,” said Sherlock, smirking as he sipped his coffee. “Food has always been my brother’s weakness. Molly stopped to ponder what Sherlock had said and something did not sit right with her. “Hang on.” Molly said, putting her fork down, “Are you implying Mycroft was greedy as a child?” “Well, obviously. I never imply.” said Sherlock. “You should’ve seen him then.” “I have, actually. He’s shown me pictures.” “Since when?” asked Sherlock, frowning slightly. “Your brother and I have a good friendship, Sherlock,” remarked Molly with a smile. “It’s what saved you that afternoon of your fall, you know?” “As you both never cease to remind me,” said Sherlock, rolling his eyes. “You never cease to forget,” Molly shot back. A tricky silence fell between them for a moment. Sherlock, sensing that he had been callous again with what was clearly a very serious subject matter, poured Molly a fresh cup of tea, intending it as a peace offering. He pushed it gingerly across the table to her, softening his expressions slightly to convey his apologies, causing Molly to laugh. “It’s fine,” she said, accepting the tea gratefully, “I am genuinely curious though, why would you say that about him? I cannot see Mycroft ever having been that way.” “Are you sure you saw the right photos? Because if you had, you would definitely see why,” explained Sherlock, “He was always eating, for as long as I can remember, guzzling everything like his life depended on it. I don’t even think he was hungry when he ate sometimes—” “Ah.” “What?” “You’re absolutely right there,” Molly remarked thoughtfully. “Sorry?” “That he wasn’t always hungry. And certainly not greedy,” continued Molly. “Do you know why he was, as you say, guzzling all the time, Sherlock?” Sherlock paused to look at her, trying to see where she was going with this question. He started thinking back on all his memories of Mycroft polishing food off his plate and constantly reaching for food. “What did your mummy always use to scold you about?” Molly asked quietly, as though coaxing the memory out of Sherlock. Sherlock blinked hard at the question that certainly was not hard at all. There were many answers to that, but what was Molly driving at? “The usual, I suppose. Not wiping my muddy wellies from when I would play pirates at the beach… Or dissecting any dead rats I’d find in the traps using her steak knives…” “You don’t remember, do you?” asked Molly, leaning forward with a curious gleam in her eyes. “Remember what?” “You see, Mycroft did such an excellent job you never got chided for it ever again.” This was a puzzling statement and the detective frowned in response. Knowing Molly was going to continue, Sherlock stayed quiet, knowing that now was not the time to act smart or make possibly inaccurate deductions. Clearly, there was something she knew, and he did not. “Look down at your plate. How many bites of cake have you had?” The detective followed her instructions and stared down at his plate. Depending on the angle one took to look at it, no one would have suspected the slice of cake had had a bite taken out of it. “I ate the cherry. And I had a corner of cake. I might have another bite, seeing as sugar is the only high I can afford now—” “And what would your mother say,” Molly interjected, “if she could see your plate now?”

Memories were a funny thing. Sometimes, they remained buried with no chance of recollection whatsoever. Yet, in some cases, they sprang back to the forefront of the mind once the right switch was turned on. The memory played in Sherlock’s head like a perfect piece of cinematography. All the sights and sounds and smells came rushing to him as he suddenly recalled one particular night at the family dinner table. He could not have been more than four years old, but Sherlock was brilliant after all and had a vast store of memories from a very early age. Dinner had been served and while he had been hungry after a full afternoon playing outside in the garden, he had refused to eat a single morsel of his food. Sherlock’s brilliance had a setback, and that was the frequent and immense sensory overloads he would experience. The great speed at which he processed things was directly proportional to the tremendous sensitivity he felt towards his environment. Suddenly, Sherlock was acutely aware of how repulsed he had felt that one evening at dinner; how the creamed spinach felt too wet; how the boiled potatoes were too yellow; and how the carrots and gravy seemed to merge into the same colour and it just did not feel right. In his attempt to make his food palatable and not disturb him so much, Sherlock had tried prodding at it, rearranging it, mixing the colours or mixing the textures to find a combination that did not send his hairs standing. Then, a huge sharp pain had interrupted his rearrangement of his dinner when Mummy tapped the edge of a wooden spoon against his tiny knuckles. In an equally sharp voice, she had asked him sternly why he had not taken a bite of his food and chided him for being fussy and for playing with his food. The rude shock of her harsh voice and the slight throb in his knuckles had caused tears to well up in the eyes of young Sherlock. He remembered the tears and the frustration behind them because he had truly been hungry at the time but simply could not bring himself to eat the food before him. Such a struggle was something Mycroft had also been all too familiar with. After all, were they not of the same make? An infinitely more brilliant mind like Mycroft’s had dealt with the same battle of his senses and how they affected his experience of life. Everything that had plagued Sherlock as a young genius had also affected him before, except now, with seven years ahead of his younger brother, Mycroft had learned to manage. Whether it was the noise, the people, the food, the scents - Mycroft had learnt to manage. As tears had continued to spill from Sherlock’s eyes, he did his best to obey his mother, not wanting to risk hearing her terribly hard voice or another rap to his knuckles. Reluctantly, Sherlock had begun lowering his fork into what he perceived as neon yellow flesh of the cut potatoes on his plate. However, just as the silver prongs were about to poke through the powdery cube of potato, Sherlock remembered seeing Mycroft deftly reaching over, switching plates with him. Sherlock had stared in shock at the empty plate in place of his, while Mycroft had begun quickly devouring what Sherlock could not.   “He couldn’t have been hungry…” Sherlock murmured as the memories continued playing in his head. Molly merely lowered her heard and smiled. She could tell he had ventured somewhere obscure in his Mind Palace and did not want to disrupt this particular trip down memory lane. Once dinner time had been over, Sherlock was starving but relieved that his brother had saved him. Mummy had seemed pleased that all her children had finished their meals and had cheerfully cleared their plates. Mycroft, knowing that his brother would have been absolutely ravenous by now, had stolen into the kitchen and nicked a few ginger nuts from Mummy’s cupboard. There you are, Sherlock, Mycroft had said to his little brother. Nice and dry, these. And I picked the least lumpy ones of the lot, just the way you like them.You mustn’t go to bed hungry. It seemed this first memory then triggered a whole deluge of similar incidents. All of a sudden, Sherlock remembered not wanting to eat the honey on toast at tea time one afternoon because the honey had not felt ‘ready’ and its colour was all wrong and so had refused to touch it. His piece of toast had gotten so cold that the honey spread on top of it had almost turned to glass. Again, Mycroft had swept in and grabbed the toast off his brother’s plate, leaving it empty before Mummy could return to the dining room, sparing Sherlock another shelling from her. In these memories, Mycroft was still always eating, always stealing biscuits and cake  and stuffing his face with tremendous speed and almost with a sense of desperation. Except, it was neither hunger nor greed which motivated those responses. “You’ve spoilt my appetite now, Molly…” muttered the detective, as his recollection of his childhood slowly began to clarify. “Because now you remember how much Mycroft loves you?” teased Molly. There came coughing and choking sounds as Sherlock reached for his coffee and took a big dramatic sip, as though it could wash the thought away. Molly suppressed a chuckle but continued to speak.

“I know it’s hard for you, but I just— could not sit idly by and have you think he was some greedy, food-obsessed child,” Molly began. “He merely wanted to protect you. And still does.” Sherlock raised a cynical eyebrow before taking another slow sip of his coffee. “Are you about to suggest I do something about this?” he asked, eyeing Molly suspiciously. “I know that look in your eyes.” “Well, you could just call him, tell him you love him,” joked Molly. “Are you trying to kill me?” asked Sherlock with a smirk. “Would it?” Molly asked swiftly in return. “Would it actually kill you?” Her question was a weighted one, and it made Sherlock sigh quietly. He picked his fork up and took another bite of cake, chewing it slowly and thoughtfully.

“Maybe you should practice,” said Molly with a gleam in her eyes. “Practice?” he asked. “Hello, Sherlock,” she began, smiling at him. “Uh, hello…Molly,” answered Sherlock instinctively but a little unsure. “I would do anything to protect you,” she declared, “Because I love you. Now, what would you say in return?” He glared at her incredulously, amazed at how she was able to say such words so easily. How did she make something so heavy appear so light and effortless? Sherlock shook his head and chuckled softly. “He would never say that to me, you do know that right?” said Sherlock with a laugh. “It’d kill him.” “That is true,” Molly replied, “But you never know, Sherlock. One day, you or Mycroft might find yourselves literally at gunpoint and you’ll wish you’d done something.” Sherlock paused to reflect on her words. He certainly could not deny that his memory of Mycroft had been incomplete, resulting in the present-day misjudgement of his brother. Mycroft had never been greedy, had never enjoyed the taste of honey, and would have never taken more than he was allowed to. It frightened Sherlock that he had gotten something so fundamentally wrong about his brother, about his own history. He shook away the even more terrifying thought that there might be more he could have missed about their childhood. Sherlock made a note not to delete things from his memory too impulsively anymore. “I think you’re right, Molly,” said Sherlock at last, looking up at her. Molly smiled and gestured to his plate. “You going to finish your cake then?” she asked. “Yes, I think I will,” Sherlock replied, smiling as he picked his fork up. — The air was cold and daylight had yet to break. Sherlock stood outside the large mahogany doors and waited. Right on schedule, the doors opened and out stepped Mycroft, decked head to toe in his black running gear and wearing a look of surprise on his face. “What are you doing here?” asked Mycroft, “Has something happened? And why are you in running clothes?” “Same reason you’re wearing them,” answered Sherlock. “What, you’re here for a jog? At five in the morning?” Mycroft exclaimed, still somewhat in shock at seeing his brother, “Aren’t you usually at the morgue trying to show off to Molly Hooper or something?” “She does the day shifts now,” Sherlock answered without missing a beat. “And then you take her out to dinner in the evenings?” joked Mycroft. “On occasion, yes,” Sherlock replied unflinchingly, secretly relishing the look of surprise in his brother’s eyes. “Well, good for you…and good luck to her,” said Mycroft, “Now, if you’ll excuse me—” “Mycroft.” “Yes, Sherlock, what?” Suddenly, Sherlock could not articulate why he had come to see his brother. Perhaps it had not been clear to him either, but after everything Molly had made him realise, he knew he had to do something. “Mind if I joined you?” he asked. “We won’t have to chat, will we?” said Mycroft, raising an eyebrow. “These grounds are quite large and I should like to concentrate on conserving energy for my run, if you don’t mind.” “No chatting, just running,” said Sherlock with a nod. “Then I don’t see why you can’t,” Mycroft replied, nodding in return. It had been a quiet run, the two brothers side by side as they made their way around Mycroft’s entire estate. They returned, panting slightly as they stepped into Mycroft’s equally palatial kitchen. The older Holmes brother opened his refrigerator where its only contents was a single glass decanter of freshly squeezed juice. He poured himself a glass, knowing his brother would not be interested in any. To his surprise, his brother came to join him, pouring himself a glass too. “I brought you something,” said Sherlock, after he had downed half the glass of juice thirstily. “Whatever for?” asked Mycroft with a laugh. “Here,” said Sherlock, tossing a dark brown packet to his brother. “What’s this?” asked Mycroft. “Breakfast,” said Sherlock. “They’re ginger nuts,” said Mycroft. “Exactly,” Sherlock said with a quick smile. “I used to have them for breakfast, remember?” Mycroft paused to look up at his brother carefully. His puzzled frown soon softened into a small, warm smile. Mycroft looked away and stared out of his kitchen window into the green of his estate. “The bacon looked like twigs, you’d said. And the eggs were like ‘monster eyes’,” Mycroft recalled wistfully, “You were so small and frail.” “And you were the opposite.” “Yes, I was,” said Mycroft. “Mycroft.” “Yes?” “Thank you.” “You’re welcome.” Both brothers turned away, both unaccustomed to any such displays of emotion, but were smiling secretly in the knowledge that the other was not looking. Their silence was interrupted by the crackling sound of a plastic packet being opened. “Fancy a ginger nut?” asked Mycroft, holding one out in his hand. “For old times’ sake.” “Seeing as I haven’t had any breakfast…” answered Sherlock, taking the biscuit from his brother. “Yes, I will have one.” Mycroft reached into the packet and took one for himself too. The two brothers stood where they were in the kitchen, quietly crunching on their biscuits. “Remind me, will you, Sherlock?” Mycroft said, suddenly. “To do what?” he asked, gesturing for his brother to pass him another biscuit. “To thank Molly Hooper,” answered Mycroft, hunting for a ginger nut with a texture agreeable to his younger brother. “Of course.” “Maybe I’ll take her out to dinner,” joked Mycroft, eyeing his brother. Sherlock stared back icily at Mycroft, inciting a laugh from him.   “I jest,” said Mycroft, offering his brother another carefully selected biscuit. “I certainly hope you are.” “Well, I wouldn’t want to undo what’s she's managed to accomplish.” “Hmm. Yes.” Mycroft smiled as he put the packet of biscuits down and walked casually to the sink to wash his hands. As the sound of running water filled the quiet kitchen, Mycroft thought about everything that had transpired that morning and could not help but smirk to himself. When he was finished, he turned the tap off and the kitchen went quiet again. “That said, brother mine,” Mycroft remarked, sauntering over to dry his hands on a small towel, “While it’s taken you about thirty years to offer me biscuits, I don’t recommend you take the same amount of time regarding Molly Hooper.” “What, to offer her biscuits?” said Sherlock, scoffing slightly. Mycroft laughed. Sherlock really was the idiot. “I believe it is words you have to offer her,” Mycroft said with a knowing half-smile. “Say them while they still mean something to her.” “Are both of you trying to kill me?” Sherlock exclaimed. “Believe me when I say, Sherlock, that if you didn’t,” Mycroft explained, “That might kill you first.” “Are you speaking from experience?” asked Sherlock, scoffing. “Perhaps,” Mycroft answered coolly. Sherlock stared at his brother, perplexed at his words. What frame of reference did his brother have that he did not? Was there more that he had missed from their childhood? Their adolescence? “It was from my time at MI6,” said Mycroft, answering the question in his brother’s head, “I’ll tell you another time when you feel like we need another…breakfast.” “Hmm, yes.” “Now, please, just take my word for it and go,” said Mycroft, waving his little brother away. With a smirk, Sherlock stole one more ginger nut and turned to leave his brother’s colossal home. With his free hand, he took his mobile phone out and began to text. To his surprise, she had texted him first. How did it go? - M It was fine. - SH Oh, that’s wonderful then. - M Where are you now? - SH On my way to the Bart’s refectory, why? - M Mind if I joined you there? - SH What? For lunch? - M Yes. Lunch. - SH But you never eat. - M It seems I have to once in a while. - SH What made you change your mind? - M My brother said it might kill me if I didn’t. - SH He’s right, there. - M So, the refectory? - SH Yes. See you soon then. - M See you. x - SH !!!!! - M :) - SH

[vsplusonline]

‘I am an actress who acts the part of a cook’: Madhur Jaffrey

New Post has been published on https://apzweb.com/i-am-an-actress-who-acts-the-part-of-a-cook-madhur-jaffrey/

‘I am an actress who acts the part of a cook’: Madhur Jaffrey

I had been fretting over the prospect of interviewing Madhur Jaffrey at the Jaipur Literature Festival (JLF) from even before I boarded the flight early this year. The reason is shameful: my knowledge of cooking begins and ends with boiling Maggi noodles.

What could I possibly ask the cookery legend who single-handedly changed the way the West thinks about Indian cuisine with her BBC show and cookbooks? But I had a fallback ready: Shakespeare Wallah, that deliciously decadent 1965 Merchant-Ivory film about a British theatrical company in post-Independence India for which Jaffrey won the Silver Bear for Best Actress at the Berlin International Film Festival that year. I couldn’t wait to hear what she had to say about working with James Ivory, Ismail Merchant, Ruth Prawer Jhabvala, and, above all, Satyajit Ray, who had composed the film’s music.

When I see the petite lady walking towards me in the authors’ lounge at Diggi Palace hotel, I have a déjà vu moment: this is Manjula from Shakespeare Wallah — the same dangerous eyes, the same wicked half-smile — only, this time, she is dressed in an everyday salwar-kameez rather than the chic attire of the Bollywood diva she played in the film. And she declares cattily, if a bit wearily, that she will keep the interview short with “chhota chhota” replies, deflating my enthusiasm.

A performance

The first question I ask is how she would like to define herself — as an actor, a writer, or cookery expert. Pat comes the reply: “I am an actress who acts the part of a cook.” So is there a distance between her ‘real’ self and her cooking persona? “There’s no distance as such but I am also watching myself. And it’s a kind of performance because I am really an actress.” And what about her writerly self (Jaffrey is the author not only of some 30 cookbooks but also of the delightful memoir, Climbing the Mango Trees, about growing up in a sprawling, affluent Delhi family, surrounded by sumptuous food in the final years of the Raj, and Robi Dobi: The Marvellous Adventures of an Indian Elephant, a children’s book, among others)? “Even while writing, I am trying to be as honest as I can, which is also something an actress does. Be honest and clean and clear, instinctive, intelligent — all the qualities you want in an actress, I bring to my writing too, I hope,” she says.

Earlier that day, I had attended Jaffrey’s session, ‘Climbing the Mango Trees: Food and Memory’, with author Chandrahas Choudhury, where she had talked about how she first started cooking — out of necessity rather than passion. Once she had left the comfort of her home for London, to join the Royal Academy of Dramatic Art in 1955, everything changed. “There is this pea-green smog that comes in at 3 o’clock and you see nothing. This was just after the War, and the food was simply awful. I was dreaming of hing jeere ki alu or bhara hua karela while having some watery cabbage mess or transparent roast beef at the canteen.” Out of desperation, she started writing letters to her mother, asking for recipes. Jaffrey tells me later: “I wasn’t taught cooking. I am self-taught through my mother’s handwritten recipes. But I must have had a good palate, although I didn’t know the word ‘palate’ at the time. I could instinctively translate a three-line recipe into a dish and through trial and error I got it right.”

Food memories

From 1973, when Jaffrey wrote her first cookbook, An Invitation to Indian Cooking, a lot of preconceptions and misconceptions about Indian food in the West have changed, so much so that chicken tikka masala is now arguably the national dish of Britain. What is Jaffrey’s take on this? “Some people have learnt nothing, but there are many others who have read my books and their attitude to Indian food is a little different now. When I cooked on TV in England, attitudes started changing. England is filled with people with Indian blood who are hardly aware of it but I think some memory, some historical connection, stays. The show just brought back memories for them. America doesn’t have this connection. The British never liked Indians but they liked Indian food.” She adds, “I have three generations of Westerners and Indians who learnt to cook from my books and taught their children, and now those children are cooking for their children from my books. It’s very gratifying.”

Does she relate to the term, ‘foodie’, as it is used now, involving, for the most part, Instagram posts on the food one is having in fancy restaurants? Jaffrey scoffs, “That I think is being obsessed with taking pictures of food and showing off. The younger generation is very much into that little gadget you have there [pointing at my phone] and into sending around what they are doing to all their friends — it’s a new attitude that I don’t have. I don’t want to tell the world what I am eating, I just want to enjoy it.”

While we are on changing worlds, I pop the question about her Shakespeare Wallah days. Her eyes light up. She says, “I was very young, I introduced James [Ivory] and Ismail [Merchant] to each other in England, we were all friends. The initial plan was that my ex-husband, Saeed Jaffrey, and I would go back to India and start a touring theatrical company there. Jim said that was a wonderful idea for a film and we would sit and discuss it in his apartment. Then he went to India and met the Kendals, whom he wanted in his film. But what would happen to me? So Jhabvala [the story and screenplay writer] created the character of Manjula so that I could be in it as well. That’s the story. When Saeed and I were divorced, they were very angry with him, so they kicked him out.”

Like a serpent

Did she see the Silver Bear coming for her performance in Shakespeare Wallah? “No, not at all. When the award was announced, everybody was shocked since they expected Felicity Kendal to win and not me. I said, what can I do? Jim said, go apologise to Felicity. I felt great but also felt bad…,” she says, smiling mischievously. Then I get to the question I was itching to ask: how was Ray?

“I interacted with him later in funny ways, but not during ShakespeareWallah. Jim conceptualised me as a serpent in the film and, if you notice, Manjula’s entry is always accompanied by a serpent-like music — that’s what Ray did for my character, that much I know. Much later, when Shakespeare Wallah was getting an award from the President in Delhi, I was there with my father, who was telling his friends disparagingly, ‘Iski toh hobby hain (acting is her hobby),’ as was his wont. My supposed escort turned out to be Marlon Brando, who was my hero! Brando and Ray sat on either side of me, talking to each other across me. I tried to speak but whatever I tried to say was wrong. So I told myself, chup baithi raho, inko baatein karne do (sit quietly, let them talk). I didn’t have much to say, I was so scared of them.”

After such a long reply, Jaffrey looks visibly exhausted and I try to wrap it up. “Do you still cook at home,” I ask her. “Yes. Though I would rather somebody else did it now that I am 86. But they won’t make it as well as I do.” She leaves me with an admonishment when I confess my cooking prowess: “Kyun nehi sikhti ho? Ghar mein koi sikhanewala nahi hain or you don’t want to learn? (Why don’t you learn? Don’t you have anybody to teach you at home?) You have to learn to cook some basic things, even if it is one sabzi, chawal or roti — something simple that you can enjoy. Somebody teach her.”

anusua.m@thehindu.co.in

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