#brooklynislandgirl

[honorhearted]

@brooklynislandgirl

The last time he'd seen the Rileys together under the same roof, the air had been cold and crisp, with the comforting scent of smoke billowing from the woodstove. If Benjamin closed his eyes, he could still recall how his hands felt that afternoon, chafed and chilled, while cupping the warmth from his hot drink.

But just like that winter day in 1770, the cold prevailed while Benjamin coaxed his horse along the once-familiar path. Although he'd trodden this road many-a-time, there wasn't any eagerness nor excitement to be found. No, it was grief that donned him akin to a burial shroud, and clutching his reins, he dug his heels into Artillery's hide with more persistence, a sting of dread swelling within upon spotting the manor along the horizon.

This house, this rolling land...for a moment, it was almost too much for Benjamin to bear. Despite being a resident of S.etauket, he and his father, Nathaniel, and brother, Samuel, had often traveled to visit with this family that was so near and dear to their hearts. After his mother's passing, they'd been exceptionally welcoming, even offering up their home for more than a fortnight.

It bothered Benjamin that it was now his turn to deliver ill tidings. The note he carried lay heavily in his coat pocket, needling him, burning him, as he rode. W.ashington had offered to send another man in his stead, knowing of Benjamin's close ties to the Rileys, but it was this familiarness that made him all the more adamant that it had to be him -- no one else from camp knew nor loved Andrew in the way Benjamin had, so it was his responsibility.

After he pulled up to the manor and dismounted, he could feel his heart dipping down, down, in tune with the disappearing sun in the sky, his limbs no longer trembling from just the cold as he rapped on the door. The brass knocker in his hand felt heavy, akin to a death knell, and upon doffing his hat, the door opened and revealed the face of the long-time family servant.

"Crosby," Benjamin greeted, his voice tight. "Is Mr. Riley home?" When the older man merely gaped at him, he earnestly entreated, "Crosby, it's me: Ben T.allmadge. Please, I must see him. Or Elizabeth, if he's unable."

The sound of an opening door garnered his attention, and lifting his eyes toward the top of the stairs, Benjamin faltered once a young woman came into view. Despite years having separated them, there was no denying that this was Elizabeth Riley, Andrew's younger sister. This was the girl he'd teased mercilessly, calling her "Longshanks Lizzie" due to her (short) limbs she had yet to grow into. During the summertime months, that moniker always changed to "Bran-faced Beth" due to the faint, charming little freckles that littered her skin. They were always present, but became far more pronounced during their trips out to the Sound.

It took Benjamin a moment to realize he was gawking. The last time he'd seen her, she'd been a girl, a child, and now... His heart faltered. Throat bobbing sharply, he curled his gloved hands into fists and exhaled. Now, he would be forced to hurt this woman with the sharp edge of truth. Only this time, unlike their playful quips and schoolyard banter, these words would not be said in a manner that could be taken back. These words were indelible.

"Beth," he greeted, his voice hoarse. As Benjamin moved toward the foot of the stairs, it felt as if he were marching toward his very own execution. His heart drummed erratically inside his chest, and twisting his tricorn between his hands, his eyes grew wet within the spill of candlelight. "Beth, I..." Swallowing around the words he wished to blurt -- your brother, my dear, dear friend is gone -- all he could manage was a plaintive, "May we speak privately?"

[bothsidesofaquestion]

What did Kurt think of himself as, before Xavier brought up his mutation? Does he still identify in that old way, or is he more apt to identify as mutant? What sort of relief or anxiety did he journey through to get to his current headspace about it?

miscelaneous asks | always accepting

There is nothing in canon that have at least hinted how Kurt saw himself before he was told he was a Mutant (Giant Size X-Men #1)

You can see in issues that address the circus glimpses of his life however they're often focused in some character development and to add some background to a current event and nothing else so, this is mainly my own headcanon:

When he was a child, Kurt thought he was magical. Margali made him believe that and, as he grew older and learned she was indeed a witch, it made more sense.

In his late teens, he wasn't sure anymore. The only thing he is certain is: he is different and that he is not a freak until Jardine for being caged and treated as one, something really messed up with his mind.

Yet the world mutant was there, lingering around, you can see when he is rescued how confused he is when the boy that rescues him says he is also a mutant. (Nightcrawler 2004 mini)

I'm trying to tie all the knots to come up with a cohesive background for this blog though, cause he's had changes in his origins to the point things contradict certain situations that happened in previous issues so I won't elaborate yet.

But the period he spent at the monastery, healing and hiding, made him realize he is worth of God and that he is not so different from everyone else (another headcanon of mine, will elaborate as soon as I manage to come up with a decent timeline)

He wasn't a child anymore and, despite having powers ( he had already learned how to teleport ) he knew he was not a magical being but certainly not human. He suspected he was a mutant but he was confirmed of this by Xavier when he recruited him to his team.

And that's when things began to make sense but that also caused another series of conflicts I should elaborate in another post otherwise this could be 10 pages long!

[bewitchingbaker]

𝕊𝔼𝕏, 𝔾𝔼ℕ𝔻𝔼ℝ, & 𝕃𝕆𝕍𝔼 ℍ𝔼𝔸𝔻ℂ𝔸ℕ𝕆ℕ𝕊 𝔽𝕆ℝ ℚ𝕌𝔼𝔼ℝ* & 𝕂𝕀ℕ𝕂𝕐 𝕄𝕌𝕊𝔼𝕊

Note from original creator of meme, and key*this is for lgbtqia+ muses if your muse is cishet this isn’t the dash game for you it was created by a queer mun for queer musesbold: always, italic: situational, strikethrough: never

Let's get this shit

The Bewitching Baker || Chris Luna

♡ GENDER IDENTITY: cisgender / intersex / gender-nonconforming / transmasc / transfemme / transman / transwoman / nonbinary / gender-fluid / genderqueer / agender / demi-girl / demi-boy / bigender / pangender / omnigender / two-spirit

♡ SEXUALITY: queer / gay / lesbian / bisexual / pansexual / omnisexual / asexual / androsexual / demisexual / fluid / non-labelled / graysexual / gynesexual / homosexual / monosexual / polysexual

♡ DATING PREFERENCES: monogamous / ethically nonmonogamous / monogamish / relationship anarchy / open relationships / polyamorous / doesn't date / dates casually

{{Chris tends to prefer monagomous relationships. Poly isn't exactly his style since that's alot of personalities to juggle though he doens't judge those who do. However, Chris doesn't mind casual dating and 'talking' (that could include small dates or casual sex) as long there's honesty and safety. }}

♡ ATTACHMENT STYLE: secure / anxious preoccupied / dismissive avoidant / fearful-avoidant

{{Dating Chris is a fun experience for the most part. Fun dates, good food, open minded in the bedroom, a great listening ear. However, Chris sometimes gets anxious when the topic of his emotions comes up. Due to not exactly being heard or having his anger downplayed, Chris gets anxious about being angry with someone or at least voicing what he wants. When he feels like he's getting too clingy, he might preoccuby himself with work for his partner or at the bakery to avoid being annoying.}}

♡ SEXUAL INCLINATIONS: sex favourable / sex adverse / sex indifferent / hypersexual / sex-repulsed / bottom / top / versatile / vers bottom / vers top / service top / power bottom / stone top / pillow princess / submissive / dominant** / switch / brat / baby girl/boy / soft dom / pleasure dom / caregiver

{{Chris may be a shy bean but he's kinky. Though he doesn't mind a partner who has him begging for them and telling him what to do, he can lead when he needs to. One second you may have him on his knees, the next he'll have you bent over his couch whispering nasty sweet nothings. Sort of whatever you need him to be. As long as you're feeling good, Chris is happy. }

♡ LOVE LANGUAGES: words of affirmation / quality time / acts of service / receiving gifts / physical touch / activity / appreciation / emotional / financial / intellectual / practical

{{ There's nothing more Chris loves than sweet words from his partner. Especially while baking something his partner loves. Chris is the kind of guy who always makes it known how much he loves his partner. Pretty much making sure they're comfy and loved while they're with him}}

♡ PHYSICAL ACTS OF INTIMACY: holding hands / kissing / cuddling / massages / bathing together / washing partner's hair / skin on skin contact / forehead kisses / playing under the table (e.g. hand on thigh, footsy etc) / playing with partner's hair / playful tickling / seeking them out in bed to hold / eye contact / reading to your partner / being read to / napping together / couch cuddles while doing separate activities (head in lap etc)

♡ KINKS & TURN ONS: dirty talk / quiet in bed / loud in bed / having hands pinned / pinning partners hands / having hair pulled / pulling partners hair / being watched / watching their partner / voyeurism / receiving oral sex / giving oral sex / receiving penetration / giving penetration / praise kink / biting / marking up your partner / being marked up / impact play / edge play / teasing / being teased / using toys on partner / having toys used on them / choking / being choked / being restrained / restraining their partner / shibari / breeding kink / worshiping their partner / being worshiped / humiliating / being humiliated / degrading / being degraded / pegging / being pegged / frotting / face sitting / dom/sub dynamics / DDLG dynamics / aftercare / anal / bdsm / light bondage / outdoor sex / sensory deprivation / roleplay / rough sex / threesomes / wax play / sensory play (eg. pinwheels etc) / knife play / blood play / caging / cbt / sounding / collars / exhibitionism / rimming / pet play / dressing up for partner / partner dressing up for them / daddy kink / mommy kink / master/slave dynamics

{{Chris is super shy. But that's a different story in the bedroom. While he may beat around the bush when he wants to do bedroom activities. Once he's in the bedroom however, he's a kinky little bean. Talking dirty to his partners (sometimes in spanish), making them look at him while he's pleasuring with them, and even giving them dirty but sweet praises when they...finish for him. While he can be dominant and easily manhandle alot of his partners, he likes someone who can throw him around just as much. His past partner's often had him wrapped around their finger with a surprise bite to his neck, finger in his mouth, or simply pinning him down randomly. If you really want to get him going, tease him. Lead him on for a bit and when you really have him begging for you, tease him with promises of another time. He'll be all yours. Or just tell him you're gonna sit on his face. Now the baker is often safe, usually having all sorts of condoms (different brands, types, etc) he does like finishing in his partner. Though the fear of having kids early gets to him, he's had the opportunity to finish one partner (she was a vampire who long since had her tubes tied and she surprised him with it) Usually when he has some fun with his partners, he likes walking away like he's left a small scuffle (scratches, bite marks and hickeys). Now Chris likes some rough stuff but he's not the biggest fan of bdsm, like being tied up and too many degrading words. He'd probably cringe if someone called him daddy or asked if he wants to call someone mommy.)}}

tagged by: stolen from @brooklynislandgirl

tagging: steal the tings!

[morgansmornings]

Kill, betray, have on your zombie apocalypse team: Martin, Luka, Coulson

This Meme: Accepting @brooklynislandgirl

Honorable Mentions: @whosxafraid, @riggsanity, @tangleweave

~~~*~~~

“Oh, you just had to go there, didn’t you?” Jayden squinted at Beth, picking up her crochet back up now that she was back from getting them snacks. The soft sounds of a cello playing over the surround sound system. Just noise to fill the space without having to listen to lyrics. Now that the paperwork was done the girls had moved to the couch in order to bask in the mid-morning sunlight coming in through the wall of windows. 

The soft  clacking of Beth’s knitting needles going making Jenna’s ear twitch every now and then. Just another step in the pattern of tie spent together.But she would give this thought just as she had a few hours earlier. There were so many pros and cons to sort through. Each is heavier than the next. And there is a wiggle of her nose as she sorts them in her mind. 

“I suppose there are a few ways to go about this. But I think this is what I would do.” Jay finishes the current row she is on, pulling excess yarn through the loop to keep her place when she decides to come back to it. Turning she throws herself across the span of the couch. Fingers tracing out a fake map on Beth’s skirt as she begins. 

“First I would have to kill Uncle Coulson. He is way too pure for the world. And if everything has gone to shit then the best thing for him is to pass on before he can take on the shitshow that is an apocalypse.” The next is a hard choice no matter what she does, but still she thinks the outcomes are worth it. 

“Betray Luka. Because even if he hates me, he is married to you so he will only try and kill me half the time.” Jay plots her chin on her palm as she gets lost in the patter of the skirt for a moment. “And clearly I have to keep Martin. Someone has to be the comic relief and comfort if nothing else. Besides I can trust him to do what needs to be done if I get bit.”

[detectivewoof]

58. feel good inc - the gorillaz || @brooklynislandgirl

He hated these loud bars for a reason.

Too many smells, too many noises, and it wasn’t like he could even get drunk in the first place. Sure, having a sip every now and again didn’t hurt, but Manny felt like he stood out like a fucking flamingo. It was a miserable time, but then again he had agreed to come along with Beth…

Though he couldn’t help but wonder if there was a nefarious reason he hadn’t exactly been let in on.

“Y’ take another shot from that group, I’m liable to be carrying you outta here.” He indicated the far corner of the bar for good measure. “Nothin’ wrong with that, but just saying because you strike me as the kind of woman that at least likes a little dignity no matter how sober you are.”

[kit-just-kit]

Hognose: What is the cutest thing your muse does for themself? What about for others?

🐍Snakey askssssssss........

*For herself - her spa days are vital! They recharge her batteries which are often drained completely due to her work. Plus, she Kit feels that she looks good, her mood is vastly improved (a by-product of how dangerously low Sebastian's regular negative comments made her!)

For others - gift-giving is totally her love language. She'll find literally any excuse or occassion to go out and pick something both unique and relevant to the person she's treating. And while she can border on being a touch too 'cash-flashy' at times, she also ensures that any present she gives is something they need, love and appreciate!*

[ronmanmob]

The bar gremlin is back. All big eyes and sly grins when things slow down enough to permit the barman a moment to chat away. She comes in enough to be considered a regular ~a vodka tonic or the occasional sea breeze~ and their circles overlap often with the people they share in common. She's mostly harmless, isn't she? Except the way she leans across the bar, something cherry-syrup sweet in her voice as she stage whispers in his direction. "So...how's ya firs' kiss wi' Baz, den?"

First Kiss Meme

"Oh my darlin'-" Ron enthused, well-used to the visits of this specific bar gremlin; sweet and harmless despite how her questions sometimes veered into territory most private. Despite how this one most definitely had though, he turned from his work shining newly cleaned glasses and poured every ounce of charm and welcome into how he approached her - all open body language, smiling eyes and lips and the flash of teeth as he came near; leant his weight into the bar; made to confide--

"It was gorgeous--"

It was in the locker room of Baz's gym. They'd fallen into a routine after work, after training; Ron tending to Baz's wrists, hands and forearms; each joint salved with Tiger Balm; each tendon and muscle warmed, carefully stretched and massaged; wounds cleaned and dressed.

"--Soft-"

Not a word was spoke between them; between Ron and his aspiring champion. They didn't speak much by nature anyway - not either man. And they found in each other a kind of understanding that meant they didn't need to, to be understood. A look did it. A change in pressure where they touched - Ron sat as he was on a low stool between Baz's knees so he could best reach where he needed to reach.

"--Came natural-"

And it had. Come natural. It'd almost come natural more than once the last few days. Tiny moments spent gathering courage. Little testing leans in, little tilts of the head toward each other, little...chanced braveries that'd either been bottled or interrupted, but not this one. Not this time.

"--Took me breaf away-"

Not a superlative. After dancing round each other for as long as they had, feeling their way closer inch by inch, time by time-- When they found themselves alone at last, leant close as the work Ron was doing required, all it'd taken was a tilt of the head. Each of them had at once, though the synchronicity was accidental. Perhaps a thought had come on that needed words to express right. Perhaps they'd wanted a better look at each other. Perhaps, perhaps...It didn't matter. That first tilt, they both pulled up short; noses brushing, a hushed-

-Sorry-

-escaping one of them, though which...It didn't matter. The other shook his head, then tilted it purposefully to turn that just-gone brush into a nuzzle. They both smiled in millimetres, listed closer as if drawn by gravity. Between them, another word-

-Please-

-and that tore it. Their lips met, and all Ron knew then beyond Bastian's taste was the ecstatic weight of want-come-relief-come-affection that settled right the way through him. It--

"--It was..."

Ron caught the words he might've said, closing his eyes a moment and shaking his head. When he focused on his bar gremlin again, his expression was soft with the affection he felt for the man he'd been talking about.

"--'Ee's...a fuckin' joy, luv. 'Onestly."

[chiefofstafftanner]

Pain he could handle, general discomfort sure. Bill hated feeling weak. He hated when his body felt heavy and the air around him felt thick. Bill hated that he struggled to breathe. He also hated being still, having to lay in this hospital bed and fall farther into his head than he needed to be at the moment.

It was too easy to remember things that he needed to stay buried.

@brooklynislandgirl

[tabbyrp]

Day 29: Tarot

“It’s said that the shuffling of the cards is the earth, and the pattering of the cards is the rain, and the beating of the cards is the wind, and the pointing of the cards is the fire. That’s of the four suits. But the Greater Trumps, it’s said, are the meaning of all process and the measure of the everlasting dance.” ― Charles Williams

[kylo-wrecked]

🥂{💋} It's minutes after some hour she can't really read on her watch because she's lost her glasses.... Again.

And when he saunters into his demesne something like the spirit of Morrison possessing a sleek sort of panther, all swagger that is only really exhaustion attempting to outrun itself ~he learned long ago how to fake it to the very last~ Beth is really glad he doesn't have... company. Instead of boots ten miles too high and a ransom of neon spandex, in place of black glossy vinyl that would be forced to make mountains out of molehills only with the right corsetry, she stands in oversized fuzzy flannel pyjama bottoms and a faded Red Hot Chili Peppers tee-shirt {Stadium Arcadium tour, sixteen years in the past}. She offers him up a little plate, on it toast that is still just that, melted butter and honey dripping down the sides. She thinks it's funny. "Happy New Year."

{ 🎁 You know you want: Music!Ben }

His swagger could be an anthem in faking it till making it or just how drunk he is. He smells like a bar. Tobacco, cedar wood, the bite of something medicinal. Every lacquered plaster wall in his moon desert pad rings with the sound of another all-new year, or that could be his ear. Would be gnarly if that was the ear.  

Ben Solo haunts his own apartment, a slow-moving, glitzed-out ghost. 

After stumbling into some chalky owl's burrow to drink from a tap, he stumbles into the sight of Beth Riley standing in his living room like a single mast of light, one leg tucked meekly behind the other. Wide-eyed in her flannels and band shirt, with a china doll smile and a china doll's way of presenting a plate, three-quarters turned. 

Ben leans the square of an allover sequin embellished viscose shoulder into a surface he knows isn't solid at all. He moves his palm up and down the wall, closes his eyes. Shadows hide the marbles of broken blood vessels. 

"Happy New Year." 

Could be January first or January third. Special k was a time-bender that way. New year, new moment. He couldn't remember five hours ago—success. But he could still remember the shrill on I-15. The smell, not unlike toast at first. 

It is funny. 

The little plate is funny. Beth. Funny. Ben doesn't remember inviting her over, leaving her here, but he must have. He must have moved stupid quick and given her his door pin, or she wouldn't be here, in her little PJs, offering him a slab of honey butter toast on a doll-sized stoneware plate in her little hands.

He approaches gradually. There's music in his hesitance, too, though the shine is all shirt, not him. He's death in designer duds, looking for blood. 

"Why are you so small?" He considers Beth with a smile in his eyes that has made other women threaten violence. He considers the toast. "Maybe I'm just too much. Just too big."

But he couldn't possibly have said that—it's not something he'd ever say. 

Ben bites a crust off the treat; warm honey runs down his lip. He swallows and wipes at it with his hand but misses the bead in the corner of his mouth. Not like he doesn't know it's there. 

Till the very last breath could be a toast. 

He laughs at the shirt. 

"Take that off," he slurs, bends to do away with it, and clumsily yanks it up Beth's stomach, revealing her sleek obliques and narrow belly button, the silver knobs of each piercing. Ben does smile when he spots those. (* He doesn't know if he wants to suck on them or if the desire is a memory. His mind is a tunnel, too.*)

As he and Beth struggle over the hem, the collar pulls a little, the faded iron-on tents and warps in their grappling. Beth's heels lift off the floor. She drops the plate, and it bounces on the space-grey carpeting and rolls and clatters on its face in the dark, but she won't let go of his hand. 

They both know Ben could rip off the shirt as easily as he could toss Beth across the room. Still, even in their scuffle, a game is at play. If she won't let him, he won't do it.

Somewhere in that blue night scuffle, their mouths meet with the taste of honey and powdered metal.

@brooklynislandgirl

[butnobodyhome]

<3 <3 <3 <3

Thank you, Turtle ❤️

[honorhearted]

@brooklynislandgirl continued from (x)

The campgrounds were swathed in glittery white, yet Benjamin took no joy in this. Winter only brought on death and decay and frostbite and starvation, and even with the much-beloved memories of skating with Samuel out on their pond, inhaling their father's comforting scent of smoke from tending to the fireplace, and huddling together underneath blankets awaiting molasses c.ookies, the warmth that had once filled his chest at such thoughts felt tainted...improper. How could he even think of happiness when so many still suffered, and some under his own command?

But then he saw her -- Beth, his home away from home, stepping lightly along the wooded perimeter with a determined bustle to her gait. Even when at peace, she appeared much like a woman on a mission, lost to all in thought, if not word and deed.

The sight of that familiar furrow between her brows made him smile. He'd seen it many-a-time when they were children, and most especially when he'd mocked and teased her for trying to be like "one of the boys." On one particular occasion, he and Andrew ambushed her with a barrage of snowballs, trapping her along the side of the Riley manor. His aim had long since improved...

Quiet and stealthy, Benjamin lowered to start compacting the powdery white between his gloved palms. Even now, Beth was still blissfully unaware of her pending fate. Catching his bottom lip between his teeth to fight back a grin, he crept closer and fell into step behind her, intent on the element of surprise.

Once Beth turned to make her way toward the woods, Benjamin chose that moment to a.ttack. He wound back his arm, then hurled the snowball in an arc of blistering white. The makeshift w.eapon e.xploded across her cheek in a powdery puff of slush, and once she jerked in a startled lurch he laughed, his eyes crinkling warmly around the edges. Laughter was no longer a sound he was accustomed to -- the mirth felt strange and unnatural bubbling inside his chest, and yet it was there all the same, cradling him with the comforting reminder of life before the w.ar.

"Ach, Captain T.allmadge!" she exclaimed. "You are a dead man if you dunna start running!"

"That's Major T.allmadge to you!" Benjamin fired back. Noting the way Beth was intent on getting an a.rsenal of her own, he was quick to dive back toward the ground, gathering up as many snowballs as possible. Almost blindly, he started to fire them in rapid succession, not really intent on any particular aim, so much as landing each of his blows. From a tactical standpoint, he knew he should swarm her -- there was no way she could withstand his classic move from boyhood -- but something in him wished to give her a fighting chance; wished to see her laugh and smile and triumph after such a cold, unforgiving winter.

[bothsidesofaquestion]

🍒  + southern-belle-outcasts

send  me  🍒  +  a  url  and  i  will  write  some  positivity  for  them. | accepting

::ooc:: Tagg is one of my biggest supporters since I started to rp as Kurt in this place. They're an amazing writer, artist and friend! Someone that is worth to have around and I thank them for been there for me whenever I need it the most.

@southern-belle-outcasts

[bewitchingbaker]

💚 + Beth and Chris

[Beth is Chris's childhood friend and first big crush (in every verse). A nurse, fellow witch, and kindred soul. Much like the baker, she's had her fair share of experience with loss but she continues to live and grow with it.

While they parted ways upon graduation, they still kept in contact. Keeping each other company through all night study sessions, sharing memories and laughs. When Andy passed, Chris was on the first plane to Brooklynn to comfort his friend. Despite the tragedy, it felt like nothing changed between the two. But Chris would never reveal how he feels during this time.

But the second he saw her return to Arizona, he could feel that all too familiar butterfly feeling returning with her.

I love that these two have genuine childhood friends to lovers relationship. There was some legit hesitation before they got together (despite everyone saying they should have got together a long time ago) and for good reason. It's really nice to see that these two are still figuring each other out. The one quote from Bob's Burgers where he says 'I learned some new things about you. I'm glad I can still find surprises about ya after all these time'. While they may have known each other for years, the lovinspoonful couple are still learning about one another.

My two favorite things about this ship are there very will they won't they in terms of sex. I can't describe it. It's kind of sweet seeing Beth tease Chris and Chris tease back. Kind of reminds me of Ned and Chuck in Pushing Daisies, like horny but shy. My second favorite part is that they feel like a partnership. Chris and Beth talk things out and help each other out with their various struggles (Chris's Panic attacks, struggle to express himself and her BPD,night terrors). They see each other's struggle and got each other's back!]

[Also Turtle is so cool and sweet. Inspires me everyday with her writing and friendship @brooklynislandgirl ]

[morgansmornings]

Netflix and chill with, go ice-skating with, play dodgeball against: Eliot, Eddie, Ron

This Meme: Accepting @brooklynislandgirl

Honorable Mentions: @ifyoucatchacriminal, @tangleweave. @ronmanmob

~~~*~~~

"I will say this now. I hate all of this."

It is a late lunch made of salad and fruit. With the temps on the rise with the changing seasons, Jayden can’t bring herself to make anything heavy at meal time. Unlike ANdy who can and will eat steak for every meal if he thinks he can get away with it. Malasadas are currently being covered in a sugar and cinnamon blend . Though they seem to disappear faster than she can make them. Not that Jay is ever going to complain or say anything about that.

“Clearly I have to go Netflix and Chill with Eloit. It is in self defence, really.” Jay shakes her head, clearing the knowing grin she had on her face. So maybe she had at least thought about the snarky man and what she would have liked to do to him before. “His accuracy at throwing things is a bit scary. Don’t play darts against him if you can avoid it.”

She places the pastry down and goes to coat another round. Pausing long enough to take her long island ice tea and take a not so healthy sip of it.

“Hm, I think the next safest way to go is ice-skating with Ron. I think the activity would do him some good. A little bit of sun, a new skill to add to his collection. ANd who knows, it might come in handy to woo a potential significant otter.” Jayden leaned her head to the side, a smirk gracing her face as she set the glass back down. “Which leaves dodgeball with Eddie and Venom. In which case I have the advantage because I feed the second half really expensive chocolate. Which means I win.”

[mistrdctr]

@brooklynislandgirl asked: Fuzzy slippers in the shape and colour of sea turtles, complete with small flippers. Pink fuzzy pyjama bottoms printed with round-nosed sharks wearing old fashioned nurse hats floating in a sea of stethoscopes. A faded tee shirt that might only be a couple washes away from disintegration. And those wide eyes that dominate her face as she holds out a cup of coffee toward him and zealously guards another close to her chest. "We were out of Doritos!" [From this meme] | accepting

When Stephen steps into the foyer of his Sanctum, dressed in casual attire himself (very casual, that is: An old University hoodie, a pair of having-seen-better-days joggers, grey slippers), he definitely does not expect to spot someone just standing there---

And upon seeing the small figure, holding out a cup of what must be coffee for him, the whole outfit of hers indicating she must have just fallen out of bed, he blinks. Twice. Then blinks again for good measure before bright eyes narrow into a squint, brows knitting to create that signature wrinkle right above the bridge of his nose.

... Unsure whether he should be concerned - because she has somehow made her way into his home while wearing that, it seems, and perhaps that could hint at an emergency-situation to be going on right now - or to... just be surprised about her appearance instead.

"---Uhm, hey.", he says, blinking for the millionth time as Strange steps toward her, coming close enough so that he can take the offered cup of coffee from his visitor's hands.

"Are you... ---Do you need anything? Are you okay?"

Does the sorcerer need to be worried? Does she require assistance in any way? Is something dangerous - or odd - going on?