#Mahalo!T <333

[brooklynislandgirl]

💚 + Chris Luna

Imagine You and Me || Accepting @bewitchingbaker {tagged for reasons}

Chris is one of Beth's oldest friends, a fellow witch, and an amazing baker. He puts so much of himself into everything he does that sometimes she wonders how much he spares for himself alone. One of her favourite things is his shy smile. And she absolutely adores all the time they spend together, how they make each other laugh, and how much he's grown from being an awkward pre-teen into a lovely man, while still keeping everything genuine. Things have slowly been changing since she's come back to Arizona, and the only reason she did was to be nearer to Chris. What was often a matter of experimenting between best friends and a ride-or-die platonic love has crept every closer to whatever everyone else could have predicted a decade or more ago; that this was meant to be and the pair are never going to not be hopelessly intertwined. {{11/10 because Jo is a wonderful mun, and he writes an amazing oc.}}

#Mahalo!T <333 #Dance until Dawn|Chris and Beth #Lovin' Spoonful|Original verse

[brooklynislandgirl]

@lediableblanc-amoureuxdechats  {{xx}}

Scraped, scrimped, scrounged, and at least once, stolen. Not that she felt bad about that last bit, she’s known too many like him. All hot air and sweaty hands swiping at things he had no business pawing at, the kind that believes an excess of money makes him exempt from basic humanity. He never saw the quick little fingers that plucked several bills from his wallet. It had been more than enough to actually rent a questionable room in the poorest of the wards for several nights, or one really nice room in the heart of the quarter and maybe something to eat to go along with it. Not that she had ever been afraid of the cold or the damp. If anything, this is the type of weather that would find her standing along the levies or on a sea wall, arms outstretched and toes planted in the surf, embracing all that her mother sent her way. The problem is that it was dark, too. Not merely nightfall, soaked in neon and sodium or halogen glow ~the kind that drowns stars in its pollution~ but rather something so deeply aphotic that it gnawed on the last of her nerves. She’d hurried through the streets, everything she owned tucked into the sea bag she carried on her back, to the one place she knew was safe. Utterly without invitation though she has an excuse she couldn’t get past numb lips and a dried up throat. Remy has a soft spot for strays and what is she if not one of the most bedraggled of them? But when she arrives, save but for his actual feline companions, the apartment is empty. Mercifully she has an in-case-of-emergency key and she pulls it up and out of her shirt. His cats barely acknowledge her presence and why should they? She does not smell like him nor does she smell like delicacies from the outside world. She is little more than warm living furniture. She leaves her shoes at the door. Her bag is just inside his bedroom and she borrows several hangers to put things up on the shower rod to dry. This includes the things she’s wearing, as she’s soaked to the bone, which necessitates a regrettable thievery of one of his shirts. She takes the opportunity to shower, to brush her teeth, cleans up after herself every step of the way. Her circumstances can be atrocious but her manners are not. She never wants him to think she’s trying to take advantage of his chivalrous generosity. She starts a fire easily enough, he’d already had it prepared. All she had to do was send the tiniest of Pele’s blood through the kindling for it to catch. Keep an eye on it so it doesn't get away or bank too low. A silent sign of someone being in the apartment so as not to catch him by surprise though she doesn’t think that happens as often as he pretends it does. That is, if he comes home. He isn’t always around and his absences oscillate from hours to days. She is only cognizant that she’d half-dozed off when she hears movement, and she hides herself away into the bedroom until she’s certain who it is. After which she hesitates. Words are still elusive much to her own frustration. Still even as she waffles about how to present herself, she hears that sound he sometimes makes that is almost a purr of sound and knows he knows. It makes everything so much easier. She settles on him, unconcerned about the closeness, or in fact their lack of modesty. Everything important is covered ~barely~ and with the chill she can feel on his skin, the damp in his hair, it doesn’t seem to matter that much. His palm smoothes up across unobstructed skin and bone when he reaches out for her in turn. She doesn’t flinch away as she might have done for so many months after they’d met. Her skin knows his. She has drowned in the depths of his coal-and-blood eyes, beautiful like nothing she’s ever seen before. Oh but before she can melt into him, mould to his planes and curves, she feels something else. The ache of muscle and bone is as loud to her as the thunder that grumbles beyond the windows. If she were to look at Remy, really look, she’d see the road-map of injuries that scattered the battlefield of his body. She can’t help herself. Her gaze pours down from his eyes to his lips, following the shapes they make when he calls her his little bird. One hand rises up and lays two tiny, delicate finger tips against his mouth, the other hand flattens against his shoulder. It’s a trickle at first. Almost like the feeling of a sigh if she’d exhaled hard enough for it, but she hasn’t. Her eyes half-close as the feeling grows, a radiating warmth from somewhere inside her. It envelopes those pains and tenderly strangles them until they cease to exist.

#Mahalo!T <333 #Le Diable Blanc|Remy ~Gambit~ Lebeau #Fireflies|Gambit and Beth #Don't Say the M Word|X-Men Verse #The Crescent City|New Orleans

[brooklynislandgirl]

"Do ya always be 'pologizin' even if it ain' ya fault?" Remy lit a cigarette, a habit he was trying to kick but he wasn't sure the motivation to do so was really there anymore. Dark eyes cast back and shrugged, exhaling before he spoke as to not make his mouth more obscured. "Don't gotta tell me. 'N don't go 'pologizin' if'n ya don't wanna."

“...’M’ sorry.” It’s automatic. Regardless of how the question is posed it exposes a flaw in her character or at least in her demeanour, one she can’t really help. At least this time she doesn’t flinch away, closing herself off bodily as if to ward off a blow that’s never come. She doesn’t know how to tell Remy that it’s a coping mechanism. That it is a safety manoeuvre to keep herself safe even when there’s no immediate danger before her. It is also a symptom of experiencing unspeakable trauma growing up, one that’s led her to believe that she is the root cause of all the terrible things happening around her. She knows she’s a burden. She knows she makes mistakes. She knows so many things that never find their way out of her mouth to be free. Her gaze slides easily from his face down into her lap, where her fingers are knitted together. “I nevah mean f’ upset you.” She speaks so quietly that anyone else might not hear her at all. But she needs him to know she doesn’t mean whatever it is she’s done, which she’s clearly unsure of. These weeks of being under Remy’s wings have been the least turbulent that she’s experienced but there’s still a soft sort of desperation wrapped around her. If he chooses to part ways, she will be lost and alone again in an unfamiliar city. “Can I make i’ up t’ you some way?”

#Mahalo!T <333 #Le Diable Blanc|Remy ~Gambit~ Lebeau #Fireflies|Gambit and Beth #Don't Say the M Word|X-Men Verse #The Crescent City|New Orleans

[brooklynislandgirl]

W  :   WEDDING.would your muse get married? why / why not? -from Cisco who is asking for the science in a purely hypothetical and for the sake of curiosity manner...

Valentine ABCs || Accepting

A quiet and snowy afternoon with not much going on is the perfect way to spend time calibrating the equipment. While she cannot replicate Barry's speed but her abilities allow her to assume his density. And she can be faster than anyone else willing to volunteer for Cisco. In fact, she might be the only one willing to give up a day off. So here she is jogging on the treadmill working up a mild sweat, wisps of dark hair sticking to her brow and cheeks which are themselves a maybe unflattering shade of pink. She isn't bothering with headphones because she needs to be able to at least hear Cisco talking, if only so that she can ask him to repeat himself. What she doesn't expect though is something that touches on romance rather than scientific quantification. She slows down bit by bit until she can stop and swing herself off the treadmill. A little breathless, she unzips her hoodie and fans herself by flapping the sides. She then rolls her shoulders, grabs a towel and her water bottle, and finally flops down in a chair. It's only then that she regards him. Eyes straying to his face. Her expression as neutral as she can make it. "Back in small kid time, I had da whole ceremony plan out. Sunset on Turtle Beach, also called Laniakea, which is on da tip of Nor'shore, overlooking Kawela Bay. Some pretty white dress an' leis made of plumeria and jasmine. I imagined my braddah would be dere to give me away an' dat it would be da start of some beautiful faery-tale." Something shadowy creeps into the edges of her and she hides as much as she can by pressing her face into the towel. She doesn't sniffle but the moisture clinging to her lashes cannot be attributed to sweat. "Den? Den I grew up an' realise....some t'ings only belong in books. Why? You evah t'ink about it?"

#Mahalo!T <333 #Light Up The Dark|Cisco Ramon #Vibe with Me|Cisco and Beth #S*T*A*Rlight|Arrowverse au #Central City #All Our Tomorrows|DC

[brooklynislandgirl]

Better Together || - Nilza had to know that John Frost-Rends-The-Bane or one of the other kinfolk women had sent her the quiz, using the emergency cell phone Beth keeps. While the huntress is gone, the little witch has been venturing into town to its library. There, she's taking classes to finally learn to read. It is a skill she'd never been taught ~she'd never spent a day in what Nilza would call a school room~ and it was never much a priority for her, until now. It's excruciating slow how long she takes to sound out letter combinations and she makes more mistakes than anyone else might be able to stand. The bigger words 'required', 'either' and 'prioritize' are beyond her current skill and she had to show Nilza the paper and have her say them aloud. She gets visibly flustered over the part about the date; darting eyes, flushed cheeks, the way the fingers of one hand tangle in the homespun fabric of her dress. The way her whole face seems to question 'are you sure' when she looks up. "I...uh...I ain' never been to one of them. Will they let me in?" The words are said quietly, then quickly skipped over, to the last part. "I...I'd like that, but...if you want spring for a present...it'll have to wait til we come back to the holler. Now, I'm no storm-wife, but I do have some pull with the local wildlife." The comment might sound cryptic at least until she holds out a couple of seeds from her pocket, bites her lip until blood wells up and spatters them, and with a little breath sighed over them, they start to sprout. Every woman deserves a little magick on sweethearts day.

#Mahalo!T <333 #The Great Unknown|Nilza Valdez #Into the Wyld|Nilza and Beth #Criss Angel is STILL a Douchebag|SPN au #Copperhead Road|Tennessee #Smoke on the Water|Appalachia #Sept of the Changing Seasons

[brooklynislandgirl]

📸 Cisquito

I see your face every time I dream || Accepting

#Mahalo!Tagg <333 #Light Up The Dark|Cisco Ramon #Vibe With Me|Cisco and Beth #S*T*A*Rlight |Arrowverse au #All Our Tomorrows|DC #{{He is just so precious}}

[brooklynislandgirl]

15. Do you have any piercings?

A Will and A Way || -

For a moment she thinks she has to have misheard Cisco. Not because what he said came across as though he'd been gargling mouth-wash with his lips pressed together while he was underwater. No, rather than the Charlie Brown Teacher sound effects, every word is clear and sharp and absolutely his voice in her ears though he's a respectable distance ~the other side of the table~ from her. Such an unexpected question and heard in a way she's unused to manages to scrunch her face in confusion. First, Cisco is never really comfortable talking about things like that. Idle discourse while they're working ranges the gamut of favourite video games, worst comic adaptations on streaming services, the nature of scientific advancement and the ethics they are bound in. Whenever she teases him about anything personal or untoward he tends to deflect with shyness and humour and in a lot of ways it feels like she's torturing him for no real reason. Second, she can't begin to understand why exactly he was asking. Was he considering getting his own piercings? Is he seeing someone and he needs to get some advice about how to work his way around them? Which brings up a more important question which is why he hadn't mentioned he'd met someone? Since when had she been out of the loop and how had she missed something so huge? "Uh." Ah yes, the eloquence of her intellect. Any day now, they're going to come along and confiscate her S*T *A*R Lab ID card and send her packing. Exactly what the Admiral would expect and would use at his pleasure to flay her alive. She keys in one more sequence before she slides out of her chair and comes around to Cisco's side of the table. This is a show-and-tell matter. She turns her head to the left so he can see her ear plain as day, and the four total she has there. "Lobe, and upper lobe," she says, pointing to the two lowest and most natural looking ones. Today, there's a crescent moon with a jewelled star in the lobe, an actual diamond solitaire in the upper. "Tragus" This is the opal stud in the bit of the ear attached to her upper cheek. Then she touches the silver ring and ball on the upper outer rim of her ear. "Helix." Then she shifts and offers him her right profile and the three there. The bar is the first one she points out. "Industrial." A matching solitaire diamond in the upper lobe, then a sort of tribal faux ruby in the lobe. "Bu wait, dere's more," she winks. She never takes her eyes off his face as she reaches down and unbuttons her jeans from first to last, and shimmies the denim down low enough that he gets a decent view of black lace against her skin. Three little aquamarine studs draw the eye to her narrow hip bone. "Sub-dermal implant. Dis one I got talked into when I was small kine tipsy." John had told her it was for protection. He'd held her head and whispered into her ear until the very last thing she was thinking about was someone cutting into her flesh and implanting metal into her body. If she was honest with herself, she's pretty sure John could have talked her into anything that night, and all the ones that came after before he disappeared from her life. But Cisco doesn't need to know that. To cover the sudden change in her expression, she turns around, back to him, and raises her shirt up a little. "An' I always keep small kine of home with me wherevah I go. Dis is symbolic of my aumakua, my islands, an' dere beauty." She doesn't mention or show him the other tattoos. They haven't gotten quite that close. "Now I'ma beatcha t' da punch an' say… no I don' got nipple piercings or ones…ah… down dere. I don' see da appeal, an' hand f' God, as a medical doctor, havin' dem can actually cause you to eventually lose sensitivity in dose places. So if ya considerin' piecings on ya… bits… my advice is…yeah, naw, brah."

#Mahalo!Tagg <333 #tbd|Cisco Ramon #tbd|Cisco and Beth #S*T*A*RLight|Arrowverse Au #All Our Tomorrows|DC verse #Lost in Translation || N F S W #piercings tw #tattoos tw

[brooklynislandgirl]

Owl- is your muse a day person or a night person? What do they do during this time?

...of a Feather || -

Martin Sepulveda pulls up the video on his phone and zooms in on a particular clip before setting it on the desk and pushing it toward his employer. He quickly retracts the extended limb and tries not to squirm in the chair. Despite the generous expense account and being paid a retainer each month, the PI cannot say he enjoys working. Not under these conditions, for this particular employer, for the entire situation. “As far as I can tell, sir, the subject is a morning person. Likes to get up and hit the beach just as the sun is rising. She’ll either jog, surf, or swim for about an hour before returning to her apartment. Making coffee, grabbing a shower. She takes the same trains each day to get to work, takes the same trains to head back home. It’s very rare to see her out after dark, and when she is out on the town, she’s always in someone else’s company.  “Two of them are her older brother, a homicide cop in Brooklyn, or a woman who appears to be a close family friend. Former DA and now owns a coffee shop in one of the Toreador districts.

“My records indicate that Alkovich’s interest in the girl has nothing to do with politics or a coup against-” One flutter of movement and Martin falls silent.  An envelope heavy with cash is slid across the desk toward him and there’s a gesture of dismissal. He doesn’t need a second hint. ~*~ The next morning he’s parked across the street from the six story apartment building in Bay Ridge. And truth be told, maybe he’s still groggy from his bender because he’s not using his binoculars to spy on the pretty little nurse, trying to catch a glimpse of her bare skin as she greets the day. In fact he doesn’t see her for long enough that he starts to both grow concerned that she or her cop brother have made him, or worse...that his employer has made a move against the Alkovich guy. He nearly jumps out of his skin when there’s a polite little knock on the driver’s side window. He looks warily up into her soft, radiant smile. And shudders when he sees her very sharp teeth, too much like others he knows. He rolls down the window. “Mornin’ Marty,” she says, and he has to wonder how she knows his name. “Uh. Morning.” “Ya lookin’ lil kine rough t’day so I brought ya coffee ~t’ree sugar an’ one cream, jus’ how ya like. Andy made some cinnamon rolls. Dey got orange flower cream cheese frostin’ instead’a glaze but dey pretty good. Now before ya say no, trus’ me...gonna make ya feel mo’ beddah dan hair of da dog dat bit ya. Cup is recyclable so when ya done, go head an’ put it in da bin, okay?” “Okay,” he finds himself automatically agreeing with her.

“K, den. So...I’m runnin’ late but I really do wish ya take beddah care of yaself. An’ drink plenny waddah. See ya t’night!” She does that funny little hang-ten gesture of hers, and goes bopping back across the street like some weird small bird. Suddenly, Florida doesn’t sound like a bad place to be.

#Mahalo!T <333 #She's Talking to Angels {Bethisms} #Making Wishes on Passing Cars|Answered Asks #Honourable Mention|Mikhail Alcovich #Honourable Mention|Andy Riley #Mists at Midnight|Vampire the Masquerade #Latchkey Saints|Mage the Ascension #Brooklyn Stories|New York

[brooklynislandgirl]

Happy Birthday!! Love from muse and mun 💜

#Mahalo!Cory <33 #Mahalo!Corymun <333 #*makes dolphin noises that only T-Rexes living on Kepler-13396 can hear* #All of this is so true and all of this is love. #World's Okayest Sister|Beth Riley #Sibling Rivalry|Andrew Riley #Turtlemun Birthday Wishes 2022

[brooklynislandgirl]

💖 for Beth and her Mischa

Dream a Little Dream || Accepting

HOW LIKELY THEY ARE TO ENTER A RELATIONSHIP WITH THEM:

1 | 2 | 3 | 4 | 5 | 6 | 7 | 8 | 9 | 10 More and more Beth craves time away from her brother to be spent by her dark poet. Like a subtle drowning she doesn't realise that in pursuing these evenings she's building foundations to what one would in vulgar vernacular, call 'dating'. Gradual in the way glaciers form, she might realise that there's an entire romantic relationship happening around and between them. But she isn't wont to label things because once you give something a name, it becomes defined. Once defined, it can be broken or taken away.

~*~

WOULD THEY…

MAKE THE FIRST MOVE? Yes | No SAY “I LOVE YOU” FIRST? Yes | No CHEAT ON THEM? Yes | No BE THE JEALOUS TYPE? Yes | No PLAN THE DATES? Yes | No INITIATE THE FIRST KISS? Yes | No REMEMBER ANNIVERSARIES? Yes | No ~*~ BOLD WHAT APPLIES: THEIR RELATIONSHIP IS: friends to lovers | rivals to lovers | enemies to lovers | still just enemies | mutual pining | star crossed lovers | old married couple | perpetual honeymoon phase | stable and boring | stable but not boring | secret lovers | best friends hiding their feelings | and they were roommates | friends with benefits | coworkers avoiding HR | one-sided affection | weird sexual tension | it’s complicated | toxic relationship | a secret affair | an actual dumpster fire | other PUBLIC DISPLAYS OF AFFECTION: hand holding | kiss on the hand | kiss on the cheek | kiss on the forehead | kiss on the lips |  cuddling | hugging | affectionate messages or comments | pet names | pictures together | no displays of affection PRIVATE DISPLAYS OF AFFECTION: hand holding | kiss on the hand | kiss on the cheek | kiss on the forehead | kiss on the lips |  cuddling | hugging | affectionate messages or comments | pet names | pictures together | no displays of affection | THE Kiss DO THEY STAY TOGETHER? yes, this is endgame | yes but someone is gonna die tragically | something is keeping them apart | they part ways as friends | they part ways as enemies | they’re on-again-off-again | they have a super messy breakup | it was just a fling | other BONUS: WHAT TERRIBLE PET NAMES WOULD THEY GIVE EACH OTHER?

Mischa chooses synonyms that call to mind queens of air and darkness; sprite, undine, sylph. Names fae and gossamer in turns, and every time they make her blush. Beth has a number of them at her disposal but she chooses one in specific, it's kaona meaning left to mystery. She simply calls him "a'ole hoʻomae."

#Mahalo!T <333 #White Translucent Black|Mikhail and Beth #Mists of Midnight|Vampire the Masquerade #Latchkey Saints|Mage the Ascension #Brooklyn Stories|New York

[brooklynislandgirl]

Tabby perches on the edge of the couch, drink teetering upon a knee and curls of fire spilling over shoulders. A little drunk, giddy almost, she crooks a finger, inviting Beth closer to catch every word. “Imagine it though. You and me. It would break every last one of those boys.” The tilt of her head encapsulating the men spread out across the Riley apartment, so many of them tied together by invisible threads. “We could let them watch, if we’re being nice. And is there any con to it? Except maybe the risk that their macho pride couldn’t handle us together.”

Pros and Cons || -

Beth laughs and claps her hands as Tabby finishes laying out her master plan. It wasn't quite what she was getting at, of course, but rather trying to formulate a thesis she could type up and present to her brother as proof that she'd thought things through. Then all she had to do was choose the unlucky recipient of her request and present a copy, 11 point Times New Roman font, double spaced. Fully annotated with things that have caught her imagination over the last two decades, allergies listed for safety {latex being one of the worst}, and finally both a bibliography and a consent-waiver. She hadn't quite expected Tabby to make it more personal. Sweet. Funny. Right up until her brother's brain exploded. And he decided to forbid them continuing being friends ~with or without benefits~ thereafter. She's heard about this kind of thing. That people tended to like to watch others having sex together, and especially if those two people were women. She understands that from an artistic point of view. Women were built more gently, more softly. They drew the eyes with their curves. With taste and texture and a dozen other little appeals. Beth herself was more inclined to watching than really wanting to participate those few times she had an interest in the subject. "I mean...ya not wrong. Plus dere was dis one time, I saw dis t'ing wit' Twizzlers, but I prefer Red Vines..." For a moment Beth seems to trail off into a rabbit hole of thought and then shakes her head and smiles at Tabby. "But along wi' dat con? Like Andy don' even let us dance t'geddah, what make you t'ink he'd let it go dat far?"

#Mahalo!T <333 #One Says She's A Friend Of Mine|Tabby Mitchell #There are Seven Stars|Tabby and Beth #Latchkey Saints|Verse #Brooklyn Stories|New York

[brooklynislandgirl]

🔥 + frustration

Flickerflash || Accepting

Just her luck, there's an article on Cosmo, and using the ambient light of her laptop and the recessed lighting near the couch, Beth jots down notes:

*Light Candles*: mood setting is KEY. Turn off overhead, light candles around room, enough to cast sexy glow.

*Be IN CONTROL* re: True Blood, Int. w/ Vampire, Near Dark, Lost Boys, et al. *Colour* Men are drawn to colour. V. important. Red? Purple? washable opt. *Rip His Clothes Off* ??? V. impractical. Also V. dumb. Seen that coat?! citation needed: yanking pants down in one swoop. ? *Head South* author: where you can mix pleasure and "pain." Gently scrape your teeth against his --- am not writing this down. Stupid, impractical, not possible?

Conclusion: article silly, not about real v.v.

She's mid-wrap up when Andy pauses in front of her craning his neck to try to see what she's tangled up in, and she quickly closes the screen. "D'you mind?"

He does the eyebrow thing he always does, and narrows his eyes. "Well, I didn't til now. C'mon what were you doing?" Beth purses her lips before saying "...shoppin'. Christmas an' stuff. None of ya business. Did ya wan some kine or just t'ought lurking ovah me was gonna be da highlight of ya night? If so...didn' have t' dress up." She's lying through her teeth and they both know it, but for once, Andy is choosing discretion as his point of valour. "Need to go check in on Tabs. Not answering her phone."

"Stayin' da night kine of check...or....?"

"Just gonna stay til close, drive her home, make sure her apartment is secure. I should be back by 0400." She bobs her head knowingly. "Uh-huh. Sure. Keep tellin' yaself dat." He reaches down and bats her forehead with his fingertips. "Whatever. Just lock up and-" "-don't let anyone up, doorman, blah blah blah." She knows this mantra by heart now. "Night, Bean." "Night, Panda."

~*~

Frustration has never been a problem for Beth. For all that she enjoys {and sometimes overtly needs} to touch other people and things that hold fascination, it has never translated directly into sexuality. If anything, she is more comfortable exploring herself and even that is few and far between, and it's always been underwhelming in the most unsatisfactory fashion.

This is where the F word comes into play.

She's researched on the topic, considering maybe she was doing it all wrong but even with expert advice from friends, ohana, and the ever-knowing internet, she's not yet managed to find the right way of doing...things. Which leads her to believe that maybe she isn't capable of achieving satisfaction in a physical sense through the normal means.

#Mahalo!T <333 #She's Talking to Angels {Bethisms} #Making Wishes on Passing Cars|Answered Asks #Lost in Translation||NSFW #{Vampire Sex Cosmo article is real but also useless}

[brooklynislandgirl]

❤ Mischa and Beth - One hand to hold open the book he reads from, brittle pages yellowed with time, and the other endlessly tracing a path of where veins flow beneath her skin.

Rose Tint My World || Accepting

The first thought that Beth has when Andy calls and says he's driving back from California instead of flying, and promises he'll be back in four days shouldn't have been the joyful consideration of blocking out the windows in her bedroom with impenetrable curtains {and a judicious application of Forces}. Ever the dutiful sister though she keeps her enthusiasm out of her voice, making him promise that he'll take it easy, make frequent stops and sleep for more than four hours a night. Of course he spends another hour complaining, ranting on the uselessness of conferences when he could be better utilised in the city and turns the tables by making her promise to not open the doors for strangers, to have the doorman sign for any deliveries of food or anything else she might need, and to "Please, for the love of all that is good and holy, don't go out." A promise she not only makes but plans to honour with her heart of hearts. And when she hangs up, she gets to work. Heavy curtains from the back of her closet stash. Carefully fitted aluminium foil covered pieces of concrete. A little mana coaxed just right and given some of her own power by painting a few sealing sigils in her own blood. And just like that, no sunlight will penetrate the defences she's put up.

She then orders all the things she will need for at least a week, all scheduled to be delivered by five in the evening. Feeling accomplished she decides to spend the remaining time until dark by sprucing herself up. Bath, hair, particularly slinky and neck baring dress. A nap to restore her energy. And now, as the night presses on, and she listens to Mischa read in his native tongue words she doesn't quite understand but finds beautiful all the same in the soft timbre of his voice, she gathers her courage. Which isn't easy as his cool fingers ebb and flow along her skin, occasionally pausing when he turns the page or catches her eyes in a spared glance for emphasis of a passage ~~Pushkin's Kapitanskaya dochka, is after all, a love story~~ though she doesn't dare try to interrupt. Nor does she actually touch the pages ~~she's sure this is an original printing~~ when he reaches the end of the chapter. She does reach, though, and hovers a hand several inches above the words. Colour rises bright and warm in her cheeks. Surging her vital flow beneath his own fingers. Everything about her is quite except the beat of her pulse. "Mikahil," she begins tentatively, unsure how he'll take the request. "I...ah. Da kine... Andy's stuck on da west coast and is gonna take a few days to drive back, yeah? And I was wondering if... well, an' keep in mind I may have been a little too forward and already took care of da whole..." She waves a couple fingers in the direction of the floor to ceiling windows providing a view of the city beyond. "Would you...I mean, if no imposition an all, an' feel free t' say no if ya wan, but would you care t'...mebbe ... stay wi' me, while he gone?"

#Mahalo!T <333 #Left the Belltower|Mikhail Alkovitch #White Translucent Black|Mikhail and Beth #Mists at Midnight|VTM #Latchkey Saints|MtA #Brooklyn Stories|New York

[brooklynislandgirl]

Moodboard ship: it is very, very, very hard to pick only one. But I'm going to be biased and say Beth and Mikhail.

I Want A Photograph...Picture Of...|| Accepting

No shadows, No reflections here. Lying cheek to cheek In your cold embrace. So soft and so tragic As a slaughterhouse. You press the knife Against your heart.

#Mahalo!T <333 #Left the Belltower|Mikhail Alkovich #White Translucent Black|Mikhail and Beth #Mists of Midnight|VTM #Latchkey Saints|MTA #Brooklyn Stories|New York

[brooklynislandgirl]

Locust: What was your favorite book as a child? {from Mischa}

With Your Flowers In Bloom || Accepting

That Mischa rented out the restaurant for the night was impressive, and she's not going to look that gift-horse too closely, because she has a feeling that it isn't so sweet below the surface. She also doesn't look too closely at his glass...wine is a lot less thick, a lot more acrid than what she can smell, a genetic throw back to her earliest ancestors. And while it might be impolite to only pick at the supper he's had catered to her tastes ~possibly cooked himself, though she's not sure it's one of his talents or that the fire required wouldn't have driven him to the edge of his alternative sanity~ she's simply more ravenous for the conversation and company he provides to go with it. "Hands down, I t'ink....Da Princess Bride, Matilda, Da Lil' Ali...ah Lil Prince. John Carter of Mars, 'Salem's Lot, an' Blood Meridian."

Realising that the latter three were not exactly children's literature, her brows knit and an awkward smile hollows out her cheeks and purses her lips momentarily. She takes a sip of the wine in front of her and raises her other hand for a little airy wave meant to somehow excuse herself, and the novels in question perhaps.

"T' be fair, dose last ones... Andy read t' me because dat was what he was readin' an' I t'ink dey became cherished in memory because I jus' really liked curlin' up in bed wi' him, blankets tuck under my chin, head on his chest an' listenin' to da mix of his heart, his brea'd an' his voice. He could have been talking' story about ingredients to Chicken Kiev, or he could have been readin' one of his comic books... nevah would have made a difference. It was jus' a safe kind of feelin' an' some kine dat made us jus' dat much closer...two of us against da world, ya know?" And maybe Mischa didn't. Maybe he didn't have any of those kinds of relationships growing up, or even now. She really isn't even certain how old he actually is, though he appears to the world to be somewhat between herself and her brother in age. Maybe, it was entirely possible, that there weren't any books when he was a mortal child. "Would it be terrible an' uncouth if I aks ya same-same question? Or...mo' beddah we talk about music, instead?"

#Mahalo!T <333 #She's Talking To Angels {Bethisms} #Making Wishes on Passing Cars|Answered Asks #White Translucent Black|Mikhail and Beth #Mists At Midnight|VTM #Latchkey Saints|MTA #Brooklyn Stories

[brooklynislandgirl]

Does your muse prefer gentle lovemaking or rough sex? {from your local neighbourhood kindred}

Love like We Love || Accepting

Ever since Beth was old enough to believe kisses turned frogs into princes {and to question why it was never the other way around, why the goal was to become one of the monsters that only human beings, particularly the rich and the entitled, can be} she knew that love was supposed to be soft. It was supposed to be lilac-tinted and sweet, all with it’s attending gentleness, and of course harrowing adventures like figuring out how to retrieve the golden ball from the well or where the cat got those red boots.

Even now into her adulthood she believes romance still ought to be like that, overcoming terrible odds armed only occasionally with the faith that things will go as they must and that love can still conquer everything.  But she isn’t naive. She’s seen these kinds of things played out in movies and television, wide extremes of ranges between the sultry but still tender to the horrifically violent where the exchange is less about expressing adoration and more about taking power and privilege over someone else. When she was older and being ‘encouraged’ to put childhood away, she’s seen it close up by accident. And her brother’s explanation opened up an entirely different perspective for her. Made her realise things about herself she isn’t wholly comfortable with.

And the more time she spends with Mischa, the more she has dreaded this coming up in otherwise innocent conversation. She doesn’t blame him for being curious. She doesn’t blame him for asking in a way that isn’t coyly hidden behind flowering verse. She does, however, squirm on her side of the couch, and eyes her wine glass on the coffee table. She doesn’t reach for it, doesn’t need it to lubricate her social graces, though she does draw the lap blanket strewn across her lap down and over, tucking it around her leg. Doing so to give herself a moment to gather her thoughts, to consider the question as honestly as it is asked.

“Mebbe...bot’ of dem? I t’ink dere a time an’ a place for eiddah one. Passion is not some kine dat lives well in captivity. It can be gentle, nurturing. I would hope dat...when it happens for me... dat it starts dat way. But dere’s also some kine about more animalistic side. Bitin’. Clawin’. Bein’ driven t’ da brink of howlin’ madness because dere no civilised words t’ express what ya feelin’ inside. An’...bein’ how I am, what I am... I’m more built for da latter, psychological and physically speakin’.” She doesn’t even follow her own train of thought, and instinct almost pushes out the words, ‘mo beddah I show you’. She doesn’t though. She thinks Mischa is by limitation more like her. That the physical aspect of love making is not something that can be done at the shift of the wind, the change of the tide. “Situational.” She clears her throat, raises her gaze to meet his, and if nothing else, her blood is surging in her ears and beneath her face like a pounding drum tide. “Is...is dis somet’ing ya t’inkin’ of explorin’? Some kine ya want...wi’ me...?”

#Mahalo!T <333 #White Translucent Black|Mikhail and Beth #Making Wishes on Passing Cars|Answered Asks #Mists of Midnight|VTM #Latchkey Saints|MtA #Anonymous