#il mostrc

cont'd from here ! / @il-mostrc

            she  can't  help  but  laugh  quietly  at  the  wink  and  the  comment  about  an  old  man's  wisdom.  okay,  that  was  totally  on  her  for  making  fun  of  his  age  and  all.  but  it  was  fun  to  banter  -  she  hadn't  talked  to  another  person  in  so  long,  and  to  meet  someone  that  she  could  actually  feel  comfortable  enough  with  to  let  her  guard  down  at  least  a  little  bit…  well  that  was  a  blessing  in  itself.

“  oh,  i  don't  know,  you  drive  a  hard  bargain,”  she  laughed  again,  making  sure  to  keep  it  quiet  as  they  spoke  in  the  dark,  fire  illuminating  their  faces.

she  took  the  offered  skewers  eagerly  and  brought  it  closer  to  her  face  so  she  could  blow  on  it,  her  stomach  growling  eagerly  for  some  properly  cooked  food.  but  they  both  knew  if  she  had  already  travelled  with  him  this  far,  she  was  along  for  the  long  run. 

he  was  a  good  listener,  but  more  than  that,  he  was  a  smooth  talker.  he  had  a  lovely  voice  and  a  presence  that  just  made  her  feel  at  ease  and  while  she  knew  there  was  still  a  chance  it  was  all  a  front,  after  all  this  time  together  she  doubted  it.  most  men  were  not  so  patient,  hell,  most  people  weren't  all  that  patient.  not  to  play  a  long  con  like  this,  not  when  there  was  no  laws,  no  other  people,  nothing  to  stop  them.

but  they  made  a  great  team.  she  had  seen  him  in  action,  just  as  he  had  seen  her,  and  they  both  seemed  to  work  well  together.  both  bringing  individual  skills  to  the  table  while  also  being  able  to  banter  and  talk  playfully  or  seriously  when  the  mood  called  for  it.  he  was  devastatingly  hard  not  to  like  and  grace  couldn't  help  but  smile  at  him  as  she  blew  on  her  food  and  finally  took  a  bite.

it  was  delicious.  she  let  out  a  small  little  moan  of  approval,  nodding  her  head  as  she  took  another  bite,  savoring  it  happily,  wiggling  a  little  in  her  seat.  food  had  definitely  improved  while  travelling  with  hannibal,  that  was  for  sure.  she  could  always  catch  food,  cooking  it  had  never  been  her  forte.  and  while  she  wasn't  sure  how  he  had  caught  this  animal,  she  didn't  really  care  at  the  moment,  too  happy  for  a  good  meal  after  a  long,  stressful  day  of  worrying  about  other  people  possibly  around  them.

“  this  is  sooo  good,  ugh…  ”  she  groaned  in  approval.

@stabhost said: 🌸 : your favorite original character, 💌 : a mutual you want to cheer on today 📖 : a blog whose lore or plotting you love

🌸: @retriibutions has me spoiled and biased because Ash Mazur (Loomis) and Enzo Zika have my heart. Ive been best friends with Noah for years now and Billy has truly developed so much thanks to Ash and I just love his bestie Enzo. (Ashs bestie not Billy's lmao). I highly recommend you write with Noah. He's got a wonderful muse list.

💌: @hockeyborn we haven't done a whole lot together but I love their writing. I know they have had some hard brain days lately and I just want them to know they are loved and cherished here.

@il-mostrc demandé : ❛ You ruin anything you touch, and destroy anyone you love. ❜

Hannibal had hit the target, if he had been trying to or not. Remy stiffened, feeling like the air had been sucked out of his lungs. Crimson eyes flashing brightly before dimming as he turned to look at the other man. His lips were pressed into a painfully thin line, hands clenching into fists that he had to will consciously to loosen. The Cajun needed to get a hold of his emotions and quickly.

A rigid body loosened, a sly smile spreading across his lips. A careful mask he wore amongst most people. People he didn't trust, didn't know. "Why ya speakin' words ya don' truly know how tah apply to Gambit, cher." He let off a low chuckle, stepping closer. "Ya actin' like ya know 'im. When ah have no idea who da hell ya are." The mask fractured some, a sneer on his features. Eyes narrowing.

"Gambit ain't ah fool. Mind games don' work too well on 'im." Gloved hands reached into his coat pulling out a pack of cigarettes. Pushing one out the top, grabbing it between his lips casually before he dropped the pack into the trench coat's pocket. Then, a show of his power, he charged his glove enough to swipe at the tip of the cigarette catching it aflame. He inhaled slowly, eyes not leaving Hannibal's. Testing. Seeing if this man was a prey attempting to act a predator, or something he needed to keep a closer eye on.

Life experience told him to not let his guard down.

An exhale of smoke clouded the air briefly. Silence.

"What do ya want? Tah poke and prod at a man ya don' know and don' know what he's capable of, for sport? Ya got a hit on me? Not the first, non." Remy smiled, "Many ah folks wan' Gambit dead. Dat yer thing? Makin' me mad enough ta do somethin' stupid? S'il te plaîte..."

Thread cont. from XX with @il-mostrc

Job mandated therapy. Another way Vought keeps tabs on her. Another person watching them. She feels smaller each time. How long until they feel as trapped as they were in the cult?

"Hmn," Aoi knows to be careful. She's trained herself to be. People like to extend a hand only to yank it away and replace it with a switchblade. One of the first lessons of being the god of the Rising Tide. You'd think the god would dish out lessons, not learn them. That's what they thought too. Surprise; nothing's as it seems.

". . . I want nothing more than to not be dictated and restrained by someone else." He's a therapist. There's patient-doctor confidentiality even under Vought, right? The only way he tells Vought anything is if they're a risk to themself or others. She remembers this shit from when Vought re-integrated them. "I'm already saving money. Not a lot, but enough to get me a place to stay, hopefully."

Felix stared in confusion at his phone informing him to pick up his campus mail. Felix never got campus mail. Everything got sent to his appartment or PO Box. Upon retrieving said mail, Felix's expression went from perplexed to outright concern. The worker, a lovely middle aged woman that made it her job to memorize everyones names, had laughed at him.

"Oh don't look like that sweet heart. You're a senior yeah?" Felix nodded, chewing on one of his lip rings. "This is around the time students start getting big commission requests from the wealthy. Rich people are like that." She motions to the invitation he's holding as if it were a work of art itself. "They like to woo their artists into their first big job. Be known as the one that gave them their big break into stardom. And if I remember correctly your mid-year exhibition caused quite the controversy. Wouldn't expect anything less of someone interested in your work." Her smirk was downright salacious; which prompted a hasty goodbye and exit from a blushing Felix.

The mid year exhibition in question was a showcase of current seniors. Because this art school decided to torture it's students and have two final collections instead of one. Felix had made his first a series of paintings depicting how kink could be intimate and loving. It hadn't even been explict! The one he expected to be the least popular, a self portrait of sorts titled 'Self Love', of course got the most attention.

Felix wouldn't have minded it if the damn thing hadn't basically been a study in loneliness. Because he was painfully lonely and only a single person attending the event had picked up on it. Starting college late had ostracized him from his peers. An age gap of two years was alarmingly large when the elder was twenty. To add insult to injury his singular upperclassman friend (from a different university) all but vanished when she left for gradschool two years ago. Now at 24 he had no prospects, romantic or platonic.

Except now maybe he did? Felix was used to rich folks and their eccentricities but this felt different. Honestly it was the vagueness of the invitation is what put him off a little but who was he to judged? Free food was free food.

@il-mostrc ; for a knight in shining armour :>

✦✦✦ ─────── ISABEAU THE PALFREY began to huff and puff in displeasure, tire of the ride and her master's ceaseless travel. By now she was growing impatient with him, fighting his orders, at times trying to buck him off -- which was unbecoming of a trained horse such as she, but as much as she misbehaved Howard could not fault such a handsome animal. It was he who had strained her to the last strand of her abilities.

And so he relented, alighting from his horse and walking alongside her. An odd pair they were against the forest, coming down a trodden path without a banner in sight; a large, strong, dun-coated horse alongside an armoured knight, both weathered with mud and long travel, and with no lance besides.

At the bridge, at long last, he found company. Three brigands, though perturbed by the stature of the lord knight, began to harass Howard for his gold and horse. Some insults hurled, threatening swings of rapier and sword that had Isabeau backing away from the bridge anxiously.

Upon hearing Howard's refusal to concede, the three men charged upon him with their weapons. Howard released Isabeau and she rose to her feet, kicking the first brigand down, though soft-hearted that she was, she began to run away.

Dear Molly,

Will has found a home in the shelter of your nurturing arms. Do you feel the pulse that beats when comforted by his embrace? Does it quicken for you as it did when being in the clutch of madness? Hold him close, dear Molly, for he is always on the precipice of a capricious mind.

I imagine the house you made for him is nestled in a remote area. A lake nearby, for him to ease into the steady stream. Will needs hobbies to drown out the calling he abandoned in his former life.

You'll find his favorite recipe attached. I do hope you're a proper cook.

Yours Sincerely, Hannibal Lecter

On a separate piece of paper the recipe is enclosed:

Truite saumonée au bleu

Will Graham was out fishing with the boy... The son he's been so graciously granted by Molly, the woman who has carved him a place in her strong solid heart. The woman who picked him up much how Will would pick up strays. He didn't talk about the dogs like he used to, it's normal now not anxious obsession over things he holds dear. She's sewn him together and gave him a new polish.

If the letter wasn't already slightly ripped from transit she would have done what she usually did with Dr. Lecter's letters, burnt it. Hannibal disgusts Molly. Hannibal disgusts her in the same way the dogs disgust her when they get sick on the carpet. There's no jealousy, no fear, nothing that cuts the surface.

Hannibal Lecter is an annoying pretentious bitch...and his frilly handwriting merely proves her point.

"No, it's by the fuckin' beach," Molly scoffed to herself as Hannibal's tactics fall flat, from Sugarloaf with love.

She keeps the recipe though.