paradisa | fifty-five shots

[backdated to earlier today in the morning]

[Molotov is used to waking up curled around a man. But, as the sun streams into the bedroom on this morning, she realizes that this man is not nearly wide enough to be her fiance. In fact, this man is kind of grossly skinny (in her opinion).

She opens her eye and immediately shoves him away.]

What is wrong with you!

[Cross shares the same opinion about you, Molotov. You are just a tad too skinny for him. JUST A TAD. Do not take it out of proportion like you did last summer when he was on that loss.

He is totally knocked out until hands on his chest shove him away, and then he feels the edge of the bed under him, and then air. Now he is on the floor and totally confused. Give him a moment...

His head appears above the bed, a frustrated look on his face.]

What is wrong with me? What is wrong with you!?

[No, it’s cool, Cross. Molotov knows that you prefer women so fat that they’re housebound. All the easier to seduce them if they can’t walk away, right?

She glares at him, crossing her arms over her chest.]

Nothing is wrong with me! This is my room, and I do not care about the loss! That is over now, and you should not be in my bed. You should be on the floor. Where you belong.

[Whatever, twig.

He glares back at her and throws a pillow at her head. Just because the loss is over does not mean he cannot be a mean bastard.]

It’s not like it has been my goal to be in your bed anyway, Molotov. Don’t flatter yourself.

[Molotov dodges the pillow and throws one of her own.]

Lie all you want, Cross. I doubt it will change how happy I am sure you have been to have slept with me.

Can’t you see my joy? [He feigns excitement.] Absolutely wonderful experience I had.

Now, these pajamas... Yes, I think it is time I go to my room and change. Monkeys are not flattering.

[Molotov just rolls her eye in disgust, then looks down at herself. She won’t lie and say she looks terrible in this... princess nightgown (?), but that’s only because she looks amazing all the time. In her own mind.]

Have fun walking through the castle like that.

[Cross flips his hair over his shoulder. He gives no fucks. None.]

Oh, I will. I am sure Brock finds that “sexy” for someone as immature as you.

You would be shocked at how very little exists that is capable of dampening Samson’s libido. But your point, if it can be called that, is moot. This is my room. My clothes are all here. Besides, even you cannot deny how attractive I am, regardless of what I wear. That shade of blue is immensely unflattering on you, by the way.

[Don’t mind him as he just rolls his eye, heading to the door.]

Whatever you say, Molotov. And yes, I know that. It is not like I purposely chose this attire.

[Molotov snorts again, letting her face melt into an expression of snarky thoughtfulness.]

I seem to recall you being rather adamant about the monkeys, actually.

We were not exactly in our right frame of mind. Honestly, young me sucks at picking normal pajamas.

I have never seen your pajamas, but I strongly suspect that middle-aged you shares that trait with young you.

[He gives her a look of “Oh, you~”]

If you only knew what I slept in at night. [Which is nothing.]

[Another thing they share, but the implication doesn’t stop Molotov from making several dry-heaving noises.]

I can quite honestly say that I have never wanted to know anything less than that, my dear Cross.

Goodbye, my dear Molotov~ [And out the door he goes.]

[Sigh, she didn’t get the chance to threaten him with death if he ever speaks of this again. Oh well. That’s what anonymous, creepy notes slid under doors are for.]

[ ooc; Feel free to reply via journal or in person in Cross’s case! His pajamas are amazing yes. ]

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[Brock is coming back from the gym, because sometimes he gets up early and exercises instead of lounging around like a slob.

He also has doughnuts. Kids like doughnuts, they are nutritious breakfast foods for growing magical children.

He is about to open the door when it opens from the inside and lmfao Cross what you look so dumb like this????]

Uh. Wow.

[Molotov is still perched on the bed, balancing on her knees as she watches Cross go.]

Make way for him, Samson.

[ Ugh, Samson. Go away. ]

Your fiancee looks stunning, too. Excuse me.

[NO U]

Whatever. [He steps aside... still giving Cross a Look, because wow. WOW, just wow.]

[WHATEVER BOYS, Molotov has no shame. She knows she still looks good.]

Good morning, Brock.

[ Yeah, Samson, watch dat ass walk away in those pajamas. NO FUCKS GIVEN!!! ]

[HE'S NOT LOOKING AT YOUR ASS, HE'S LOOKING AT THE MONKEYS!! IT'S NOT LIKE I MADE OUT WITH YOU TWICE OR ANYTHING CROSS, SHUT UP I HATE YOU

After he's done staring at Cross, Brock goes inside ... eyes Molotov for a moment ... and then holds up the doughnuts.]

Breakfast.

[BYE BIG BROTHER, gtfo.

Molotov just gives Brock a perky little look, and gets up to snag a doughnut.]

Thank you.

[Brock tries not to eye her even more, because that seems ... creepy? Kind of? She was a little kid like a few hours ago. The castle has a gross mind. Or whatever the masonry equivalent of a mind is.]

Right. So how much do you, uh ... remember ...

[Well, to be fair, it's not really the castle's mind that's gross here.]

All of it.

{And then she starts to chow down on an eclair. It turns out that the amount of food a six year old eats for dinner is not enough to sustain an adult woman through the night.]

Oh. Okay. [awk 2 da max]

[Molotov actually seems very relaxed about it. She's taking the approach that, if she just never thinks or speaks about it again, it will be like it never happened.

Once she finishes off her donut, Molotov kisses Brock's cheek, then heads to the closet to change.]

[YEAH, THAT SEEMS COOL AND ALSO ACCEPTABLE...

Brock sadly looks at his doughnuts. There was one for Cross in here. And now he hates Cross again and will bring him doughnuts no more. Alas.]

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[ hi cross. something before you get to your room you will happen across another fabulous redhead, sitting on the floor, leaning against a statue, reading a book. he glances up, and pulls his feet out of cross' path. nice outfit man...

politely: ]

Good morning.

[ aren't his pajamas darling? also, why are you sitting on the floor? this baffles Cross, but not as much as getting out of these pajamas and forgetting the loss. ]

Morning. [ he may or may not have sounded gruff about it... ]

[ doesn't everyone sit on the floor in random hallways to read? that's not a thing? ]

My apologies if I'm in your way.

[ and he pulls back his legs some more. ]

[ ...no. no, that is not a thing. especially redheads. redheads are meant to sit in fabulous high-backed chairs and look badass.

or so Cross thinks. ]

Not at all. Is a chair not comfortable enough?

[ redheads can be fabulous anywhere. he would like to think so anyway. and he smiles. ]

Haven't you ever been struck by the urge to sit somewhere new as you devour a good book?