ic; salt inbox

[microbasil]

—

12:48

ONLINE: ITALIANBEEF

CODE BY

Comments

[chaosmenu]

should we have a practice threesome?

[microbasil]

What the fuck is a practice threesome

[chaosmenu]

so we're not weird when it's grace
there's girls in the nightclub into all sorts of shit
we could find someone

[microbasil]

What makes you think we're going to be weird, cousin?
We can not be weird
I'm not fucking weird

[chaosmenu]

you literally just called me cousin
you can't do that shit in a threesome

i just think we should practice.

[microbasil]

[ What if I don't want to fuck anyone who won't let me call you cousin gets written out and then deleted. ]

You're insane

Sure whatever
Who gets to pick the girl?

text; un: persephone

[semicharmed]

[ A true story about today: Merc pulled up Richie's inbox like "ooh time to throw a random text" and then saw so we're not weird when it's grace and immediately got 1000% distracted reading that thread instead.

ANYWAY: ]

I meant to send this way earlier, my apologies

but consider this my formal compliments to the chef for the new setup around here.

The juice bar is changing my life.

[microbasil]

Yo it's good juice right?
Fucking green and everything

[semicharmed]

I honestly don't have the words to express how good the tastes, textures, and vitamin content have been for me personally

not to mention presentation

you really do eat with your eyes first

[microbasil]

Yeah, like I said
Fucking green

I'll tell Carmy though thanks

[semicharmed]

Fucking green [ Matt concurs. Not quite right, in his opinion, but closer than anything he can scrounge out of his own head. ]

Also, I was going through my messages from the hospital, and for the most part I have no regrets, but I did want to let you know

the last time I tried to be romantic, I just went with wine

[microbasil]

[ That's a bit of a throwback. He has to go back to the network app and find the post to look at the comments he left again. ]

You didn't just show them your ass?

mail —

[rationalism]

[ taped to his door is an envelope with his name on it in a blocky print. inside is a picture of richie and eva when she's very young, although she's mostly concealed by her long blond hair on an errant breeze, courtesy of the library.

there is no note. ]

[microbasil]

[ It's a photo from a backyard barbecue when Eva was about two years old. Richie is stooped over and holding her hands to help her walk across the grass. He's looking up and laughing at something going on off camera, probably one of Mikey's dumb jokes. The sun is shining. He looks happy, clean shaven. It was a good time.

He sits with the photo for a little while, just looking at it, touching the fingertips of his free hand to the Eras tour friendship bracelets he doesn't take off. Then he wipes his face, sniffs, takes out his phone to snap a picture of the photo to use as his wallpaper. He leans over and carefully props the photo up on the table next to his bed, so it will be the first thing he sees when he wakes up.

He doesn't bother asking himself why the photo ended up taped to his door or who put it there. If there's one thing he's learned, it's that you don't question a miracle. ]

text — un: aemond_

[provoke]

Are you the man who minds the kitchens?

[microbasil]

Nah
I mean I work there, but it's not my kitchen, you know?

Want me to pass on some feedback?

[provoke]

Hardly. I mean to ask for something made specific. Who should I speak to?

[microbasil]

You could ask my cousin Carmy
Or that fucking loud blonde guy Sanji
Or I could ask them for you I guess, haven't got fucking anything else to do with everyone going nuts around here

What is it?

[microbasil]

[ After thinking about it for a second: ]

Though if it's because you want to put a fucking hit on someone, you gotta find someone else man
I don't do that shit no matter what anyone says

[provoke]

The blond man is rather passionate with his work.

[ mean for no reason! aemond just asked for room service, was that so terrible? ]

And I do not come to you to ask you as one asks a sellsword, I can kill a man well enough on my own.

I mean to ask for a certain pie made for my mother.

un: carbs / nsfw link

[chaosmenu]

[ just this morning he dragged richie into the closed off little courtyard attached to the kitchen's staff area that is supposed to be for outdoor drainage and hosedowns but is now used for smoking, sat in a shitty plastic chair so his uniform wouldn't get dirty on his knees, and sucked richie off for maybe five, ten minutes before pulling off and going back in to resume service.

anyway now he's sending an ass shot ala this pic and absolutely zero accompanying text. ]

cw: emeto

[microbasil]

[ This is stress relief: fisting his hands in Carmy's hair and biting down on his lower lip to stop himself crying out too loudly. Getting close but not close enough, by mutual agreement, and having to take a minute with his dick throbbing and his balls aching like a sweet song before going back inside. Staring at the back of Carmy's neck for the rest of service.

Ignoring the murders. Ignoring the chaos. Ignoring the way they're both sleeping badly -- though Richie has taken up residence in Carmy's bed whether he likes it or not -- and eating badly, smoking too much, the unexpected crying jags from one or both of them, the sounds from the bathroom that might be Carmy sobbing or throwing up or both.

It's all stress relief.

And now, getting a photo like that. Richie doesn't hesitate. ]

Looks good enough to eat, cousin

[chaosmenu]

[ Carmy has to reach down and squeeze himself through his briefs at that idea. ]

lemme sit on your face

[ he had thought maybe he'd tease it out a bit more, make Richie beg to get his dick wet, but instead he caves immediately. which is probably a good sign; grief makes him prickly, reluctant to accept comfort or affection because he needs it so bad, deliberately provocative like he's hoping to get punched. it's probably good he hasn't been showing up to all the voting stuff or someone would have kicked his ass by now. ]

[microbasil]

[ There's a time for acting coy and a time for just leaning into it. Richie's presently in the latter frame of mind -- not a little because he wants, with a sort of terrifying animal desperation, for Carmy to be okay, which means doing whatever Carmy wants him to do while putting up enough of a token fight to make it look convincing. He doesn't think he's fooling Carmy, but he hasn't been told to stop, so he's not going to. ]

Yeah
Yeah okay
Now?

[ It's probably now; he's heading back to their rooms anyway, damp and smelling like chlorine from the pool and another set of useless lengths. ]

[chaosmenu]

right now

[ Demanding for no reason except that lately Richie keeps doing what he wants and it's disgustingly thrilling.

Carmy is all stretched out on the bed in his briefs, tits and thighs — he's become more aware of the way his body can look and feel since he and Richie started doing this, learning he has sensitive spots that aren't his mouth and his dick, thinking of how fabric stretches over his muscles when Richie looks at him. He knew he was hot, but now he's learning he can be like... desirable. Sexy. That maybe he can help Richie with some shit, if he plays his cards right.

He's actually having a pretty good evening, when it comes to not dwelling on shit. Maybe they can even be briefly normal, or what passes for normal with them. He draws up a knee, pushes up on an elbow, mouth a little dry. His hair is also damp - he showered, smells like fancy soap instead of the kitchen. ]