i have a number of random little character scenes that keep popping into my head that i don't know how to fit together into a story, so i'm just gonna start posting them here as-is. i think they're too short to post to AO3, even in a "writing doodle" type collection
-----
{when asked by Jahiera to babysit}
Astarion mulls it over, jaw moving in thoughtful chewing motions. "Well, it does 'take a village', as the adage goes. And I'd rather not have any nibling of mine turn out to be some awful hero - helping people, slaying monsters, saving the day and whatnot. I do have a scoundrel reputation to uphold, after all."
He stands in silent contemplation, then nods. "Alright. I'll do it. But!" He holds up a finger. "Only on the condition that I can tell them I'm a hag. And I'm allowed to threaten to eat them."
Jaheira raises an eyebrow, unimpressed. "Honestly, that's probably kinder than most of the threats I've made to them."
Astarion throws an arm around her and squeezes her in a tight side hug. "Oh, I just can't get enough of hearing what a terrible mother you are! I really had no idea we'd have that in common, darling!"
He drops the hug when Jaheira's deepening growl is accompanied by a frightening amount of sudden body hair. "Alright, alright! No need to get uncivilized, dear. You know me well enough to know I didn't mean anything by that."
8 notes
·
View notes
It’s all together a different type of tame, a feral civility that snaps and twangs as it tries to feel more natural while fighting to keep a form it can recognize.
0 notes
So
This week
Has been strange
Needless to say
The panther has been
Anxious, restless, pacing
Back and forth from dawn to dusk
From dusk to dawn, forth and back
And in my dreams as well
Yet, like any cat
Who's worth their nip
You'll barely
Feel her
Pounce.
0 notes
would you like some lesbian poetry? no? too bad baby this is MY blog
50 years ago we'd have met more organically, like
in a dark smoke-filled room that the cops would raid weekly
you were invited by that friend who dropped out of school,
the one you still got your weed from,
the one who told you she had a girlfriend
and you said, "what?", grinning, excited, scared
like you'd just been trusted with the juiciest of sleepover secrets,
like you'd just discovered santa was real and so was the devil and
the sun rose for the first time
you clock my black and blue kerchief just poking out
over my left breast pocket
and your eyes linger there like you're trying to read a language you've never seen.
i approach you and offer to translate.
you laugh and tell me you've never been here before and
i laugh and say, good luck, darling,
and as i turn away to go back to the bar you grab my arm and say, wait
you spin me around and pluck the bandana from my shirt
tuck it into the right pocket in your jeans
the jeans which your friend, that friend, said shaped you like venus
and she was right - i see it now
the shape of you wearing my colors like you even know what it means
like they belong on you (and they do)
i smile and give up and slide an arm around your waist
and when i lean in to tuck your hair behind your ear, i whisper,
what are you drinking tonight?
and right on cue you mumble, "whatever you're having"
and i laugh again because, of course, it's the wrong answer.
we can't both drink you, but
god willing
i'd let you drink me
3 notes
·
View notes
Listening to good 4 u kicking my feet and giggling and thinking “omg this song fits him so well!!” (“Him” is Dr. Hannibal Lecter)
7 notes
·
View notes