* PERCHINGBIRB, Independent, Highly Selective, & Private Fandomless Original Character. A Study In: Nobody

* PERCHINGBIRB, ⸻ independent, highly selective, & private fandomless original character. a study in: nobody is coming to save you ˢᵒ ᵍᵉᵗ ᵘᵖ, chasing heaven & raising hell, fuck what they think, straighten up little soldier, to be a star you must burn. by becky (twenty-five, any pronouns, cst). ©

𝔗𝔶𝔭𝔢 𝔒 𝔑𝔢𝔤𝔞𝔱𝔦𝔳𝔢 -  ℭ𝔦𝔫𝔫𝔞𝔪𝔬𝔫 𝔊𝔦𝔯𝔩

@godsdefied asked: [ direct ]  your muse taking mine by the chin and telling them to look yours in the eye . [ patience ]  your muse telling mine to be patient . / astarion & nick

                He    doesn't    beg    nearly    enough    for    her    liking.    He'd    be    prettier    on    his    knees,    littered    in    bruises    and    scratches    and    cuts...    if    only    she    could    have    been    a    fly    on    the    wall    in    that    room    when    Cazador    had    ripped    into    the    flesh    on    his    back    that    night    all    those    years    ago.    Though    her    grandparents    weren't    even    a    twinkle    in    their    parents    eyes    at    the    time.    Though    there    still    may    be    time    to    witness    something    just    as    delicious.

                Of    course    he    asks,    his    stupid    words,    all    pretty    and    perfumey.    He'll    soon    find    out    that    has    no    effect    on    her,    if    he    hasn't    by    now.    Eyes    cast    his    a    gaze    for    a    moment    before    arms    unfurl    from    where    they're    crossed    on    her    chest.

                "    My    blood    thirsty    friend-    "    She    says,    lithe    fingers    coming    up    to    wrap    around    his    chin.    Grip    like    a    vice    as    she    pulls    him    closer,    looking    down    into    her    black    and    green    gaze.    "    Look    at    me.    "

                Of    course    she    craves    the    authority    she    seems    to    have    over    him    at    this    very    moment.    Any    other    time    the    roles    might    be    reversed,    but    she    has    something    he    wants.    A    perfectly    good    neck    filled    with    hot,    human    blood.    She    has    some    sort    of    leverage    over    him    at    the    moment.

                Tongue    sucks    at    teeth,    the    tip    grazing    across    a    canine    as    she    inhales.

                "    Be    patient,    little    dove,    then    maybe    you'll    get    what    you    want.    "    Although    she    wouldn't    be    lying    if    she    had    said    that    she    enjoyed    it    quite    possibly    more    than    he    had,    the    first    time.    She    won't    ever    admit    it,    but    she    knows    Astarion    had    caught    on    to    that.

‘god knows all of your ugliness,’ my mother says, ‘and loves you despite.’

‘is that supposed to make me feel loved?’ i reply. ‘i am still ugly. he is still god.’

i gave nicolette a bg3 verse,,,, of course she's a durge, of course i made every bad decision

                "    I    do.    "    He    has    half    a    thought    of    pulling    the    gun    out    of    the    secret    little    hidey    spot    he    had    in    the    coffee    table    in    front    of    him.    Pulling    it    out    and    pointing    it    towards    her-    but    that    thought    was    burried    as    soon    as    it    became    a    full    idea.    Now,    had    he    been    four    lines    in,    maybe    he    would    have    done    it.    But    he's    only    two.    God,    this    man    needs    help.

                "    Yeah    but    if    you're    too    slow    he'll    fuck    you    up.    Like    I    tell    Holly,    you    just    gotta    be    quicker    than    them,    baby,    that's    all    there    is    to    it.    "    Fingers    do    pull    out    the    not    so    secret    drawer    in    the    table    to    wrap    around    a    box,    and    he    sets    it    on    the    wood.    Fingers    dig    through    it    to    pull    out    a    container    full    of    herb.

                "    Just    don't    get    yourself    in    trouble,    I    really    don't    wanna    have    to    face    your    dad.    "    He    says,    rolling    up    a    joint.    He    places    it    between    his    lips.    "    That    man    hates    me.    "

The drink she's sipping on his lowered, Nick suddenly gaining her full attention. She squints at him.

"I'll have to disagree with that, hm." Didi starts, looking down at her nails— already manicured, but could certainly be a bit more pointy if she wanted to emulate Catwoman. "If I had claws, it really wouldn't matter what shape I'm in. If a crime was occurring and I was in front of the suspect all I'd have to do is," Hand distorts into a little claw, wrist twisting with the motion. "Grab that fucker by the nuts and rip them off." Her eyes are sort of wide and wild for that brief moment the words are muttered through clenched teeth.

Just as quickly as she snarled, she was back to sipping her drink, poised as always. "There are plenty of ways to hurt someone without needing to be physically strong. You should know that Nick."