#storiesbreathed

[littlestvrs]

@storiesbreathed asked: ❛ i thought you’d like some company. ❜ wyll to astarion

'' IF YOU THOUGHT of teaching me how to dance, Ravengard, don't bother," Astarion snided, " I'd much rather prefer killing to dancing but you can ask Mizora instead, she seems pretty EAGER to learn the intimate style with you."

[lastblues]

❛ i didn’t want you to see me like this. ❜ tashi to art?

@storiesbreathed / tashi duncan. ★ meme.

          ART FEELS LIKE HE'S FLOATING.  it feels kind of ridiculous, actually, contrasting the way he feels to the way that tashi clearly feels. he woke early in the morning--- much earlier than his 5:30 alarm--- to the sound of her getting sick. if he's being honest, he's never given kids much thought. he and tashi kind of talked about it when they were engaged, but there hadn't ever been a solid yes, we want kids or a no, we don't want kids. they were both people who considered family to be very important (although art's family had never been very close, save for himself and his grandmother), and they were both people who valued their careers deeply. sometimes those two things conflicted, sometimes they didn't. art had never been quite sure if the two could be equally as important to him, and he'd always worried that if he had a child, he wouldn't give them enough attention. he worried that he would do to his kid what his own parents had done to him. they had never been particularly cruel to him, although sometimes he wonders if sending him to mark rebellato's had been to get rid of him, since his grandmother could no longer be a reliable guardian. right now, he can't imagine feeling so disconnected from his own child. he's only even known about the good news for a couple of days, but he's elated.

          he's elated, and tashi is hurling her guts out. when he hears her, he immediately gets out of bed, moves to the bathroom door, and gives it a couple of gentle taps with his knuckle before opening it. he lowers to the floor beside her, pushing her hair away from her face with a touch so gentle it wouldn't hurt a butterfly's wings, and asks, "what can i do?" he wasn't expecting her response of i didn't want you to see me like this, and he can't hide the way that his eyebrows tug together and he frowns, confused. "like what? baby..." his hand rests on her thigh and he scoots a little closer to her. he doesn't seem to notice the crime scene in the toilet beside them at all. his eyes are focused on her, only on her, always on her. "you're beautiful. you're---" his eyes drop to her stomach, just for a moment, then lift back up to her face. "i love you." what else can he say but that? what else so succinctly conveys that there's no way you can look that will put someone off? that there's nothing you can do, nothing you can say, nothing that will make them feel any less complete when they look at you?

          "i'm sorry you're sick." the hand on her thigh flips over to rest palm up, ready for her hand, or to be handed something, or to be pushed away, and art repeats, "what can i do?"

[savingthrcw]

“I’ve got a headache.” francesca to eloise? @storiesbreathed

"You do?" That's enough to make Eloise forget all her complaints about the evening and focus entirely on her younger sister; Francesca isn't one to make up illnesses to get out of trouble, nor one to complain without need. "Shall I fetch mamà? Perhaps it's time we take a fashionably early leave," she suggests, and for no reason whatsoever she uses her fan to try to give her a little more air, "You'd be doing me a favour," she adds, to keep her from feeling guilty.

[mvndrvke]

@storiesbreathed : dreams make good stories, but everything important happens while we're awake.

Edwina smiles at Francesca. She's glad to have found a friend in the Bridgerton sister. "I think you're quite right," she agrees. "Though I do enjoy a good story, I think the promise of fortune in waking moments is more fulfilling. The promise of a life of my own making.... that's what excites me the most."

[championsofthegate]

@storiesbreathed/@griefmaimed asked: “Whatever you do, don’t lose hope.” lunarosa to gale?

Hope, as Gale had learned, was a strange and fickle thing. Some days it was the only thing that kept him alive in his tower, the hope that Mystra might reach out, finally. That she might let him explain what he had been trying to do.

Some days it felt crushing and tenuous. Like the slightest thing might cause it to snap and he'd fall back into the abyss. Others it felt like something he needed to hold onto for dear life.

He couldn't even begin to explain what he was feeling now. Elminster's visit had left him with a lot of feelings, even a little bit of hope, truly. Hope that Mystra would forgive him. That he could make all this up to her somehow.

But he didn't think that's what Lunarosa meant when she told him not to lose hope.

Gale gave her a sad smile, shaking his head. "I think your hope and my hope might be a bit different right now, Luna. But whatever happens, I appreciate you standing by me in this endeavor. Truly, I couldn't ask for a better friend."

[rejectory]

@storiesbreathed: “What the fuck happened to you?”

“ Your fucking father-brother-mother-maker. ”

Who’d first happened to Louis, who to Armand, who to Daniel. A whole lot of Gordian Knotting, to do a disservice to the story.

Best he can do when staring down the gory ghost of a past that just might have triggered all of the above.

“ You? ”

[andessence]

@storiesbreathed | starter call (accepting.)

"Stop. No, that's not quite it," comes Armand's voice from the quiet of the house, bringing the noise of the rehearsal to a halt. After a moment of agitated annotation, his eyes follow his voice, up to the stage and to his cast. Foremost among them, the newly-elevated Claudia, still clutching her script and her sense of dignity alike; she has yet to embrace her part, though everyone can see how sincerely she wants to please her new coven. 'Let go of embarrassment. Lulu is unreserved, fully embodied - find her,' chastises the marginalia he leaves in his own copy of the play. But when he approaches the stage and regards the cast, his orders are more obscure, more temperate. "Company, take ten. Claudia, a word?"

[across-the-faistverse]

rest, sender rests their head on receiver's shoulder. tashi & art!

Oh. Her head rests sweetly on his shoulder, not exhausted or craving, just a simple companionship... And he leans his head on top of hers, a sweet reminder that he's there. He can be the rock, the strong one. Just let him take care of it.

[storyofwhoiam]

i guess all the time i feel kind of trapped because i can’t describe how i’m feeling. eloise to benedict?

@storiesbreathed

Benedict listened intently, his expression softening as Eloise spoke. He took a moment to choose his words carefully, kicking his feel to rock slowly on the swing before he spoke.

“Eloise,” he began, “I can’t pretend to understand what you’re going through, but I do understand feeling trapped.” He paused, “And I also know that sometimes, when words fail us, finding another way to express ourselves can be... quite liberating.” Benedict’s eyes held a warm, encouraging expression. “Perhaps you could try to channel your feelings through something more creative?”

[historiavn]

@storiesbreathed sent: "i'll stay in tonight, thanks." eloise to cassandra!

“Alright.” Cassandra responded, nodding in acceptance before taking a cautious sip of her tea. She then set the teacup down on the coffee table, and allowed her gaze to flicker upwards so that she might meet Eloise’s own.

“Would you care for any company? My father won’t mind if I’m absent for the evening.”

[lastblues]

❛ you’re not a very convincing liar. ❜ tashi to art?

@storiesbreathed / tashi duncan. ★ meme.

          ART HAS NEVER BEEN A GOOD LIAR.  he's never really had much need for secrets. he and patrick bonded in such a private way at such a young age that he'd always had someone around that he could tell everything to. if he had something to hide, he would just withdraw himself, stay quiet. at least if he said nothing, he couldn't get himself into trouble. anything you say can and will be held against you rings in his head suddenly in response to tashi's words. it's not like he couldn't have predicted this outcome, that tashi would read his intentions like a book and call him out on it. she knows he's not worried about patrick hurting her; he wants her. knowing that this outcome was a possibility is a huge part of why he didn't try to hide his intentions. it would have been fruitless. it would have made him look weak, cowardly, sneaky. maybe he could be one or two of those things at a time-- maybe he's being one or two of them right now-- but one thing he is not is a liar, and so he doesn't try to be. art plays to his strengths here, as he always does.            one of his biggest strengths is his sincerety. the words that he's using are words that incite doubt to meddle in affairs that are not his own, but the feelings that he's showing are sincere. there's something so genuine in the tone of his voice, in the way that he says, "that's not what i'm trying to say." what he's trying to say, what he wants to say but can't, is that he's loved her since the moment he laid eyes on her and that he just doesn't understand how there could be any way that patrick can feel the same way for her. what he's trying to say is that she deserves someone who feels this way about her, because he would do anything for her. really, truly, genuinely. anything.

          including, but not limited to, going behind his best friend's back to start shit. except that he doesn't plan to only have this talk with tashi--- he plans to have a similar one with patrick, and in the way that he thought tashi could read him here, he knows patrick can read him. patrick will see what he's doing from a mile away. in that way, it feels kind of like a game, a race, a challenge. he doesn't really expect to win this game, either, but that's not the part that he finds fun. what he finds fun is playing. he doesn't like feeling like he never really got the chance to play here.

          "wait, tashi, can we just--- i'm sorry. i didn't mean to upset you. can we finish lunch?" can we talk a little while longer?

[savingthrcw]

@storiesbreathed liked for Pen dealing with Eloise's romantic drama

She had said no. But it was a different no from all other proposals she had rejected; she has let this courtship go on, she has even entertained the idea of saying yes, since it seemed a suitable partnership that would allow her to be as free as a married woman could hope to be, and away from her home where even her own mother had found companionship and she was soon to be left alone as the only spinster. She doesn't doubt Hyacinth will take half a second to find a husband, with how her family has fared in that department. Still, she said no. Because while it's true that she wasn't looking for a love match, she keeps thinking about John and that alone has ruined her.

Instead of taking the carriage back home, Eloise runs. She needs to see the one person who has noticed just how much fun she was having in her banter with her footman, the one best friend who, save a brief window years ago, has always been there for her, and so without a second thought she runs away, has her carriage take her to Colin and Penelope's home, and scares one of the maids to death asking for Penelope and only Penelope when it's nearly dawn and she's clearly distraught enough to make people think someone died. God, she hadn't even thought of what this would look like.

"No one died," is therefore the first thing she tells Penelope, already crying again, "I ju-just needed to see you, Pen... I needed my friend."

[fallbefore]

@storiesbreathed. permanent starter call, accepting.

        lydia…   eldritch trilling fills the air.   she takes her time before recognition graces the air,   reaching the desperate,   wild woman.   her dress torn from her,   tears singed from her cheeks.   the shadows twisted around her ankles,   casting doubt when mother did not appear immediately.   but she rose,   awoken.   lydia.   fire consumes her,   wraps around her naked body,   swallowing the small corpse,   as well,   another promised seed feeding her fire.   the goddess sets her skin aflame,   eating away at everything but the light carried in her bones.   dousing every bit of her in that blinding light,   as radiant and terrible as the goddess herself.   and so she had known she would be awoken,   the green and good of the earth sending for her.   “ does thy promise me a child? ”   she booms,   larger than all of the world.

[last4ever]

despite all of the terrible and horrendous things that rancilda had done alongside her mother and sister, she thought that her new lease on life was truly just. she had left the castle to head for her little oasis under the main bridge without a care in the world, humming a familiar medley under her breath that her mother wasn't around to stifle silence anymore. i look good in this . . .

she had just burst into the cobweb covered hole she had left years ago and took a deep breath of the damp mildewed rot that had set in from the years of neglect. she exhaled a sigh of approval at the scents of home and started reaching for the seam at the back of her neck, ready to get this tight skin and garment off of her when . . .

halt!

she released a screeched yelp as she jumped, eyes wide to see the frog standing in the doorway, sword drawn. " you really oughta learn how to knock, guy -- "

“ welcome to ruin. ”

before she could react, he lunged forward on @storiesbreathed's springy legs and sliced through her bicep, tearing through fabric and skin to reveal her stony rock skin underneath. she yelped as she jumped back, raising her hands in innocent. " hey, we can strike a bargain! a deal! i've seen the light! i'm a changed troll! " she tried to reason, dodging jabs and swings left and right. " can't a girl just write her riddles under a bridge in peace?! "

[championsofthegate]

@storiesbreathed asked: i only gamble with my life, never my money. lunarosa to ayla?

"Funny, usually I say the opposite," Ayla said with a small laugh. "I can always find more money. I only have one life." And, Tymora willing, she'd get to keep that. Her life, that is. And her money too. Again, Tymora willing.

She studied to tiefling curiously for a moment. "Try to keep yourself alive. We need you alive much more than we need you dead." She winced slightly. Okay, that had come out wrong. "Not that we need -or want- you dead, obviously. Alive is much better than dead."

[rejectory]

@storiesbreathed: Standing over a body, “Oops.”

And the bullseye to which Claudia pins that shrug, of course, is the fattest glazed donut of status of the night, mustached from his perusals of the chocolate fountain; drain-necked from Claudia’s of him.

❝That’s the mayor.❞

Stay: the scruff of her dress chokes her back at a stammer like a wicked idiot wind-up toy.

Were he a mother, he’d smother her in kisses. For the journey. The ribbons of pain slid into the girlish braids she’s been told to sit still for by Louis. And what was it Louis said after? Oh, well?

He knuckles along the sacred space of secrets by her pear-shaped earring, coiling her forelock into an intimate complement to his ring. He yanks to the root. A Magnus anger has him.

❝Are you out of your mind?❞