okay nevermind all the episode fuckery we're used to the ballpit of denial anyway BUT I NEED ALEX WRITING MAGGIE BAD POETRY ALL THE TIME TO BE A THING OKAY? I JUST DO. And then maggie going omg danvers shakespeare is rolling in his grave but secretly enjoying the hell out of it that sweet dork.
It starts with that damn Valentine’s card, but it doesn’t end there.
It continues with a post-it note that Alex sticks onto Maggie’s coffee cop before she goes to bed one night a couple of weeks later.
“Coffee is good
Coffee is great
But instead of making it yourself
Can I take you on a breakfast date?”
Maggie chuckles and Maggie shakes her head, and she doesn’t stop smiling the entire ride on the back of Alex’s bike to this little diner they both love, because her sweet dork is just that: so, so sweet.
It happens again when Maggie’s rummaging through her gym bag, on an index card this time.
“You’re so hot
All the time
But especially when you’re working out
Damn you’re fine.”
She laughs so hard the woman in the locker room next to her raises her eyebrow, and she finds that she doesn’t care, because what did she do to get so lucky?
It happens with fair regularity, and it happens over the span of months, years.
Sometimes, the notes are at home – their home, now, officially, together – and sometimes, somehow, her secret agent girlfriend finds a way to get them in her locked desk at work, in her lab equipment.
She finds dinner invitations in her jacket pocket.
“Kara wants to do dinner tonight
And Adrian wants to come too,
I’m really excited,
Because I love my family with you.”
She discovers random reminders of her apparent beauty in the side of her boot.
“I saw the sunrise from a chopper
This morning on the job,
But it wasn’t nearly as beautiful as you,
My darling heartthrob.”
She uncovers Alex’s poems in her work notebooks, in her case files, in the box where she keeps her stamps.
“You are my sunshine
And I am your rain
Together we make a rainbow,
And rinse away all the pain.”
She keeps them all.
She jokes with James about how they’re going to have to find a bigger apartment, just to accommodate the ever-growing pile of notes.
But she never throws out a single one.
There is one, though, that they agree to frame.
The one that Alex slides across the table to her, eyes sparkling and nervous and full of life, full of love, full of hope, at a restaurant in the airport whose tarmac hosted their first encounter.
The one that makes Maggie smile hardest, the one that makes her heart soar highest.
I have learned pain
is the heart swelling with fuel
to push out of bed or
to smile at a stranger,
to forgive or lend a hand,
and it will fill up your chest
like a balloon ready to burst
so take a deep breath and let go
because only the love you spread
will help the pain end.
Soon, all my pain will ease away. My eyes will flutter closed as my arms hit the ground. Faintly, I can feel liquid dripping down my wrists, covering my hands and the ground in a thick red cloak that slowly seeps out. A smile will play on my lips as I finally digest the few hundred tablets I downed with a bottle of fine wine. My eyes begin to droop, my heart rate slows so gently. There is a light at the end of the tunnel. And I have finally reached it.
My last breath was a sigh of relief.
“He’s lying, Y/N!” Jughead yelled, fist coming down hard on the kitchen counter. The sound and force he used made you jump.
“He has no choice, Jughead.” You countered. You guys had been arguing for almost an hour, and it just wound up in you guys going around in circles. He would always argue that Archie was an ass. You’d always argue that Archie had no other options. It was never ending.
“God. First him, and now you.” Jughead sighed, bracing his hands against the counter to lean against it and hanging his head. “I can’t fight with both of you at the same time.”
“Then stop being an ass.” You snapped. Jughead glanced up at you, sighing once again before pushing away from the counter and reached out to grab your hand.
“Being an ass is what I’m good at.” He mused, earning a small smile from you. Rolling your eyes you gently bumped him with your shoulder before leaning up to kiss him.
At the end of the day, he isn’t you. At the end of the day, he doesn’t make my heart speed up and slow down at the same time; he hasn’t seen me through my darkest times. At the end of the day, he isn’t you–but that’s okay. No one will ever be you. You know what, though? He makes me laugh. He makes me smile. When he hugs me, I feel safe and warm. Yeah, he doesn’t make my heart speed up and slow down at the same time–but, in all honesty, that fucking hurts, and probably isn’t very good for me. Instead, he makes my hands stop shaking, and my mind stop racing. When I’m with him, I’m not thinking about you, but rather I’m thinking about how his laugh makes my heart happy, and how his eyes shine in the sun. So, yeah, maybe he isn’t you, but maybe you’re not what I need anymore.
Prompt: Can you do a tom holland imagine where the cast and reader is playing spin the bottle and the reader accidentally keeps getting haz and tom gets really jealous the reader and haz are kissing too many times
Your words came out slowly and with an under gruff tone. The morning after your birthday party wasn’t as festive and carefree as the night before. Instead, you woke up with a dry mouth and headache. Events of the night were mostly blurry or non-existent in your mind. Only recalling all the tequila you drank, the money you won and that you ended up in your apartment heavily drunk.
Sam scoffed with a small flat smile as he slid the hot coffee towards you. Inhaling the smell of brewed coffee made your insides flutter with joy. The smell of coffee being really satisfying in this moment of regret. Blowing air in order to cold the coffee before you took a small sip.
“Thank you,” you sighed placing the cup on the counter.
Sam nodded with a weak smile. “Babe?” he said softly catching your attention.
You watched him laid both hands above the kitchen counter. Something was off about him since both of you woke up this morning, being mostly silence and pensive. You gave Sam a nod with an arched eyebrow as answer instead asking what.
Sam clenched his jaw, “Do your remember anything that happened last night?”
real talk though in a Fae AU who would be the fairy and who would be the human?
honestly i can see Credence having a strange fascination with humans
and Graves is kind of a skeptic, one of those ‘i don’t believe in
He goes to some country village for a vacation and
all the locals are superstitious af and they warn him to watch for fairy
rings when he walks through the woods. Graves is kinda like ‘yeah,
sure, I’ll do that’
Graves does eventually wind up in the woods and he ends up walking right into a fairy ring naturally.
comes out looking like he does and Graves definitely believes someone
that pretty isn’t human. Then he realizes that means the locals were right
after all and his ‘oh, shit’ moment must show on his face cause Credence
just kinda smiles and promises that he’s not here to hurt him.
So they get to talking a little bit, Graves telling Credence that the villagers all warned him about how dangerous fairies are.
looks a little upset at that and when Graves presses he finds out that Credence is actually pretty lonely. Because of all the superstitions
about his kind, humans try and avoid Credence even though he really doesn’t
mean them any harm.
“So does that mean… I’m not really trapped in this thing?” Graves asks, glancing around at the toadstools.
Credence spreads his arms. “No. You’re free to go.”
Graves tries stepping over the toadstools and, sure enough, he isn’t stopped by anything.
Credence starts to fade back into the forest, but Graves stops him before he can leave completely.
“What do you want with humans, anyways?”
Credence glances back at him, shrugging. “Nothing, really. I’m just curious.”
Graves hesitates a bit, rubbing at the back of his neck. “I… guess I could stay for a bit. If you have any questions.”
Credence’s face lights up and he practically floats over to Graves, eyes shining. “I have so many.”
So they strike up this sort of unusual friendship with Graves heading into the woods every couple of days to see Credence while all the villagers sort of scratch their heads and wonder why he’s so eager to die.
and then you could probs throw something in there about Credence being a fairy prince or something, and his mother Mary Lou disapproves of humans and finds out about him sneaking off all the time to see Graves, like there are ways you could go with that
I can also see fairy King Graves, stern and determined to keep his people from harm by keeping them away from humans.
He knows what they’re like, they’ll probably want to cut them open, see what makes them tick, or at the very least try and steal fairy magic for their own.
So he sets up fairy rings and slowly they gain a reputation amongst humans for being dangerous things. ‘Go near the fairy rings and wind up dead.’
Credence doesn’t mean to stumble into one, but it’s dark in the woods and he’s not watching where he’s going, just desperate to get away from the oppressive church and the mother who’s not his mother.
Once he realizes what he’s done he’s scared, of course, but there’s also a small spark of relief. No more Mary Lou, no more scars, no more overwhelming guilt for being what he is…
Graves appears to find Credence sitting in the middle of the ring, arms wrapped around his legs, chin propped on his knees, looking amazingly calm for someone who’s supposedly about to die.
“Do you know what happens to people who step inside my rings?” Graves mutters darkly, thinking it’s possible that the young man is just incredibly ignorant.
But all Credence says is a quiet, “Yes.”
Graves has to admit, he’s a bit taken aback by the subdued response. “Then why aren’t you screaming? Or trying to escape?”
Credence just shrugs.
Slightly intrigued, Graves holds off on killing him. Instead, he decides to let Credence (who really does look quite pathetic) go with a warning to never mention the incident to anyone unless he wants Graves to come back and finish the job.
Credence agrees and sets back off to the village.
Graves watches him the next few days, determined to make sure that the boy isn’t going to tell anyone. But Credence is true to his word and keeps his mouth shut about fairies and their rings.
Unbeknownst to Credence, of course, Graves also sees who and what he lives with. Graves never has understood how humans could treat one of their own that way.
And one night he just kind of decides he’s had enough of sitting back and watching this happen, so he appears to Credence, tells him he knows what Mary Lou has been doing, and all Credence has to do is get Mary Lou out to a fairy ring, Graves will take care of the rest.
A few nights later Credence runs off again, making sure not to pull too far ahead this time so Mary Lou continues to follow him. He knows his way around better than she does, and so he skirts right around the fairy ring but she steps directly into it.
As soon as she realizes what Credence has done she starts screaming at him, warning him what she’ll do to him as soon as she gets out of this. But she never gets the chance to follow through on any of her threats.
Graves materializes out of nowhere, staring at Mary Lou with blank hatred in his eyes. “Go back to the village, Credence,” he says flatly.
You can’t unlove someone just like that. Three months, or even a year isn’t enough to forget the memories that person gave you. It takes a lifetime to let go of someone who gaves us happiness, tears in our eyes. Forgetting them is like taking a piece of yourself away from your body, because of them you are what you become today. A stronger person. You can’t unlove a person who gave you reasons to smile and live again. It’s not easy to move on because once, they become your path to walk on, life to live on, and a memory to cherish till the end. That love we have for those who walked away will always be there because all we wanted is their happiness. And that too, makes us happy, even if it means not having them.
Prompt: Can you please where Kaldur'ahm/Aqualad (YJ) is taking the reader (who is either a civilian or a superhero that the team isn’t familiar with) on a date and the team decides to stalk them during their date and somehow in the end, they get busted/caught?
“I’m having so much fun tonight, Kaldur.” You said as you walked hand in hand down the pier. “I wish tonight would never end.” You sighed and leaned your head on his arm. He glanced down and smiled at how peaceful you looked with him.
“Me too.” He said.
The two of you walked in comfortable silence for awhile, the only sound being the waves crashing against the shore. It was just you, him, and the occasional passerby but for the most part the two of you were alone. As you were starting to get tired you noticed that a small group of teens had been following you for some time.
“Hey Kaldur? I think someone is tailing us.” You whispered low enough so that your shadows wouldn’t hear. Kaldur casually glanced behind him and his hand slid to the hilt of his water bearer that was hidden on his hip. The pair following you caught the motion and stopped in their tracks.
“Shit Rob! Run!” An all too familiar voice yelled before sprinting in a suspiciously fast pace in the opposite direction.
“I told you this was a bad idea!” Robin called to Wally as he ran after him. When they disappeared off into the distance you turned to Kaldur with a perplexed look on your face.
And time will eventually knock on my door And tell me I’m not needed around anymore But he’ll hold me so close at the end of the day When I’m quiet I can nearly hear him say Smile, the worst is yet to come.
We’ll be lucky if we ever see the sun Got nowhere to turn, and we’ve got nothing but time But the future is forever, the future is forever So smile, so smile, so smile.
[Y/N] shot up out of dead sleep, her heart pounding, the sound of what sounded like an elephant slamming into her bedroom scared the living daylights out of her. She scanned her room, her eyes still cloudy from having just woken up. [Y/N] heard the moaning and groaning of a particular person who meant the absolute world to her coming from just below her bedroom window.
“Peter?” She gasped as she threw the covers off of her and scrambled towards him. She clapped her hands three times to turn on the lamp just beside them. Her heart stopped as the light illuminated the cuts and bruises tainting his skin. “Oh, Peter.” [Y/N] said softly. Bringing him up on her bed gently, she rushed to her bathroom to grab the first aid kit she had started to keep under her sink.
She worked on him for about an hour, taking her time and instructing him to stay still and being mindful of the pain he must be feeling. After she was done, she tied up the trash-bag of bloody cotton balls and gauze and sat down in front of him on her computer chair.
[Y/N] gave him a soft smile as she ran a hand gently over his cheek. “Smile, love.”
“Why?” He mumbled as he winced in trying to remove his spider suit.
Getting up, she walked over towards her closet and pulled out a tshirt and pajama pants that she also so conveniently started keeping. “Because the worse is yet to come and tomorrow will be a better day.”
Peter groaned out in pain but stomached the rest of it and threw on the clothes [Y/N] had handed him. “I almost got killed, [Y/N].” He said bitterly, “Literally. I swear I even died once and then came back to life in time to get away.”
“Well, this is the life you wanted to live, Peter.” She said softly, sitting back down in her chair, she scooted up close. Grabbing his hands, she laced them with hers. “I promised you that I would always be your light because you told me that it’s easy to give up in the middle of these fights. Now, it’s not easy to see you like this, believe me. It’s taking everything I have to not cry because I’m afraid for you. But I can’t show it because I made a promise to always be positive and to keep you coming home.” She brushed her lips against his for a moment, “Time will knock on your door and when it does, I’ll be sad but I know that you wanted this and I can’t change who you are because what kind of person would that make me? An awful and selfish one. And I’m not like that even though I want to be. I’m here,” scooting a little closer, “to remind you to smile and that yes, you almost died tonight and as much as I would love to convince you to never go back out again, I can’t and you know you can’t.”
Peter swallowed hard, fighting the pain, he wrapped his arms around her tight. Using his aching muscles to hold her against him. Pressing a kiss to her forehead, he mumbled against her skin, “So smile. That’s what I have to do, just smile.”
Currently gushing over Barry smiling at Iris this ep. First w/ his blatant innuendo at the end (boy!) & I just discovered (must’ve been looking away while I LT’d lol) his insane giddy smile when Iris said “I’m serious!” in their earlier scene.
Sometimes one life, if it’s the right life, it’s enough.
And then there’s this smile. The finale smile. A smile so incredibly emotional and tender. John is happy because Harold is going to make it. Harold is walking away to his happy ending. John doesn’t care about dying. He’s accepted death as inevitable a long time ago. What he cares about is everyone else. What matters to him is what he does in the meantime. And above all, protecting Harold. Because Harold saved his life, and saves lives. Harold is one of the those persons the world can’t afford to lose, and that John can’t afford to lose. He couldn’t save Jessica, he couldn’t save Joss. But he saved Harold. And really, that’s all that matters to him.
And in that smile, you can read the affection and gratitude for the man who saved his life, and gave him another chance. The man who gave him the opportunity to be the hero John always wanted to be. And in that smile, you can read the satisfaction of having finally succeeded in saving the one life that matters.
Yes I cried, yes it still hurts. Yes, it’s just not exactly the same to
look up at a surveillance camera, cause now if my number comes up, it’s
not John who’ll come to my rescue.
I cried, but at the same time, I never felt as much love for John, because this is exactly why I love him so much.
John is one of the most selfless persons in the world. He always puts you before him. He literally puts himself between you and danger. He takes the bullet for you. That’s just who John is. It’s in his DNA. He protects people. And that’s his purpose in life. That’s who he chose to be, who he wants to be.
So that smile means everything to me. It tells me that John died a happy man. At peace with himself, with the satisfaction of knowing the mission was accomplished. In the show, he’s cheated death more than once. He even died twice in simulations. Every time, those deaths would have been defeats. Betrayals, unexpected lucky shots or even his own hand…. But here, on that rooftop, it was his moment, his choice, his victory. For Harold, for the team, for the world.
So it’s like that smile is also a little bit for me, telling me “it’s okay, I’m happy. There’s nowhere I’d rather be.”
(Sidenote: I know lots of fans didn’t like the finale and have strong feelings against it. I respect that, but I would ask you to respect the fact that I do love the finale, and thus to refrain from using this post to spread negativity against the show, the finale or the writers. Thank you ♥)
Tani’s entrance onto the glowing stage comes precluded by the telling chime of far too many bells. He emerges in a relative swathe of lilac silk, tethered about his waist by a single pale tie fastened with a dozen swaying tassels. His golden harp is cradled in his arms, and slung upon his belt by a small, jutting amethyst, sits a rounded, drum-headed tambourine.
Three bells have been tied to the end of his tail with a single, velvet-white ribbon brought into an exaggerated bow over sandy fur that partly engulfs it, curled away from the stage floor as if to quell their telling chimes. There is a smile still upon his painted lips, and he shakes his head loosely at Savo’s introduction as his gaze drifts low.
He comes to a halt at the heart of the glowing stage, blue and white lights reflect, and refract from his freckle-dotted features as he adjusts his grasp upon the lire. He reaches back, and he tucks the tambourine from his waist. He shifts it into his grasp, and he holds it before himself- looking between it, and his harp, with abject concern.
It’s as if he doesn’t know which he’d rather play, as if he hasn’t thought this far ahead. He turns the tambourine over. His tail flickers in a quiet -chime- of his added bells, and he straightens. He squares his shoulders, and he moves forwards upon the stage. The courtesan’s steps are deliberate, and focussed. He zeroes in upon Chouwa Morrison.
Slipping in a smooth swathe of wrinkled fabric from the polished edge, he offers the tambourine wordlessly to Chouwa. A well-intended smile accompanies the gesture, and a small downward tilt of his head that has his artfully-arranged, gold-spun curls bouncing. He gives the little tambourine a small shake, turning aside to hug the lyre to his chest with his opposing hand, waiting for the tambourine to be taken.
That delicate hand withdraws, and his tail whisks, pleased. “When I point,” He starts, meeting Chouwa’s gaze, evenly. “Start playin’ in time. Not too fast.” He adds, lifting his hand to fold all fingers to his palm save for his index. He gives it a smooth wag. “If you do a good job, I’ll give you somethin’ nice.” His words come punctured by a sly wink, before he turns away.
Slender, claw-tipped hands move back toward the golden instrument in his arms. Tani angles it back to himself, moving to stand in the heart of the room, between the plush couches filled with waiting, wanting figures. His weight shifts onto his left leg, his right props against the base of the harp. His right hand settles at the bottom of the frame to hold it close.
His left hand settles along the winking gold-spun strings. Lilac-tipped fingers splay, and his full lips purse as his ring-laden ears flicker forwards in a quiet click-click of one too many jewels. Silence falls, and Tani visibly -swallows-. He closes his eyes, and at last- his fingers begin to move; plucking smoothly at his iridescent strings.
They are succinct, sharp, staccato; overtaken by the next bar the moment they’ve had their chance at audibility; deep, bass, and rhythmic. He nods his head slowly in time to them, eyes glued to his moving fingertips as they splay, and pluck at corded thread. His lips purse, his ears flicker, and his gaze lifts as he draws in a short breath; and begins to sing. His voice is smooth, alto, velveteen.
“Baby, can’t you see? I’m callin’.♪” The corners of his lips curl up into a faint -smirk-, he rolls his gaze toward the gilded ceiling as he tips his head aside, blonde curls spilling loosely over a gilded, narrow shoulder. “A guy like you should wear a warnin’, it’s dangerous, an’ I’m fallin’~..♪”
He falls silent again, contemplative gaze dropping to his iridescent strings as his fingertips continue to move across them. His tail lifts, it curls back toward him, before lazily flicking downward- urging a singular, sharp chime from his glimmering gold-edged bells.
“There’s no escape. I can’t wait.♪” His tail flicks again, sharply downward, before lifting back toward the sway of his backside for -another-, before falling still.
“I need a hit, baby gimme it. ♪”
“You’re dangerous, an’ I’m lovin’ it. ♪”
He lifts his chin, drawing his attention away from his fingertips; he doesn’t need to -look-. He’s practiced these notes enough times for his touch to callous. He spins on the pointed tip of his stiletto heel as he moves towards L’yhta Mahre, steps slow, graceful, deliberate, and punctured by a small flourish of lilac silk as he draws in a smooth breath past painted, too-full lips.
“To high, can’t come down. ♪”
“Losin’ my head, spinnin’ round an’.. round. ♪”
A coy smile overtakes his painted lips as he bends at the waist until he’s eye level to L’yhta Mahre. He presses them out into a puckering tail as his tail flicks behind him, ringing those tethered bells as he meets L’hyta’s gaze, he tips his head aside, and sings; “Do you feel me now? ♪”
He straightens with a too-wide grin. He turns, sharply, his tail whisks after him, and he lifts a slender hand from his lyre to point back toward Chouwa with a well-intended smile, time to start playing!
That smile widens, framed by his dimples, drowned in his freckles as the tambourine is lifted, and struck. He dips into his chorus with a visible, and relieved lift to his smile. He breathes in, his shoulders lift. “Taste of your lips, I’m on a ride~..♪” He turns in place, he bends at the knees, as if moments away from -collapsing-. “You’re toxic, I’m slippin’ on the way~..♪”
“The taste of your poison paradise, I’m addicted to you, don’t you know that you’re toxic?♪” His voice wavers, his eyes press closed, his pitch remains impeccable as his voice articulates his words, never once cracking, remaining as smooth as the velvet he cultivates as his fingers shift, and play, as his tail lifts, and flicks in time with Chouwa’s tambourine.
“Man, I love what you do, don’t you know that you’re toxic?♪”
He leaves the chorus behind as he steps reluctantly from L’yhta Mahre, tail whisking across her lap in parting as he ventures back toward the vacant aisle. “It’s gettin’ late.♪”
“..to give you up.♪”
“I took a sip from my devil’s cup. ♪”
“Slowly, it’s takin’ over me. ♪”
He turns in place again, the stiletto steel of his boot grinds on marble as he whisks onto the balls of his feet, before sinking back. He draws in a steadying breath.
“Too high, can’t come down~.. ♪ losin’ my head, spinnin’ round an’ round. ♪”
He shakes his head, half-hearted smile still in place as his gaze drops to his splayed fingertips as his thumb catches upon a treble note; his gaze flickers up, aether-bright mismatched blue settling upon Juno Iskandi as his slender brows give an inquisitive perk for his alto words to purr, “Do you feel me now? ♪”
That too-thick tail gives another loose flick as he turns away, head tipping back, hair sweeping loosely from his shoulders as he turns away, as he ventures further down the aisle toward the sectioned-off bar. He presses in enough to brush to the edge of the alcohol-infused surface as he meets Rheya Tayuun’s gaze; fingers lifting from his harp for a fraction of a second to offer a half-hearted finger-wiggle wave, smile entirely too self-satisfied.
“Taste of your lips I’m on a ride~..♪”
He shakes his head, all but serenading poor Rheya. “You’re toxic, I’m slippin’ on the way. ♪ The taste of your poison paradise~.. ♪ I’m addicted to you, don’t you know that you’re toxic? ♪”
“Man, I love what you do, don’t you know that you’re toxic? ♪”
The courtesan steps aside until he’s before Renaux Mercier, he tips his head aside, lifting his hand from his lyre to tap a fingertip to the crest of his cheek in open indication, waiting for the poor Duskwight to grant him a kiss there; heel drawing toward his opposing ankle to tap his rhythm on the smooth tiles as he sings.
“..-yeah I love what you do, don’t you know that you’re toxic..? ♪”
That smile broadens as his kiss is granted, he steps away, heading back along the edge of the arranged seating toward the stage, or rather- back toward his attentive tambourine player as his notes slide smoothly into their offbeat rift- like every song Tani plays, somehow wrong in every way it should be right. Debased, where it ought to be proper.
He comes to a halt by Chouwa, and spares her a knowing look as his fingers resume their methodical, temporal plucks across his lyre. His weight bares aside as he shifts into the aisle once more, turning aside to face back toward the audience as his tail continues to flick in time with the tambourine’s helpful thrum.
“..taste of your lips, I’m on a ride. ♪” He exhales, his shoulders lift, and lower, cheeks almost vibrant enough to match the red to his lips.
“You’re toxic I’m.. slippin’ on the way. ♪”
“The taste of your poison paradise~.. I’m addicted to you, don’t you know that you’re toxic? ♪” He tips his head aside, nodding in time to their smooth notes for a moment.
His hand shoots out, briefly touching hold to Chouwa’s wrist to still her notes, to silence his lyre in the very same gesture as his smile broadens as that last note carries, and his tail lifts.
“Man, I love what you do, don’t you know that you’re toxic? ♪”
Tani releases him, a moment later. His hand flies back to his harp, his tail sways, he nods for Chouwa Morrison to continue on the tambourine as he draws in a slow breath to dip into his final chorus; one filled with as much intensity as his alto voice is capable of producing.
“..-intoxicate me now, with your lovin’ now. ♪”
“I think I’m ready now. ♪”
The courtesan’s vice lowers, his smile turns salacious, far too wide and framed by Keeper-characteristic pointed fangs as his tail whisks ardently behind him, as his fingertips strip across the lyre. The stiletto heel of his boot tap-tap-taps along marble in time to his rhythm until his entire, slighter frame bobs smoothly to their joint, offbeat melody.
“I think I’m ready now. ♪”
“Intoxicate me now. With your lovin’ now. ♪”
“I think I’m ready now. ♪”
“Intoxicate me now. With your lovin’ now. ♪”
“I think I’m ready now. I think I’m ready now. ♪”
“Intoxicate me now. With your lovin’, now. ♪”
Tani’s head tips back, his blonde curls come spilling over his shoulders as his voice lifts, as it wavers, as it accompanies their tempo as if to compliment it, perfect, lilting; and the most confidence the slight courtesan has ever cultivated while singing. It fills the chamber, his eyes press closed, and his ears pin back.
“I think I’m ready now~..! ♪”
His fingers fall still, his hand lowers to sweep across Chouwa’s gifted tambourine to stop her from continuing; delicate fingertips threading through her own with a slight tilt to carry out the last of the glimmering bells’ slithering rhythm until silence falls, until it’s only his quiet, velvet-smooth voice to end his song.
“Intoxicate me, now.”
His smile returns as his hand draws away. He withdraws the harp back toward himself, tucking it under his arm as he drops his free hand to grasp hold of his gilded robes as he dips into a smooth, fluid, graceful half-curtsey-half-bow, one foot swept behind the other for propriety before he straightens.
Tani steps forwards, passing his harp from one hand to the other to pluck at Chouwa Morrison’s sleeve, gesturing for her to stand!
He slips aside, and gestures openly to Chouwa with a too-wide smile in place as he sinks into his little curtsey-bow again, nodding to his play-companion for the eve with a well-intended smile. “Thank you! Thank you-..” He holds out a hand to accept his tambourine back.
The courtesan leans in as it’s returned, head tipped aside to press a lipstick-edged kiss into poor Chouwa’s cheek, careful, gentle, feather-light, but firm enough to leave a visible imprint of stained-merlot behind in his wake as he straightens, as he takes a small step back, and lifts the tambourine above his head as he turns back to the stage.
Tani steps back onto it, and lifts his tail to tether about the sway of his waist as he glides smoothly across polished cedar, and vanishes beyond the broad, red-painted partition.