llamafordrama | texts from your ex

From:

salvatorn

From:

bonnfire

E) None of the above.

[Because there's no way to sum up "I don't want you to leave but I also don't want to admit you're attractive because of Elena-shaped reasons."]

Besides, an automatic response app? Seriously?

From:

salvatorn

[Actually, not seriously at all. Damon typed out every single letter of that ridiculous response — it seemed like a good idea at the time.

Still seems like a good idea, actually, because he's drunk and In A Mood.]

Sorry, that is not a valid response. Please try again.

From:

bonnfire

[Uh-oh. Bonnie doesn't have to think twice on what she'll actually text him back.]

A.

BTW, I'm on my way over.

From:

salvatorn

[Well fuck, the little witch is coming over. Sometimes Damon wonders if she's a witch or a superhero, because her Disapproving Stare should be considered a superpower. He wants to tell her no, stop, don't bother, he really does not want her Disapproving Stare's company at all, but texting her that would be so much effort. And it wouldn't work. Occasionally — very occasionally — Elena can be made to see reason. But Bonnie? She operates strictly by her own internal code. Trying to stop her is like trying to stop a volcano. A stubborn, quiet, incredibly attractive volcano that just wants to protect people.

God she's so annoying.

He reaches into the liquor cabinet and grabs another bottle of whiskey. He's not drunk enough for any of this.]

From:

bonnfire

[She's late, because she's always late even when she says she's on her way over. In hindsight, she should've waited another ten minutes to tell him, but she arrives at that front door and knocks on it.

Normally, she'd barge in and berate some life choices. Normally, she also wouldn't be so concerned. Whatever's got him in this foul a mood can't be good.]

From:

salvatorn

[He's decided to just not answer the door, except his traitorous legs have already walked him over, and the hand not distracted by his liquor bottle is on the handle. (Why is he surprised? Everything betrays him in the end.)]

I think you've got the wrong house. The bachelor party is that way. [He gestures vaguely in some direction.] I didn't order any strippers.

[A very very tiny part of him feels a little bad about insulting her like that. Another part reminds him of all the lovely strippers he's known, some of whom he hadn't even killed. But mostly he wants her to go away because he's having a pity party and two's a crowd.]

From:

bonnfire

[That would've almost been funny. Almost, because his mood must've been terrible for that kind of insult. She raises her eyebrows at him, before allowing herself into the Manor. God, it smells like bourbon, bourbon, and more bourbon.]

They couldn't afford me anyways.

[She pauses, turning around to face him. More seriously, because she's tired of their game,] What happened?

From:

salvatorn

[You may be tired of the game, Bonnie, but that doesn't mean it's over. Damon has spent over a hundred years hiding his feelings in biting sarcasm and bitter humor. He doesn't really have any other way of processing them ... Well, unless you count liquor and blood victims.]

What happened? Well, you texted me, I texted back, you decided to come over and here you are. I thought I was supposed to be the blackout drunk. Don't tell me you're going senile already. You humans, you lose your minds so fast...

From:

bonnfire

[She'll play along and huff and puff, even if her mock disgust doesn't reach her eyes. There's genuine worry as she glances down at that bottle.]

It's also a little early to be blackout drunk. [She thinks. In Mystic Falls, it's hard to tell.] I don't know about vampires but us mortals usually wait until after dinner.

From:

salvatorn

I've never been good at waiting.

[He can't help a bitter laugh, because that's probably the biggest lie he's ever told. He waited a hundred and fifty years for Katherine. He's been waiting for the past X years for Elena. Waiting like a pathetic lovelorn idiot is his one great talent.

That's not even why he's upset tonight, though it is a nice angst-cherry on the misery sundae. (Worst sundae ever.)

He shakes off the thoughts and takes another swig of the bourbon, only to find the bottle empty.]

I'm going to open another bottle. Do you want a glass, or will we pass the bottle between us like tweens who stole one from their parent's liquor cabinet?

From:

bonnfire - Date: 2016-04-02 05:36 am (UTC) - Expand

From:

icanfix

From:

anatural

From:

mortemscintilla

From:

anatural

[Korra stares at her phone. Oh he did not. That snide, condescending ... ARGH!

Don't engage, Asami had told her, but Korra has never been good at not responding when provoked.]

Then why bother texting me?!

From:

mortemscintilla

[ Why bother? Good question. It would take him a heartbeat to piece together artful bullshit for an answer. If there's is anything BK201 excels at, it is the ability to sustain complex lies. Except the other thing he excels at, apparently, is his spectacular failure to either forget this girl or win her back. All his attempts to so far have ended in carnage and disaster. ]

[ Sometimes the literal type. ]

[ So he goes with: ]

I want to return your things.

[ You know: ex-girlfriend spoor. Clothes. Toiletries. The extra set of keys. That silly blue toothbrush with its mustache-shaped holder. The enormous foil-wrapped burrito bowl occupying three-fifths of the space in the fridge. ]

[ Oh wait. He already ate that. Oops. ]

From:

anatural

[There's nothing he has that she actually needs. She's already replaced the clothes, and that toothbrush & holder was 99 cents. There's nothing she misses ... except him.]

You know my address.

[By which she means just mail it to her, but the phrasing is ambiguous. She's doing a terrible job of not engaging.]

From:

mortemscintilla

[ So: UPS? Delivery in-person? He can't tell. Hates the way a jumble of letters on a screen can stall his brain. Hates too, the opacity and one-dimensionalism that goes hand-in-hand with technology. Hei is good at dealing with people on a personal level. It's never words he's interested in, but their subtext. It's in the spaces between the delivery, the nuances of voice, body-language, expression, that you learn a target's weak-points. ]

[ Not that Korra is a target. But he's spent so long defining anyone beyond his team's sphere as such, that the distinction barely matters at this point. ]

[ Which is why all he thumbs out is: ]

I'll drop by at 5.

From:

anatural

[She should tell him to just mail it, or say she won't be home so just leave it at the door. This? All of this? Is the absolute wrong thing to do, and she knows it because they've danced this dance before. Never quite like this — their other breakups have basically been petty arguments in comparison — but this is how it happens. They argue, she decides never to see him again, he sends her a message and she's drawn right back in.

So instead of doing the smart thing, she's waiting for him at 5 o'clock. Determined to make this the last time he invades her life (and knowing that it won't be, because nothing about him is ever that easy).]

From:

mortemscintilla

[ He's prepared to treat this as a job. No different from a bang-and-burn operation -- everything tough and efficient and mess-free. Just ring the doorbell, hand her the cardboard box of things, then go. No chitchat, no lingering. He doesn't have to be controlled by wayward impulse. Command over every iota of your -- (sentiments?) -- impulses may be an illusion. But Hei has always controlled himself largely by refusing to do anything but exactly what he wants to do. He isn't a gawking teenager whose voice has just cracked. There are always things he can do to create the right outcome. ]

[ Which outcome is that, exactly? ]

[ He stops at Korra's door and feels a renewal of ... (nervousness? anxiety?) ... something, as if passing that threshold and being enclosed in her space is like being submerged in volatile and unsteady headwaters. He is either going to float, or drown. ]

[ Shaking it off, he narrows his eyes. His calm knock isn't a lie. But neither is it the perfect truth. ]

From:

anatural

[She practically opens the door before he can finish knocking.]

Hi.

[It's less angry than all of her text messages, less angry than all the things she wants to say because it's been a month since she's seen him last and having him standing there -- warm, alive, radiating energy -- throws her for a loop. For a moment she can't even remember why they're fighting.]

From:

mortemscintilla

[ His pulse doesn't kick up -- but there is that half-familiar, thrilling tension locked in his chest. (It makes him furious with himself -- has it been that long since he's been out of the game?) Hei breathes slowly, his expression ironed flat under the weight of her gaze. As if it's nothing to see her after a whole month. As if the nostalgia isn't a hot ripcurl surging up his chest. Her face, framed in its streamers of dark fur, is as fresh and fine as ever, and her eyes hold that concentrated brightness that still unbalances him as surely as a sniper's beam. ]

[ There's a moment of frozen uncertainty. Korra's reflexes seem trapped by an unvoiced wish for more time, for a few more precious seconds to decide what to do. Hei decides faster. It isn't even a decision as such, more a reflex honed by a lifetime of offense/defense. A reflex that was delayed by his unaccustomed emotional state, but that now, as he recognizes the threat to his own equilibrium, snaps efficiently into place. ]

Here.

[ He hefts the cardboard box as if it's a needful barrier between them. ]

From:

anatural

[Korra hesitates, then reaches out to take the box ... but stops short.]

Why? Why did you do it? [She doesn't need the stuff; she needs an answer she can understand.]

From:

hoppsandchange

the roleplaying shenanigans of katie

texts from your ex