#sharp.teeth

[blcksappho]

– rock me like a _

[ closed thread ] FIGHTING with @blckbuttercup

this is how it starts:

they’ve been arguing again. it’s something stupid that sappho can’t even think about anymore. life’s too short to bear grudges but it’s long enough now not to address them. so one of them – she’s not quite sure which – proposes to actually fight before they duke it out in their own apartment and potentially ruin furniture in the process. by now they’re constants at the training grounds, and in this late hour, with this much alcohol in both of them, it’s easy to think that they can take each other on.

this is how it starts: sappho will insist that buttercup drew her close first. she’ll swear it until her face turns blue.

this is how it starts:

– sappho kisses first, and says her name like a prayer.

“yura,” she mumbles, drunk and bruised all over again, pressed against the floor with her hands in her girlfriend’s shirt, “can we stop fighting already?” but she doesn’t say that she’s given up. there’s still fight in her yet.  

[blcksappho]

– a pearl

[ closed thread ] SPA DAY with @blckgemini

the collective may have made monsters out of them, but that doesn’t mean that sappho has forgotten what it’s like to treat herself to a good spa day. it’s indulgent, it’s classy, and it’s a good way to take care of herself – and the powers that be know that she damn well deserves it. so does her close companion, and the closest she’d get to calling anyone her best friend (aside, of course, from buttercup, but that’s a tumultuous and ambivalent relationship that she’d rather have massaged from her shoulders than have to carry the burden for too long). of course, friendships in their world are hardly fashioned after and follow the traditional norms. sappho would still use gemini’s body as a human shield if it came down to it. 

that doesn’t stop her from appreciating the girl’s body when they’re being massaged, though, face-down on the massage table and all the hardened muscles rolling under experienced hands of faceless workers. sappho doesn’t make an attempt to look away, instead turning to face gemini, propping her cheek against folded arms beneath. 

“so,” she starts, giving a low groan and a small yes, there – mm... before focusing on gemini again, gaze wandering down to the curve of her back, and lower still... “are we having cocktails or kombucha today, baby girl? as much as i’d love to go the healthy route, you know how much i’m willing to indulge your current fixations, but i looked at the menu for today and that’s what they have. we should’ve come on a thursday – i’m aching for a mimosa.”

[blcksappho]

– cold air

[ closed thread ] SPARRING with @blckrhea

as much as sappho likes to insist that she cares very little for rookies – the more of them die, the less competition she has to deal with – and especially for rookies of different factions, there’s still some human in there, hidden vulnerable beneath the gloves she wears on a saturday morning, sporting a throbbing headache and the remnants of a hangover, showing up to spar with rhea in the ring that’s seen its fair share of blood and sweat. rookies may as well be fertiliser with the rate they’re dropping off of the games, buried in earth (if they have that privilege), but they are sometimes needed for team missions, and sappho would rather not be one man short of a six-man mission. the useless ones are culled, and useless rookies are a burden on everyone, even after they die. 

sappho doesn’t bother to wrap her hands today. this’ll be quick enough, she hopes, and intensive. “you’re lucky i need to sweat out the alcohol,” she says upon arrival. no hellos, no greetings. 11 am is too early an hour for niceties. (arguably, every hour is too early an hour for niceties.) “are you ready?”

no, sappho does not care if her young page is ready for this. their bodies have been modified, true enough, but science cannot grant idiots experience enough to survive on their own. she zips down her jacket and steps in the ring, tying her hair up with the band that had been around her wrist. she raises her fists not to attack, but to defend. “come on,” she urges, not as a taunt but in impatience. “come at me, rookie.” 

[blcksappho]

– a bed in your shape.

[ closed thread ] DRINKING GOOD with @bombshellblck

contrary to popular belief, sappho does not have too many trysts. they’re not affairs – that’d imply that her girlfriend isn’t aware (and encouraging) of it. a hungry heart that matches an aching body would never be accepted outside blcktmpl. her desires wouldn’t be, either, but among people who knew nothing but death and pain and hurt, there’s plenty who seek the exact opposite when they’re not in mortal danger. no matter how much they’re made out as superior gods, they’re still mortal. still susceptible. still insatiable.

she heads towards the bar for more than a drink. this place is home to many of the lost. the music is sub-par, but good enough. better than the sound of death, of course, which is horribly morbid – there’s alcohol enough to drown that out. 

“give me two of what she just finished,” she calls out, taking the seat next to the woman without any invitation. her sleeves are rolled up, and when she rests her elbow on the bar, the barcode on her wrist is painfully obvious: an invitation of her own for the woman to show hers, if she has one, or to admire sappho’s if she doesn’t. she looks at the woman with clear approval, but with enough shame. “i’m so sorry that we haven’t drank together before, darling. it’s my mistake. let me make up for that.” she’s easy to smile, easy to extend the woman’s drink to her. “call me sappho, if you haven’t called me yet.”

[blcksappho]

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