#Lyrical craftsmanship

[blueheartbookclub]

"Navigating the Celestial Odyssey: Apollonius Rhodius' 'The Argonautica' in the Lyrical Rhythms of R. C. Seaton's Translation"

"The Argonautica" by Apollonius Rhodius, elegantly translated by R. C. Seaton, emerges as a literary gem that weaves the tale of the heroic quest for the Golden Fleece into the fabric of ancient Greek epic poetry. This classical masterpiece, written in the third century BCE, invites readers into the mythical world of heroes, gods, and maritime adventures. The title itself hints at the epic journey undertaken by the Argonauts and the rich tapestry of myths that unfold in Seaton's poetic rendering.

Seaton's translation captures the spirit of Apollonius Rhodius' original work, breathing life into the archaic verses while maintaining fidelity to the poetic essence of the ancient Greek epic. The title serves as a prelude to an odyssey that transcends mortal realms, navigating the cosmic expanse and the turbulent seas that define the Argonauts' quest. Seaton's lyrical craftsmanship transforms the narrative into a symphony of words, each stanza resonating with the echoes of antiquity.

At the core of "The Argonautica" is the heroic journey of Jason and his companions, the Argonauts, as they embark on a perilous expedition to retrieve the Golden Fleece. Seaton's translation masterfully conveys the heroism, camaraderie, and divine interventions that characterize this mythic voyage. The title acts as a compass, guiding readers through the labyrinthine narratives that unfold in the wake of the Argo's sails.

One of the notable features of Seaton's translation is his ability to preserve the nuances of Apollonius Rhodius' language, allowing readers to savor the intricacies of the poet's narrative technique. The title becomes a doorway to the ancient Greek world, beckoning readers to immerse themselves in the vibrant imagery, divine interventions, and the cosmic forces that shape the destiny of the Argonauts.

The multifaceted characters of "The Argonautica" come alive in Seaton's translation, each imbued with distinct personalities and motivations. From Jason's quest for glory to Medea's complex role as both lover and sorceress, the title encapsulates the ensemble of characters whose fates intertwine amidst the celestial currents. Seaton's translation skillfully navigates the emotional depths of these characters, breathing humanity into the larger-than-life figures of Greek mythology.

As the Argonauts encounter mythical beings, face treacherous challenges, and traverse uncharted waters, Seaton's translation maintains a delicate balance between the epic and the lyrical. The title becomes a beacon, illuminating the narrative twists and turns that mirror the celestial constellations guiding the Argo through the cosmos. Seaton's poetic rendering captures the awe-inspiring beauty and perilous nature of the ancient mariner's journey.

"The Argonautica" is not merely an adventure tale; it is a tapestry of myths interwoven with themes of destiny, love, and divine intervention. Seaton's translation accentuates the nuanced connections between mortal aspirations and the whims of the gods. The title beckons readers to explore the mythic undercurrents that flow beneath the surface of the narrative, inviting contemplation on the intersection of mortal agency and divine influence.

In conclusion, R. C. Seaton's translation of Apollonius Rhodius' "The Argonautica" is a poetic voyage that resonates with the majesty of ancient Greek epic storytelling. The title encapsulates the essence of this celestial odyssey, promising readers an immersion into the mythical realms that have captivated audiences for centuries. Seaton's lyrical prowess breathes new life into the age-old verses, ensuring that the adventures of the Argonauts continue to inspire awe and wonder in the hearts of contemporary readers.

"The Argonautica" by Apollonius Rhodius is available in Amazon in paperback 12.99$ and hardcover 20.99$ editions.

Number of pages: 219

Language: English

Rating: 9/10                                           

Link of the book!

Review By: King's Cat

[blueheartbooks]

"Navigating the Celestial Odyssey: Apollonius Rhodius' 'The Argonautica' in the Lyrical Rhythms of R. C. Seaton's Translation"

"The Argonautica" by Apollonius Rhodius, elegantly translated by R. C. Seaton, emerges as a literary gem that weaves the tale of the heroic quest for the Golden Fleece into the fabric of ancient Greek epic poetry. This classical masterpiece, written in the third century BCE, invites readers into the mythical world of heroes, gods, and maritime adventures. The title itself hints at the epic journey undertaken by the Argonauts and the rich tapestry of myths that unfold in Seaton's poetic rendering.

Seaton's translation captures the spirit of Apollonius Rhodius' original work, breathing life into the archaic verses while maintaining fidelity to the poetic essence of the ancient Greek epic. The title serves as a prelude to an odyssey that transcends mortal realms, navigating the cosmic expanse and the turbulent seas that define the Argonauts' quest. Seaton's lyrical craftsmanship transforms the narrative into a symphony of words, each stanza resonating with the echoes of antiquity.

At the core of "The Argonautica" is the heroic journey of Jason and his companions, the Argonauts, as they embark on a perilous expedition to retrieve the Golden Fleece. Seaton's translation masterfully conveys the heroism, camaraderie, and divine interventions that characterize this mythic voyage. The title acts as a compass, guiding readers through the labyrinthine narratives that unfold in the wake of the Argo's sails.

One of the notable features of Seaton's translation is his ability to preserve the nuances of Apollonius Rhodius' language, allowing readers to savor the intricacies of the poet's narrative technique. The title becomes a doorway to the ancient Greek world, beckoning readers to immerse themselves in the vibrant imagery, divine interventions, and the cosmic forces that shape the destiny of the Argonauts.

The multifaceted characters of "The Argonautica" come alive in Seaton's translation, each imbued with distinct personalities and motivations. From Jason's quest for glory to Medea's complex role as both lover and sorceress, the title encapsulates the ensemble of characters whose fates intertwine amidst the celestial currents. Seaton's translation skillfully navigates the emotional depths of these characters, breathing humanity into the larger-than-life figures of Greek mythology.

As the Argonauts encounter mythical beings, face treacherous challenges, and traverse uncharted waters, Seaton's translation maintains a delicate balance between the epic and the lyrical. The title becomes a beacon, illuminating the narrative twists and turns that mirror the celestial constellations guiding the Argo through the cosmos. Seaton's poetic rendering captures the awe-inspiring beauty and perilous nature of the ancient mariner's journey.

"The Argonautica" is not merely an adventure tale; it is a tapestry of myths interwoven with themes of destiny, love, and divine intervention. Seaton's translation accentuates the nuanced connections between mortal aspirations and the whims of the gods. The title beckons readers to explore the mythic undercurrents that flow beneath the surface of the narrative, inviting contemplation on the intersection of mortal agency and divine influence.

In conclusion, R. C. Seaton's translation of Apollonius Rhodius' "The Argonautica" is a poetic voyage that resonates with the majesty of ancient Greek epic storytelling. The title encapsulates the essence of this celestial odyssey, promising readers an immersion into the mythical realms that have captivated audiences for centuries. Seaton's lyrical prowess breathes new life into the age-old verses, ensuring that the adventures of the Argonauts continue to inspire awe and wonder in the hearts of contemporary readers.

"The Argonautica" by Apollonius Rhodius is available in Amazon in paperback 12.99$ and hardcover 20.99$ editions.

Number of pages: 219

Language: English

Rating: 9/10                                           

Link of the book!

Review By: King's Cat

[prettyobsessed]

⋆·˚ ༘ *🎀Perfumed Reverie🩰* ༘✧˚⋆·

🌊 / pairings: Rafayel / fem!reader *. ⋆ / genre: Story plot with smut [nsfw 18+, mdni] 𓇼 / tags: nsfw, romantic smut, lyrical writing, slight action smut, smut with plot, mutual attraction, slight jealousy, perfume obsession, kisses, body appreciation, hand job, clit fingering, nipple kink, nipple licking, slight sub/dom play, tying kink, ribbon kink, cock teasing, kissing, clit stimulation, unprotected sex, perfume kink, cum in mouth, savouring cum, mature sexual content, romantic, romantic smut 🐚 / word count: 6.6k

 ₊⊹summary₊˚⊹

In "Perfumed Reverie," the narrator prepares for Rafayel's celebration with meticulous detail, anticipating the evening ahead. Rafayel's thoughtful gift adds to the excitement. At the party, amidst the vibrant atmosphere, the narrator finds herself drawn to Rafayel's magnetic presence. Their connection deepens as Rafayel's curiosity about the narrator’s perfume sparks a moment of intimacy. Amidst the chaos, their bond strengthens, leaving both eager for more.

𓍢ִ໋🐇₊˚*ੈ♡⸝⸝𓆝🧸⋆

The sun cast a warm glow over the bustling city streets as I set out to find the perfect gift for Rafayel, my heart brimming with anticipation. As I navigated the crowded sidewalks, lost in thought, I was interrupted by the unexpected voice of Nero, my teammate from UNICORNS.

"Hey, fancy meeting with you. Mind if I join you for lunch? I've been dying to hear more about that eye you keep mentioning the other day,” Nero said with a grin that seemed a tad too eager. A memory flashed in my mind, the image of what lay behind the mysterious curtain stirring a sense of unease within me. Ignoring the knot of unease tightening in my stomach, I forced a polite smile and replied with a hesitant nod, "Sure, why not. I could use the company... and perhaps your opinion on something."

We settled into a nearby café, the aroma of freshly brewed coffee mingling with the chatter of patrons. Nero leaned in eagerly, his eyes alight with curiosity. “So, tell me more about the eye. Could you describe it in detail? I'm fascinated by it," he urged, his enthusiasm bordering on obsession.

As I recounted the details of the memory, Nero hung on my every word, his fascination evident in the way he leaned closer, his breathless anticipation palpable. "Wow," he murmured, his voice filled with awe. Then, with a slight cough, he added, "Um, do you think you could draw it again for me?" There was a hint of demand in his tone, as if he couldn't bear the thought of waiting any longer to see the image.

Unease prickled at the back of my mind, a sense of distrust creeping in as Nero's fixation on the eye grew more pronounced. “It's just for research purposes," Nero added, his voice taking on a low and dark tone that set off alarm bells in my mind.Reluctantly, I hastily sketched the image for him, feeling a sense of discomfort lingering in the air. Sensing my discomfort, I shifted the conversation, suggesting we divert our attention to finding a gift for my friend, Rafayel. Nero readily agreed, and we set off on a leisurely stroll through the city streets, our laughter blending with the hum of conversation. As we strolled along, an unsettling feeling nagged at the back of my mind, refusing to dissipate. 

Yet, for the moment, I pushed aside my suspicions and focused on the task at hand.

Amidst the charming boutiques and shops, my gaze was drawn to a stunning opal watch, its iridescent hues casting a spellbinding shimmer in the sunlight. Each facet of the opal seemed to dance with a kaleidoscope of colours, evoking an ethereal beauty that captured the essence of elegance and sophistication. The sleek design of the watch, adorned with intricate detailing and polished to perfection, spoke volumes of craftsmanship and quality. As I admired its captivating allure, I couldn't help but be reminded of Rafayel's discerning taste and penchant for the finer things in life.

Nero glanced over my shoulder at the opulent timepiece, his curiosity piqued. "A gift?" he inquired, his brow raised in intrigue. I turned to face him, a smile playing at the corners of my lips. "Yes, what do you think?" I asked, eager for his opinion. "It's nice," Nero replied with a nod, his tone neutral.

Taking Nero's brief assessment into account, I made the decision to purchase the watch for Rafayel. Just as I was admiring the opal watch, the salesperson approached with a warm smile. "Would you like to add a personal message to accompany the gift?" she asked kindly. "Yes, please," I replied, grateful for the opportunity to personalise the present for Rafayel. Quickly, I penned down my heartfelt message: “To Rafayel, Congrats on the collaboration! I’m super proud of you. This gift is a token of my support and belief in your talents. Hope you like it ♡ With love, Y/N x”.

With a sense of satisfaction, I passed the note back to the salesperson, who carefully tucked it into the gift bag alongside the opulent timepiece.

I continued my journey through the lively streets alongside Nero. The vibrant energy of the city enveloped me, infusing every step with a sense of anticipation. Before we could part ways, a familiar voice called out my name—it was Rafayel. My heart skipped a beat as I quickly hid the gift behind my back, feeling a wave of nervousness wash over me. I stole a glance at Nero, wondering how he would react to Rafayel's unexpected appearance. 

As Rafayel approached, a nervous flutter danced in my chest, my anticipation mingling with apprehension. "Well, well, well, look who's out here on a date," Rafayel remarked with a hint of jealousy in his tone, his eyes narrowing slightly as he took in our proximity.

Rafayel's gaze shifted to Nero, his expression clouded with doubt and suspicion. The tension between them was palpable, casting a shadow over the otherwise pleasant encounter. I exchanged a subtle glance with Rafayel, silently urging him to keep calm and not let his insecurities get the best of him. I mouthed the word ‘Stop it’ to Rafayel, hoping to diffuse the tension. “Rafayel, this is Nero,” I introduced, my voice steady despite the underlying tension. “He's my colleague. Nero, meet Rafayel. He's... well, let's just say he's always looking out for me,” I added with a hint of playfulness, attempting to lighten the mood.

“Hey, nice to meet you. Congrats on the collab!” Nero greeted, his voice laced with genuine warmth as he attempted to break the ice and alleviate the awkwardness of the situation. In response, Rafayel’s demeanour remained guarded, his arms crossed defensively as he replied in a monotone voice, “Thanks.”

Sensing the strained atmosphere, Nero decided to make his exit. "Umm, I better get going. See you at work next Monday?" he said, his departure a relief in the tense moment. I nodded in agreement, bidding him farewell silently appreciating his timing. As Nero walked away, Rafayel's eyes narrowed, his distrust evident in the furrow of his brow.

"Why are you being so rude to him?" I questioned, my tone tinged with suspicion, as I searched Rafayel's face for any signs of jealousy or insecurity. Rafayel's response was edged with sarcasm. "Oh yeah, why are you being so nice to him? You like him, that nerd?" His distrust of Nero was palpable.

I mirrored his tone, matching his sarcasm. “So what if I like him?” I retorted, feigning nonchalance. “There's nothing you can do about it.” Rafayel leaned in closer, his voice low and teasing. “Nah, I know you don't like him,” he remarked, his words carrying a hint of certainty. With a mischievous smirk, he added, “Besides, why waste your time thinking about anyone else when you could be thinking about me?” His playful remark caught me off guard, a flush of frustration rising to my cheeks as I struggled to maintain composure.

Reiterating once more that Nero was merely a colleague, I hoped to ease Rafayel's concerns.

“Pfft. Anyways, this is for you. Wear it to the party later?” Rafayel said, his tone softening as he handed me a small, elegantly wrapped package. “Ooh, what is it? Can I open it now?” I asked eagerly, excitement bubbling within me. Rafayel chuckled softly, shaking his head. “Not now. Open it later when you get home,” he replied, a mischievous glint in his eyes.

Since Rafayel had already given me a gift, I pulled out the carefully wrapped present I had purchased for him. “I got you a gift too. Open it later and let me know if you like it. Or not. Whatever,” I said nonchalantly, though inwardly hoping that Rafayel would appreciate the gesture.

⋆⁺₊⋆ ☀︎ ⋆⁺₊⋆

As the clock chimed 6, signalling the beginning of the evening's arrival, I immersed myself in the preparations for Rafayel's celebration. My fingertips danced over the intricate jacquard fabric of my dress that I selected just for the party, marvelling at its luxurious texture and the way it cascaded elegantly around me. The crystal trim adorning the bodice caught the light, casting a mesmerising array of patterns across the room and infusing the ensemble with an irresistible allure. With its back lace-up closure, the dress whispered promises of sophistication and glamour, setting the stage for an unforgettable night. And to complete the look, I selected a white satin ribbon to adorn my hair, adding a touch of understated glamour to the ensemble.

Amidst the whirlwind of anticipation, my gaze fell upon the elegantly wrapped package Rafayel had presented earlier. With a gentle tug, the ribbon unfurled, revealing the treasure concealed within. Nestled within the folds of tissue paper lay a bottle of exquisite high-end perfume, encased in a pearlescent shell that shimmered like moonlight on water. As I lifted the fragrance to my nose, its enchanting blend of plum and freesia enveloped me in a delicate embrace, transporting me to a realm of opulence and elegance. Each inhale awakened my senses, stirring a symphony of emotions within me.

Accompanying the perfume was a handwritten note from Rafayel, his words infused with warmth and affection. "A gift for the beautiful Y/N," it read, his endearing nickname bringing a smile to my lips. "When I stumbled upon this packaging and scent, it instantly reminded me of you. Your vibrant spirit and unwavering kindness deserve only the finest. See you later, my silly goose."

The tender sentiment warmed my heart with a sweetness that only Rafayel could evoke, a testament to his thoughtfulness and consideration. Amidst the heartfelt sentiment, there was a playful touch that spoke of his penchant for light-hearted jests. 

With a smile on my lips, a flutter of excitement coursed through me at the thought of wearing the enchanting scent to the party. With Rafayel's thoughtful gesture nestled close to my heart, I eagerly anticipated the evening party.

⋆⁺₊⋆ ☀︎ ⋆⁺₊⋆

As I made my grand entrance into Rafayel's house party, the room seemed to buzz with anticipation, a kaleidoscope of colours and sounds swirling around me. The air was alive with the tinkling of glasses, the rhythmic beat of music, and the low hum of conversation. Dressed in an ensemble that exuded elegance and sophistication, I felt a surge of confidence as I navigated through the crowd, drawing admiring glances from all who crossed my path.

Amidst the throng of guests, my gaze was irresistibly drawn to Rafayel, who stood amidst a cluster of people, his magnetic presence undeniable. Our eyes locked, and for a moment, it felt as though the rest of the world faded into oblivion, leaving only the two of us in our own private universe. His smile was like a beacon in the dimly lit room, warming my heart and igniting a spark of excitement within me.

Before I could make my way over to him, however, Thomas intercepted Rafayel, guiding him towards a group of potential clients. I watched with a mixture of disappointment and understanding as Rafayel was swept away, his attention momentarily diverted from me.

As I mingled with the guests, my thoughts kept drifting back to Rafayel, unable to resist the magnetic pull of his charismatic charm. Despite the gravity of my duty to protect him, my attention was unwaveringly fixed on him, drawn to his presence like a moth to a flame. Yet, amidst the distractions of the party, I remained vigilant, my focus unwavering as I monitored the surrounding and every movement. Ready to intervene at a moment's notice, I kept a watchful eye on him, ensuring his safety was paramount above all else.

Suddenly, a soft vibration in my pocket broke through my reverie, signalling an incoming message on my phone. With a quick glance, I saw that it was from Rafayel. "You looked stunning tonight. Can you rescue me from this crowd, pretty please?" His words brought a smile to my lips, a warmth spreading through me at the thought of him reaching out to me.

I quickly tapped out a reply, my fingers dancing across the screen. "You're doing great! Just a few more hours to go! Hang in there." As I hit send, I couldn't help but feel a flutter of excitement in my chest, knowing that even amidst the chaos of the party, Rafayel and I shared a special connection that transcended the confines of the room. With renewed determination, I plunged back into the festivities, my heart filled with anticipation for what the night might bring.

Discreetly, I checked the holster of my concealed weapon, its comforting weight serving as a reassuring reminder of my preparedness for any unforeseen threats that might arise during the festivities. As I moved through the throng of guests, my attention was momentarily diverted by a mirror reflecting the scene before me. In its glassy surface, I caught a glimpse of a looming figure, cloaked in darkness and watching me intently. 

A chill swept through me as I turned to confront the mysterious presence, but it vanished into thin air before my eyes. The image lingered in my mind—a spectre of unease that left me unsettled. I could have sworn I saw the glint of a pair of spectacles, reminiscent of Nero's distinctive style. Intrigued and wary, I resolved to investigate further. With each step, my senses sharpened, my hand instinctively gravitating towards the reassuring weight of my concealed weapon. Suddenly, a subtle vibration against my wrist alerted me to an urgent message on my Hunter's Watch—a Wanderer had been detected in close proximity, its threat level ranging from moderate to potentially dangerous.

Utilising my honed training and quick-thinking abilities, I sprang into action with a swift and decisive motion. With a determined focus, I swiftly herded the unsuspecting guests to safety, ensuring their protection before confronting the looming threat of the Wanderer. As the Wanderer crashed through the balcony roof like an uninvited intruder, its menacing tail resembling that of a scorpion's, I surveyed the room with a keen eye, ensuring that no one remained in harm's way. With a steady hand and unwavering resolve, I drew my weapon—a formidable tool enhanced by Protocore Energy—and took aim at the looming menace.

Rafayel stood at my side as the Wanderer's monstrous form bore down on us, his presence a reassuring anchor amidst the chaos. With a nod of silent understanding, we synchronised our movements, our synergy honed through countless battles fought together. Fuelled by deadly intent, the Wanderer lunged forward, its razor-sharp claws slashing through the air. In response, I unleashed a barrage of shots from my enhanced weapon, each blast powered by the pulsating energy of Protocore. 

The projectiles streaked through the air with deadly precision, finding their mark on the creature's armoured hide, but it remained undeterred, its ferocity undiminished. In the midst of the fray, Rafayel stepped forward, his eyes ablaze with determination. 

With a fluid motion, he unleashed his signature move, the Four Scourges—a devastating flurry of strikes that unleashed a torrent of energy upon the Wanderer, shaking its monstrous form to its core.

But the creature was relentless, its primal fury driving it forward with unyielding determination. With a roar that reverberated through the room, it launched itself at us once more, its jaws gaping wide in a feral snarl. Drawing upon our shared bond and unspoken camaraderie, Rafayel and I unleashed our ultimate technique: Abyssal Beacon and Abyssal Shadow—a dazzling display of power and precision that unleashed a torrent of energy, engulfing the Wanderer in a blinding vortex of light and force.As the echoes of our combined assault faded, the room fell silent, save for the gentle crackle of dissipating energy. The Wanderer lay defeated, its once-mighty form reduced to naught but a lifeless husk.

With a shared nod of triumph, Rafayel and I stood victorious, our bond stronger than ever in the face of adversity. 

Approaching the fallen Wanderer, I scanned the room for any lingering threats, my senses heightened by the adrenaline still coursing through my veins. With cautious steps, I retrieved its Protocore, ensuring no remnants of its malevolent energy lingered behind. As I claimed the precious artefact, the body of the Wanderer began to dissipate into sparkling dust, a testament to our hard-won victory.

With the room now safe, I gestured for the guests to return to the ballroom, their applause a symphony of gratitude for our valiant efforts. The sound echoed off the walls, filling the air with a sense of relief and triumph. Thomas stepped forward to address them. "Thank you all for your understanding and cooperation," he announced, his voice carrying across the room with sincerity. "For the safety of everyone present, we must end the event early. Please make your way home safely."

With heartfelt thanks and apologies, Thomas bid the guests farewell, his words imbued with genuine warmth and gratitude. Meanwhile, Rafayel remained by my side, his concern evident in the gentle scrutiny of his gaze. “Ms Bodyguard, are you alright?" he asked, his voice soft with worry as he inspected my injuries.

Turning to Rafayel, I felt a surge of gratitude for his unwavering support. "I'm fine," I assured him, offering a reassuring smile. "Just a few scratches." Rafayel's expression softened, his touch warm and comforting as he gently took my hands in his. "I'm glad you're safe,“ he murmured, his voice filled with genuine relief.

Amidst the few lingering guests in the background, helpers scurried about, diligently tidying the aftermath of the Wanderer's unwelcome intrusion into the party, as glints of glass shards shimmered in the dim light. Rafayel then led me to another room—a sanctuary within his embrace—his bedroom. The windows were open, allowing the gentle sea breeze to sway the curtains in a graceful dance. The scent of the ocean wafted in, mingling with the subtle aroma of Rafayel's presence, creating an atmosphere of serene tranquility. His room exuded a sense of majesty, adorned with elegant furnishings and offering a breathtaking view of the ocean beyond.

The soft glow of moonlight cast ethereal patterns across the room, illuminating the space with a magical aura. The walls exuded elegance, adorned with intricate tapestries and ornate moldings that enhanced the room's sense of refinement and sophistication. Plush carpets adorned the floor, inviting us to sink our feet into their luxurious embrace.

As Rafayel rummaged for the ointment to tend to my injuries, I couldn't help but admire the way the moonlight played upon his features, casting a halo of light around him. His eyes gleamed with a mixture of curiosity and admiration, his movements graceful and deliberate as he searched for the right supplies. It was moments like these that made me acutely aware of the magnetic pull he had on me, drawing me closer with each passing second.

“I almost couldn’t concentrate fighting the Wanderer. What is that scent you’re wearing?” Rafayel's curiosity sparked as he rummaged for ointment to tend to my injuries. "Is that the perfume I gave you?" he inquired, his interest piqued by the lingering fragrance in the air.

I nodded in affirmation, a small smile gracing my lips. I watched as his gaze lingered on me, his curiosity evident as he took in the lingering fragrance of my perfume. The air between us seemed to crackle with anticipation, charged with an unspoken tension that left me breathless with excitement. As he leaned in to take another whiff of the scent, I couldn't help but feel nervously attracted to him.

Rafayel exuded an irresistible allure tonight, his hair tousled in a way that accentuated his rugged charm. There was a disoriented yet undeniably magnetic quality about him, as if my perfume had ensnared his senses and left him spellbound. He moved with a sense of urgency, flitting back and forth between attending to my injuries and searching for the ointment, his actions driven by an unspoken desire to be near me. Clad in a white collared shirt adorned with delicate pearly buttons, Rafayel's attire only added to his allure. The fabric clung to his frame, hinting at the contours of his muscular physique, while his slightly exposed chest sent a flurry of anticipation coursing through me, my heart quickening with every beat.

"Show me the scratches," Rafayel requested, his voice laced with concern. Despite the worry etched on his face, there was an underlying warmth that drew me closer to him. Feeling a surge of confidence enveloping me in his presence, I decided to indulge in a playful moment, relishing the anticipation building between us. With a coy grin, I allowed my fingers to glide along the fabric of my dress, slowly revealing the scratch nestled provocatively above my upper thigh.

"Right here," I said in a low, teasing voice, relishing the subtle flush that crept up his ears and the intensity of his gaze fixed on my exposed skin.

Rafayel's gaze intensified, his eyes locked on the exposed skin, his breath growing heavy. With a sense of urgency, he retrieved the ointment from his drawer, his movements deliberate as he applied it to my skin. His touch lingered, evoking a tingling sensation that stirred a rush of anticipation within me. “And here,” I continued, pointing to the scratch on my chest, just above my décolletage, revelling in the closeness between us. Rafayel stood before me, his proximity closer than ever, his eyes glazed over with delight as he leaned in to inhale the intoxicating scent once more on my chest to my neck. His breath hitched, his fingers trembling slightly as they brushed against my skin, a silent testament to the effect I had on him.

My heart raced with excitement as his touch lingered, each caress invoking a cascade of tingling sensations that danced across my skin like a symphony of desire. The air between us hummed with a potent energy, thick with desire and longing.

“Are you okay?” I asked, a surge of concern washing over me as Rafayel seemed to falter. Supporting him to a bench nestled at the foot of his bed, I sat beside him and searched his eyes for any signs of distress. “I don’t know,” Rafayel confessed, his voice tinged with wonder. “I was fine before the party started. But as soon as you came, I got caught up with your scent. And the more I catch the scent of your perfume, the more it seems to bewitch me. It's like...” He trailed off, struggling to articulate the intensity of his feelings.

Rafayel's confession left me breathless, his words painting a picture of vulnerability and desire. "It's like your scent has woven its way into my very being," he murmured, his voice a mixture of awe and fascination, his breath hitching with each word. The intensity in his gaze held me captive, drawing me closer to him as if we were bound by an invisible thread of longing. As Rafayel admitted his vulnerability, a surge of tenderness washed over me, mingling with the raw passion that surged between us.

He took my hand, bringing it close to his face to revel in the scent, almost as if he were savouring a rare delicacy. His touch was electric, sparking a rush of warmth that enveloped me, each caress leaving me breathless and yearning for more.

It’s like he’s being taken over by my perfume. He’s caressing my hand with his face, indulging in the scent that’s making him high. While he’s being obsessed with my scent, I couldn't help but notice the opal watch adorning his wrist, the one I had gifted him. With a soft smile, I traced the lines of his face with gentle reverence, feeling the weight of his words in the air between us. “You’re watching the watch. It suits you well,” I whispered, my voice barely above a whisper.

Rafayel's response was a whisper of his own, filled with promise and longing. "It's a reminder that I'm bound to you forever." Taking his hand in mine, I brought it close to my face, allowing him to revel in the scent that seemed to draw us closer with each passing moment. His gaze locked with mine, a silent plea lingering in his eyes.

"Kiss me, please?” he breathed, his voice a soft plea that stirred something deep within me.

Lost in the moment, I couldn't resist the allure of his disheveled appearance, his tousled hair adding to his irresistible charm. Without hesitation, I leaned in and kissed him, savouring the taste of his lips against mine. As the kiss deepened, I felt Rafayel's hands pull me closer, his touch sparked a symphony of sensations, each note playing a melody of longing that reverberated through every fiber of my being.

Rafayel's grip tightened around my waist, drawing me impossibly closer as our ardor surged to intoxicating heights. Feeling emboldened by his touch, I reciprocated his desire, my hands trailing down his neck to the exposed skin of his chest, then further down to the defined contours of his abs. With each touch, he reacted, his body jolting responding to my caress with a mix of pleasure and anticipation.

Still nestled in his embrace, I rested my left arm against his back, feeling the reassuring warmth of his skin beneath my touch. With my right fingers, I traced delicate patterns along his abdomen, following the enticing path of his happy trail as it disappeared below his belly button. Each stroke elicited a shiver of pleasure from Rafayel, his body responding to my touch with a mix of anticipation and desire.

With a daring glint in his eye, Rafayel teased, "Don't take your hands off me. Go further down, I dare you." His voice carried a seductive challenge, a playful invitation to delve deeper into the depths of our shared desire without inhibition.

His words hung in the air like a potent aphrodisiac, sending a rush of anticipation coursing through me, urging me to delve deeper into the realms of carnal delight. With a mischievous grin, I accepted his challenge, allowing my fingertips to continue their descent, tracing a tantalising path along the contours of his body. My fingers trailed from his abs to his pants, tiptoeing and caressing his growing erection with just my finger. Rafayel's hand reached out, a silent plea for restraint, yet his eyes betrayed the true depth of his desire. 

“If you don’t stop, I won’t be able to leave,” Rafayel murmured, his gaze locked with mine—a silent invitation to indulge in the passion that simmered between us. The essence of Rafayel's words permeated the air, lingering like an intoxicating fragrance that enveloped us both. His gaze, locked with mine, spoke volumes, silently beckoning me to embrace the intoxicating passion that simmered between us.

"Good," I purred, my voice laced with a hint of mischief. "Because I don't plan on stopping." Rafayel's reaction was immediate, a low, guttural moan escaping his lips at my words. With a boldness that matched his own, I brushed his hand aside, allowing my fingers to continue their languid exploration of his hardened length. Each stroke elicited a soft gasp from him, his body responding eagerly to my touch.

His breath hitched in his throat, a symphony of desire escaping his lips in soft moans that filled the air. 

My fingers traced patterns of arousal along his length, teasing and tempting him with every caress. Leaning in closer, I whispered words of longing against his skin, my breath hot against his ear. With each passing moment, the anticipation grew thicker, the hunger in his eyes mirroring my own. I revelled in the delicious torture of the moment, savouring the intoxicating dance of desire that enveloped us both.

With a daring glint in my eye, I continued to tease him, drawing circles on his throbbing arousal, each touch sending a surge of pleasure coursing through him. My fingers lingered on his clothed erection before deftly unbuttoning his pants, granting me access to his hard erection. With each button undone, my anticipation swelled, eager to explore the depths of his desire and fulfil our mutual craving for ecstasy.

Once I unbuttoned Rafayel’s pants, I liberated his shaft from its fabric confines. Unveiling his arousal, I found myself entranced by the mesmerising sight. Long, girthy and slightly curved. I couldn’t imagine the sensations it would evoke and how it would feel like being filled by him. I leaned in closer, my breath hot against his skin as I whispered words of longing. 

His hardened length stood tall and commanding, pulsating with an undeniable vigor that spoke volumes. Without hesitation, I leaned in, my lips parting as I released a small stream of saliva onto his throbbing member. The slickness of my saliva enhanced the sensation as I slowly wrapped my hand around his hardness, feeling the heat and hardness beneath my touch. Our eyes locked in a heated exchange, a silent understanding passing between us as I continued to stroke him with deliberate slowness.

The anticipation hung heavy in the air as Rafayel, emboldened by desire, reached for the top of my dress, pulling it down to reveal my pert nipple. His touch was gentle yet firm as he traced the contours of my breast, his warm breath igniting a tempest of sensations within me. I gasped as his lips closed around my nipple, his tongue dancing and swirling, setting my nerve endings ablaze with ecstasy. The intensity of his ministrations sent bolts of raw pleasure shooting through my body, kindling an insatiable desire that surged from the depths of my being.

"It's hard not to bite what's already near my mouth," Rafayel chuckled softly, his voice a velvety whisper tinged with desire. The playful edge in his tone heightened the already intoxicating arousal that surrounded us like a tangible heat. With each stroke of my hand and flick of his tongue, he seemed to embrace his primal instincts and his movements growing increasingly feral.

Sensing my eagerness, Rafayel lifted me effortlessly, guiding me to straddle him as we made our way to his satin bed awaiting us. His touch was electrifying, his hands roaming over my body with a possessive urgency that set my skin ablaze with desire. "May I?" Rafayel's voice was a husky whisper, his eyes dark with longing as he gestured towards the dress that adorned my form.

"Yes," I breathed, my voice barely above a whisper as I surrendered to the intoxicating pull of desire.

With practiced ease, Rafayel deftly stripped me of my dress, leaving me clad only in delicate lace and the weapon concealed within. As the dress pooled at my feet, I discreetly removed the gun, tucking it away in a safe place, ensuring our passion remained undisturbed by external threats. In turn, Rafayel shed his top, revealing the chiseled contours of his chest, each muscle defined and sculpted beneath the surface. Despite undressing, he kept the watch on. As he tenderly guided me onto the plush satin sheets, his gaze locked with mine, his lips leaving a trail of delicate kisses along my skin, each touch igniting a wildfire of sensation. With each caress, he worshipped every inch of my being, his hands tracing the contours of my body with reverence, as if I were a precious work of art to be cherished.

Descending with purpose, his lips trailed a path of anticipation down to my stomach, then further still, until he reached the apex of my desire. With skilful hands, he parted my folds, eagerly savouring my taste as his tongue explored every inch of my quivering flesh. Lost in the throes of passion, he ravished me with fervent kisses and expert strokes, driving me to the brink of ecstasy.

With a gentle gesture, he offered his fingers to my eager mouth, coaxing me to coat them with my saliva. Without hesitation, I complied, relishing the taste of our shared desire. As he slowly inserted his finger into my dripping core, a wave of pleasure surged through me, intensifying with each rhythmic circle he traced.

The sensation was overwhelming, my body trembling with need as he skilfully brought me to the brink of release. And in a moment of pure ecstasy, I surrendered to the pleasure, succumbing to the powerful climax he had orchestrated with his masterful touch.

As waves of pleasure continued to ripple through my body, I basked in the afterglow of my climax, feeling every nerve ending alight with bliss. I luxuriated in the lingering sensation, relishing the intoxicating rush that coursed through me.

But even amidst the haze of ecstasy, my desire for Rafayel burned brighter than ever, urging me to reciprocate the pleasure he had so generously bestowed upon me. With a languid grace, I shifted my focus, my gaze locking with his as I conveyed my silent gratitude.

“I wanna try something,” I murmured, a mischievous glint in my eye as I reached for the white ribbon that adorned my hair. Removing it with a practiced twist, I used the ribbon to bind Rafayel's hands, securing them above his head as I took my rightful place atop him. With a playful smirk, I teased his senses, trailing kisses and caresses along his body.

The satin ribbon felt smooth against my fingertips as I expertly tied his wrists, the fabric contrasting with the heat radiating from his skin. With each knot, I could sense his anticipation building, his breath quickening in anticipation of what was to come. “Is this like… a new kink of yours?” Rafayel teased, a playful grin dancing on his lips as he observed me with curious amusement. His eyes sparkled with intrigue, betraying the hint of excitement stirring within him. 

I responded with a coy grin, my lips curling into a mischievous smile as I nodded in affirmation.

As I leaned down to place a soft kiss on his lips, I could feel the tension in his muscles, his body straining against the restraints in a delicious mix of desire and surrender.

With his hands bound above his head, Rafayel lay helpless beneath me, his eyes dark with desire as I explored every inch of his body with kisses and feather-light touches. The air was thick with anticipation as I trailed my lips along his jawline, down his neck, and across his chest. With each caress, I could feel the intensity of his arousal building, his skin flushing with heat as he surrendered to the pleasure of my touch.

Rafayel's breath hitched in his throat as I continued my sensual assault, his moans filling the room with a symphony of pleasure. The faint scent of arousal hung in the air, mingling with the heady aroma of our desire as I teased him relentlessly. “Fuck…Y/N, stop teasing me,” His voice was a husky whisper, each word laced with desperation and longing. His hands strained against the ribbon, a silent plea for more, as I revelled in the power I held over him.

I leaned in closer, my lips hovering just out of reach as I whispered, "You know you love it when I tease you." The heat of his skin beneath my fingertips was intoxicating, driving me to push him further, to see how far I could take him before he begged for release.

With a wicked grin, I allowed him to untie himself, his hands immediately finding their way to my body, pulling me closer in a desperate embrace. His hands roam freely as he pulled me closer, our bodies intertwining in a passionate embrace. Guiding his throbbing member to my dripping core, I lowered myself onto him, savouring the exquisite feeling of fullness as he filled me completely.

I stroke Rafayel's cock with my clit, relishing the sensation of his hardness against my sensitive flesh. Releasing his cock from my core momentarily, I coat his pulsating member with my saliva, reveling in the intimacy of the act. The look of desire in his eyes fuels my own arousal, and I love every moment of tempting and teasing him.

Inching deeper, I circle my hips slowly, ensuring every movement brings him exquisite pleasure. His moans of ecstasy spur me on, driving me to explore every inch of his length with my tight, wet pussy. With each deliberate motion, I feel him responding to my touch, his cock throbbing with need beneath me.

"So fucking pretty, my princess," Rafayel moans, his words stirring a carnal hunger deep within me, every syllable like a siren's call, beckoning me further into the abyss of ecstasy. The endearing nickname he gives me only heightens my arousal, causing my pussy to tighten around him involuntarily. His eyes widen in surprise and delight, realising the effect his words have on me. With each fervent thrust, I surrender to the pleasure, riding him with an insatiable hunger that knows no bounds.

"I'm gonna—,” Rafayel groaned, his voice strained with desire as he neared the brink of release. 

With a wicked grin, I withdrew from his pulsating member, the taste of his arousal lingering on my tongue. "Cum in here," I purred, my lips parting in invitation as I offered myself to him once more. Rafayel's eyes widened in anticipation, his hands gripping the sheets tightly as he surrendered to the pleasure coursing through him.

In a moment of pure ecstasy, Rafayel released his cum into my waiting mouth, his essence a delicious elixir that I eagerly savoured. Being the insatiable vixen that I am, I devoured his cock for the last time, each movement of my tongue prolonging his orgasm and intensifying his pleasure. His moans grew deeper, more desperate, as he held onto me tightly, not wanting to let go. With a teasing swivel of my tongue on the tip of his cock, his whole body jerked in response, his desire reaching new heights.

As he throbbed with the aftershocks of pleasure, I met his gaze with a sultry smile, his heartfelt admission of love resounding in the air like a whispered promise. "I adore you, every inch of you," he confessed—his voice a seductive melody that danced on the edge of desire.

"Please… never leave me again," he murmured, his hands cradling my face with a tenderness that spoke volumes of his longing. The sincerity in his gaze, the yearning in his touch, echoed the depths of his desire to hold onto our love, to never let it slip away again.

Savouring the moment, I met his gaze with a sultry smile, my own confession of love hanging between us like a delicate promise waiting to be fulfilled. “I promise. Among all the fishies in the sea, you're the one who caught my eye. Unless you’re begging to be released again,” I teased, my voice tinged with affection as I gazed into Rafayel's mesmerising eyes, feeling the weight of my love for him in every word.

Rafayel and I found ourselves entangled in a playful banter afterwards.

“Says the one who doesn't know how to row the boat!” Rafayel teased, casting a knowing glance at me. The memory of our ill-fated boating excursion flashed through my mind, a moment of levity amidst the tension. "Says the one who ended up tossing his lunch overboard.... and well, couldn't resist taking the bait,” I playfully retorted, a mischievous glint in my eyes as I teased Rafayel. He mockingly gasped, placing a hand over his heart. "Oh, the audacity! Here I am, pouring my heart out, and you're just here for the catch and release." I leaned in closer, my lips curling into a smirk. "Well, you must admit, Rafayel, I do have quite the knack for reeling you in."

He chuckled, his laughter filling the air as he leaned back, a playful glint in his eyes. "Touché, my dear. Touché indeed." Just then, Rafayel leaned in, his lips brushing against my neck as he inhaled the lingering scent of plum and freesia. "I need you to spray more perfume on here, Ms. Bodyguard," he murmured with a playful tone, his breath warm against my skin. I playfully swatted his arm, laughing at the ticklish sensation. His playful request to apply the perfume only added to the intimacy between us, as I surrendered to the warmth of his embrace. Allowing myself to bask in the warmth of Rafayel's presence, I closed my eyes. In his arms, I found solace, a sanctuary where love and laughter intertwined to form an unbreakable bond.

—by prettyobsessed🎀⋆⁺₊⋆ ૮꒰ ˶• ༝ •˶꒱ა ♡

Editor’s note: this is for the Rafayel girlies out there! i intended to write something sweeter for Rafayel's smut, but the direction changed. hmm, we'll see. i might tweak around a bit more. also, doesn't Nero seem a little suspicious? i recently replayed the chapters again and started noticing his peculiar behaviour. but either way, hope you enjoyed this one! ᵔᴗᵔ

[chaifootsteps]

Not cartoon based describing Hazbin Hotel not being nominated as a “snub” 🙄 Especially since the two categories it would have been eligible would have been:

Best Compilation Soundtrack for Visual Media + Best Song for Visual Media for the song ‘Poison’

Because the song Sam Haft wrote for Viv and Raph’s rape fetish music video is definitely on the same level of craftsmanship and musical talent as *looks at past winners* Billie Eilish’s “What Was I Made For”, Randy Newman’s “When She Loved Me”, and “Somewhere Out There” from An American Tail.

I just can’t believe the Grammys don’t want to honor the amazing song writer who came up with such masterful lyrics like “he blew his shot like the cocks in his mouth”. Like. What were they thinking??? /sarcastic

(In all seriousness. No amount of raw musical talent can make a poorly written song good. Just like no amount of beautiful flashy and smooth visuals can make a story’s writing better. Sorry ¯\_(ツ)_/¯ )

"Hazbin Hotel has been snubbed for the Nobel Prizes in peace, science, and chemistry." ~Cartoon Base before all's said and done, probably.

Also, that fourth paragraph made me laugh so abruptly it scared my dog.

[multifandomfix]

Being A Seamstress Who Falls For Jaskier Would Include

You meet Jaskier when he stumbles into your shop, needing his vest repaired after one of his misadventures with some girl’s jealous ex. His charm captivates you from the start, but you’re hesitant, and initially think he’s just another overly flirtatious bard.

After visiting your shop a few times, Jaskier notices your skill and begins weaving metaphors about your craftsmanship into his songs. You catch him humming one such tune, and it makes your heart flutter.

As Jaskier becomes a regular customer, he starts requesting custom outfits for performances, bringing out your creativity. He trusts your vision, praising how your designs help him command attention on stage.

You notice Jaskier finding more reasons to linger in your shop, even when he doesn’t need anything repaired or made. He playfully teases you, but there’s always a softness in his eyes when he does.

One evening, after a particularly rough day, Jaskier seeks refuge in your shop. He drops his usual bravado, revealing a more vulnerable side. You comfort him, and the bond between you grows deeper.

Jaskier starts bringing you rare and beautiful fabrics from his travels as gifts. He insists they’re for your work, but you suspect they’re really a way for him to show his affection.

You admire Jaskier’s boldness and the way he expresses himself through music, while he’s in awe of how your delicate stitches create masterpieces. Both of you recognize and appreciate each other’s art forms.

Eventually, Jaskier invites you to accompany him on the road, promising to serenade you during long travels. You find yourself stitching his torn outfits while sitting by a campfire, with Jaskier always nearby with a song to accompany your work.

The two of you often exchange witty banter, with Jaskier teasing you about your more “serious” nature while you roll your eyes at his flirtatious quips. But beneath the teasing, there’s undeniable chemistry.

One day, during a crowded tavern performance, Jaskier surprises you with a song dedicated to “the finest seamstress in all the continent,” full of heartfelt lyrics that make you blush. That’s when you realize just how much he truly cares for you.

Forever Tag: @baubeautyandthegeek, @ghostsunderstoodmysoul, @immyowndefender, @valencethefriendlychangeling, @crimsonwidow666, @rebelbossheart, @thedailyspiritualist, @orangeisnttheonlyfruit, @woman-simp, @aperol-with-izzy, @leonoralessoem, @ellepossum69, @lakita-fisher, @trexsuit, @analuw, @luvlesavyy, @malfoyfeed, @aliciabrower, @sparrowspixie, @imaginationismyworldlypleasure, @og-kxsh-420

Jaskier: @retvenkos, @dancingwith-sunflowers, @randomfandomimagine, @shitheadsthings, @rubyqueen819, @roxi-reid, @hc-geralt-23, @floresferae, @pink-sunrise-56, @anarrowtotheknee, @tissaiasdarkone, @thekirbishow

[grapejuicestyless]

hey, i eat up everything you write!!! i would love to request maybe a sunshine y/n vs grumpy Conrad (or harry .. I think it will work for either) set in college ! maybe it’s because i’m in uni right now but i am a true sucker for uni based stories 🥲😭 maybe she could be an art major or literature? … eee just an idea !!! thank you 🌟🫶🏻🧚🏻

Mona Lisa

Harry Styles x fem!reader

Summery: You always kept your head up. Each inconvenience was simply a coincidence. But even the biggest balls of sunshine need a break sometimes.

Her chest expanded out, cheeks puffed up, lips pursed in a tight line. Her hands shook under the weight of her textbooks. Her tote bag was slung over her shoulder, but the cautious girl feared that even with the extra wiggle room between the canvas bag, all her things would break it and leave her with nothing at all to aid her.

Her late start had taken the energy out of her, the stairs had taken away her willpower, and the red marks littering her latest exam papers had taken away her spirit. Paint cracked over her knuckles and glasses pulling her hair back, she heard her mothers voice in her head.

“Don’t do that, you’ll stretch them out and they won’t fit properly.” Though, they still seemed to fit fine, the slight sliding down the bridge of her nose every so often proved her mother right.

She had picked art as her major. She had ambitions, goals and aspirations. Her past teachers had complemented her craftsmanship. Her skill behind an easel. Picking up her paper as an example, using her to demonstrate how to execute certain techniques. It didn’t excuse her from her other classes, however. That was her own decision to make. The idea of having no other classes but ones revolving around the arts would drive her academic side crazy. So each new semester, she enrolled herself into a few classes she didn’t really need to take, but would enjoy. Or so she thought.

It wasn’t like she was stupid, she thrived in the past. In many ways, she was a poet. She had a mind like no other, the words would simply come to head as soon as the pen hit the paper. But math taken away her vanity, and history was a drag more so than not. God, she couldn’t bear to sit through another lecture about some old white guy who would otherwise mean nothing to anyone if it weren’t for the many who refused to let them and their scandalous actions go.

Y/n knew better than to complain. She knew how privileged she was to even be able to attend a school as such. She didn’t have the wealth, but she had the motivations in her past that had driven her to a certain level of success. Something good enough to land her scholarships. She was good at keeping her head up, more so than not. Each struggle would only create another work for her to make.

It was normal to feel down, even knowing this. She was simply glad to be able to step over the threshold to her apartment. The key couldn’t turn fast enough in her eyes. All she longed for was a little warmth and maybe a cup of coffee to keep her going for the rest of the day. More than that, she longed for him. The man who so graciously wrapped his arms around her shoulder every night and whispered sweet nothings to her. Singing messy melodies and dedicating the lyrics to her while she sleeps.

Her shoulders sagged, only to stiffen when she saw how the December nip had come through her roommates open window.

But she didn’t grumble something mean under her breath. She had known she must’ve done it once or twice before too. Her roommate who she loved very much surely hadn’t meant any harm.

Her slippers were inviting, and his sweatshirt hanging by her door was the final piece she was missing. His smell, welcoming and warm. He smelled of toasted vanilla and pine. There were hints of hair gel in the sleeves, from how often he ran his hands through his hair. She didn’t mind the fray in the hem or how the strings were missing from the hood. It was Harry in every sense. And it was enough for her.

She thought that was the end of it, truly. She figured she could take a deep breather and let the stress of the day ease out of her veins. That now, with the university behind her and her classes over for the day, she could settle into her work and let the soft melodies of her playlist distract her.

Sitting on the floor, her legs folded neatly in front of her, she picked up her brush delicately between her fingers and her thumb, twiddling it around and biting her lips. When she went to reach for the paint the cap seemed looser than usual. When she picked it up, the top fell to the floor, spinning out to a stop a few feet away. Her acrylic dried out presumably from sitting open for days while she worked on her studies and pushed away her art classes.

Portfolios were bare, sketchbooks a mess and worse, she was falling so far behind she was grinding out projects at an inhuman pace. All to simply be rejected or judged poorly. Nothing was ever enough and soon she would become just another burn out if she couldn’t pull it together.

Picking up the bottle, she searched for any signs of wet paint still surviving. She squeezed and turned it hoping to find a glimmer of anything. When she let go, in defeat, remaining acrylic splattered across her cheeks and into her hair. Sticky and half dried.

Setting the bottles down, she reminded herself to breathe. To remember how she’d even got here. She was lucky, she had already made it farther than most of her old peers.

“It couldn’t possibly get any worse.” She thought out loud, keeping up her fading smile to try and keep her eye from twitching. Ever the optimist, she decided to simply move on, enjoy a nice brewed cup of coffee before settling down to watch one of the shows she had thrown herself into to distract her from the harsh realities of the stressful life she was living currently.

Trudging a few feet from her room to the kitchen, she saw the counter sprinkled with brown and white sugars and flour. It was a mess, one her lovely roommate had left, but one she could deal with later. She didn’t mind the chaos so much.

What she did mind was the sticky note attached to the coffee pot, stained brown on the bottom, grounds stuck underneath it on the stove. It was pink with curly lettering and a half hearted frowning face. ‘Out of coffee. Running to the store tonight after class.’ It read.

It shouldn’t have pissed her off, but her blood was heating up and her brain pounded in her skull. She couldn’t cozy up, it was far too cold. Fine. Her paint was dried. She was tired a few night ago, honest mistake. She could go buy more soon. Her coffee was gone. She found it in herself to brush it off, smiling to herself at the sight of a fresh pot of coffee for the morning. The longer the wait, the more worth it, it would surely be. She could be patient. She was patient.

She would focus her anger into something productive. She could wash the dishes, she guessed. Clean out the sink that was littered in stained plates and empty mugs. She would scrub until her fingers resembled those of her grandmas. Finger tips littered with wrinkles from decades of love, only hers would be shriveled from the constant presence of water bathing them.

And she forgot about her worries for a minute. Hot water running over her skin, mug slowly filling under the stream of water as her eyes drifted off. She saw herself sock clad feet, dancing along the tiled floors to a soft melody that resembled a love song. And beside her was a larger pair of feet, swaying along to the beat and laughing along about how neither of them knew how to dance. But they would learn.

They had the whole world at their feet and their youth still surrounding them. These were the good years, and it could only get better.

The door opened with such veracity, she was so sure it would come off the hinges. Startled, her head whipped to the door, already on edge, already struggling to calm herself down.

“Y/n/n?” His accent was thick and low. She had never felt more relieved to see someone so much.

His eyes were the purest shade of green she had ever seen. They put her art to shame. It’s why she never painted him. There was no mixture of colors that could capture the way they twinkled. Even when they were dim with anger or despair, they held so much depth it felt so impossible to paint. No talent could make her lose herself in the greens like his eyes could.

“Harry.” She breathed his name out like it was the best thing she could ever have. He could see the way her eyes gleamed and glistened at him, lips pulled into a genuine smile, softer than usual, but he blamed it on her eight a.m class.

She smelled like espresso, the coffee pot filling with murky water in the sink. Coffee and paint. She didn’t set the mug running under the water down, but the overflow splashing onto her knuckles reminded her to put it on the drying rack.

When she turned, he was there, a hand guiding her closer to him on her back, and lowered eyes looking into hers.

His lips felt like heaven on hers, and she wished he would have kept them there forever, but much to her dismay, he pulled away just as quickly as he came. Already dropping his bags down and grumbling about something that had happened in his organic chemistry class. Something about his professor, or whatever. She stopped listening to lean on the counter, she reminded herself to try and breathe.

“God, he’s such a moron.” He moaned, rubbing his temples. She did the same with her back turned. When she faced him, she plastered on a false smile.

“It can’t be that bad.” She tried to reason. He rolled his eyes, grumbling about how she was far too kind, too patient. So she turned her back to him again, fighting away the urge to grumble something back to him. Kindness was not the same as optimism, something that was wearing very thin in the usually very bubbly girl. It was that trait she carried so much that it balanced out the bad that Harry could bring. His glass-half-empty point of view and his constant sharp tongue about anyone who wasn’t her.

He continued complaining about his day, unaware of how his love was just a few feet away, struggling from her own stress, gripping the counter so harshly her knuckles turned white.

“Sometimes I wish I was an art major like you. God, it seems so much easier.” He didn’t mean it like that, she knew he didn’t mean it like that. She agreed, even. After all, she wasn’t taking organic chemistry or studying the human body in such depth as he did. She studied Van Gogh and Picasso. The crazy man who really wasn’t all that crazy who cut off his own ear. She reminded herself to breathe, just breathe. But when she took that deep breath in, it got stuck.

Why couldn’t she breathe? Why was it stuck in her throat, refusing to escape? She grew frustrated, not with him, but with herself. Tears brimmed her eyes so much, even the plates right beside her blurred into a haze of nothing. There was nothing left to distract her, to keep her up. The sink was empty, she was just running the water by now. And the sound of it should have calmed her but instead she felt very similarly to some of the greats. She could cover her ears and scream all she wanted. But would it ever be heard?

The soft shaking of her shoulders alerted him first. How pitiful she sounded, silently crying and huffing up small gasps to keep her sorrow at bay. But he was so smart, in her eyes, even though he thought the exact opposite, even smarter than herself. He knew before she could even try to pull herself together.

“Love, hey.” His voice was soft, like he was unsure of what to do. And when he turned, he couldn’t help but feel ashamed. There she was, his love crying and falling apart so openly and all he could do was stand there like a big idiot.

Luckily for him, she’d made the first move, wrapping her arms up around him so tightly, all he had to do was pull her closer.

“Y/n/n, whats wrong?” He rubbed her hair, pulling the ends gently between his fingers.

“I’m a failure!” It was rare that Y/n broke down like this. It seemed impossible on some days. How upbeat and unfazed she carried herself. Always walking around with a warm smile plastered on her face. But she was only human. It had to happen sometimes. It was only natural.

Pulling her away, he held onto her to keep her steady. His thumbs rubbed at her tears gently. Her gorgeous eyes, once sparkling were now clouded by her own sadness. A wave of emotion he somehow hadn’t read from her moments ago.

“I mean, look at me, Harry! I’m barely scraping by in my math class, I’ve been surviving off of the same three paintings all semester and I smell like wet dirt! And don’t you dare say I don’t because I can smell it and I can see the grounds on my skin! Right next to the dry paint that I can’t even use!” Harry couldn’t help the way he laughed. Not at her, but for her. To her, the smell of coffee and paint was something so sickening. He would think the same if he were her. Inhaling the fumes every second of his life for years. But to him, she was a breath of fresh air. The chaos in her life something so extraordinary compared to his LED white lab lifestyle he had submitted himself to.

His hand wrapped around hers, which was now poking into his chest pathetically, her lips quivering like it physically pained her to be so upset.

“What?” She sniffled, almost embarrassed by the intensity of his gaze. Normally so stone cold, but one she had learned to read over time. The very small changes in the way he crinkled his nose or moved his brows. She couldn’t read it now, though. Not with the blinding tears falling down her cheeks.

There was no amount of times Harry could swipe his thumbs over her cheek, more and more would stain them it seemed like. And he didn’t quite get it. How could he? While she was breaking down about her failures all he could see was a woman who had already given so much and held no bitterness to those who caused her the pain. She could only reflect it back onto herself.

And while she talked down on herself, crying about her stress and how run down she must have looked to him, all Harry could think was how she could be Mona Lisa if Mona Lisa had a prettier face.

“Nothing.” He whispered, voice sticky and wet from not talking for so long. Her tears rolled down slower until nothing was left, eyes stuck forever searching his for any sign of disgust, but it never came.

“I just love you, is all.” Y/n could’ve laughed at how sappy her otherwise grumpy boyfriend was being. His dopey smile and kind eyes looking at her in a way she hadn’t seen all day. She almost forgot completely why she was upset, if it weren’t for the empty hole in her heart still eating away at her.

“I love you too.” She laughed, more so at herself than him at how quickly her frown had turned into a smile.

“Good.” He took her hand, slotting her arm around the small of his back so that his could rest over her shoulders. He could rest his head over hers and whisper all the sweet nothings that always seemed to charm her into a lavender haze.

And the laughter she emitted only reminded the both of them of how peaceful even the heaviest of rains could be.

To Harry, in many ways Y/n was the sun. Sometimes the clouds like to cover it, but they always pass by, and the sun comes out again.

[ghoulishlygrey]

Hammer Meets Steel Chapter One

Find chapter two here <3

─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: .☽ . :☆ﾟ. ───

Dammon x fem!reader

18+ MDNI

Tags: Oral sex, horns for handles, creampie

Read it on Ao3

─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: .☽ . :☆ﾟ. ───

You and your loyal companions had successfully defeated and cast out the remaining goblins. The grove, ever so thankful, offered to host a party in your honor, and to that you said, “how can I refuse?”

Dammon stood on the outskirts of the party, back leaned against a lone tree as he sipped from the bottle grasped between his fingers. He looked down, blue eyes peering down its neck to find it basically empty, “damn,” he muttered, pushing off the tree to find more wine. Instead, the sight he was met with made him stop in his tracks, the sight of the hero of the grove; the sight of you. You were standing by the fire, drink in hand and a lovely smile on your face, a smile that made Dammon stand still. 

It took him back to that first day, the first moment he laid his eyes on you. You had just defeated the goblin ambush outside, your plate armor was smeared with blood, your hair wild, untamed even. You had brushed right past Arron’s wares, and beelined straight to his shoddy forge.

 “I need some real steel,” you had said with a mischievous twinkle in your eye as you peered over at Dammon, “and I think you can help me with that.”

In that moment, as Dammon stared, star-struck at your grimey, cut-up face, he could’ve sworn he was in love with you. Which was ridiculous really, for Hell's sake he hadn’t even said a word to you yet. He cleared his throat, “Well, I do what I can.” He gave you an easy smile and shrugged his shoulder towards his wares, “You’re welcome to take a look, though it’s not much.” 

And now here he was, standing in your camp, with an empty bottle. Right, he needs a new bottle, that was a good plan. But just as he was going to reach into the wine crate, his eyes flickered up and caught with yours. And, Gods, that *smile*. If a smile could kill, Dammon would’ve been one of your many, many slain souls. And for what’s more, you were walking straight towards him.

“Hey,” you greeted, bending down to retrieve your own bottle, Dammon tried not to realize he could peer down your shirt if his eyes flickered down. Instead he just cleared his throat and averted his gaze.

“Quite the party.” He said, uncorking his new bottle. 

“I know right? It’s so good to see everyone happy after all that’s happened.” You replied, giving him a warm smile.

“I think everyone deserves a good break after everything.” He says, taking a sip from his wine.

“I couldn’t agree more,” you said, your smile turning wry before continuing, “it’s nice to see you away from the forge.” 

He chuckles, “And I’m surprised you’re alone, usually you have at least three of your friends with you.” 

“I finally shook them off,” you tease, looking over your shoulder to find said companions before turning back. “Plus I wanted to get you alone.” 

“Oh?” He could feel his heart skip a beat, then immediately drum up in pace.

“Mhmm. I wanted to thank you for my new sword, the craftsmanship is lovely. I’d never commissioned a sword before but I’m glad I did with you.” 

Oh. You wanted to talk about the sword. 

“Forged from the heart.” The corners of his mouth tease a smile as he makes you laugh, your hand coming to rest on his crossed arm. A slight pink dusts his cheeks and nose at the contact. He clears his throat, Gods, why was he so nervous!?

“I can definitely tell, it feels perfect in my hands. Almost like it was made for me or something.” You tease, giving his arm a squeeze before letting go and returning to your bottle. Dammon could almost cry at the loss of contact, the way your soft hand laid over his sleeve so delicately, he missed it immediately. 

“Hey, do you want to go someplace more… quiet?” You asked, your gaze flicking over to Alfira who was leading everyone in song, loudly chanting the lyrics for the crowd. Dammon’s eyes look between the two, heart pounding against his chest as he nods with an easy smile. 

“Yes, please. I can barely hear you over Alfira, talented as she is.” He replies, sweeping out an arm for you, “lead the way.” 

The two would make their way past the river and into the surrounding forest. “There should be a clearing around here somewhere…” you say, taking his hand in yours as you weave them between the trees. Dammon tries not to focus on the fact it feels like his hands were on fire with you holding him like this. Eventually, to Dammon’s dismay, you let go of him, motioning forward with your hand as he steps in front of you and into the clearing. It was beautiful. Tall, dark trees lined the circle clearing like a formidable wall, keeping everyone who wasn’t them at bay, giving them the privacy Dammon so craved. Somewhere in the distance he could hear a bubbling creek, faintly tickling his ears with its gentle trickling. In front of him, the clearing was lit by the beams of the moon, so clearly that he could step confidently without a torch leading the way. Fireflies beckoned them closer as they made their way through the tall grass to their perfect spot, which you unclasped your cloak and threw it down as a blanket for the two of you to sit on. 

“Beautiful,” Dammon admitted, looking directly at you, hoping his admission would be confused for the scenery rather than at his true target: you. 

“I agree.” You replied, smile shining brightly through the darkness as you looked around, coming to a seat over your laid out cloak. 

You looked so beautiful tonight. You had recently bathed, that much was apparent from the lack of goblin blood on you, and you had let your hair loose from its usual spot atop your head. You were dressed in a simple tunic and leather pants tucked into high boots. Dammon noticed how the tunic color matched your eyes, making them pop even in the surrounding darkness. You shifted your legs, now pressing your thigh against his, a comfortable silence washed over you both as you took in your surroundings, and he took in the sight of you.

“Can I kiss you?” He asks, voice barely above a whisper. You turned to him, eyes wide in surprise as you took in his question. For a second you don’t answer and that second is just enough for Dammon to lose all his nerve, his confidence shriveling up like a fire doused with water.  

“Neverm-“

“Yes.”

“What?” 

“Yes, you can kiss me.” 

But when he hesitates for another moment, it’s you kissing him. The kiss starts off slow at first, lips slotting over each other carefully. You feel Dammon sigh into the kiss, his hands coming up to wrap around your middle carefully, as if he was afraid he might break you. Your arms automatically wrap around his shoulders, hands linking behind his neck as you pull him closer. 

The two of you stay like that for a while, just breathing each other in. Dammon couldn’t hear much outside the pounding of his own heart as you slid your tongue against his bottom lip, asking for access. You let out a little moan when your tongue meets one of his sharp canines, causing him to pull away.

“Did I hurt you?”

The question catches you off guard, you pant slightly from the loss of contact before replying, “No, of course not.”

Dammon’s heart swells at the sight of your kiss-swollen lips as they curve into a cheeky smile. “What?” You say, looking away shyly.Dammon takes your chin between his fingers and brings for face to look at him again, “You’re just so beautiful.”

Those words were all you needed to hear before pulling Dammon back into the kiss, tongue sliding expertly past his lips to meet and swirl around his own. He pulls you into his lap, situating your legs on either side of him so you’re straddling him. You can feel him straining against his pants as you grind down into him, neither of you quite believing that this is actually happening. His hands skate up your thighs, nails leaving little crescent indents as he squeezes the soft flesh. You moan into the kiss as he probes further, thumb brushing over your clothed clit momentarily before shying away.

“Is this ok?” He murmurs against your lips. 

“Yes!” You reply hungrily as your hands slide down his arms, squeezing at the toned biceps. 

“I want you.” You say, pulling back slightly to look into his face, he smiles brightly 

“I’ve wanted you since I met you.” He replies, pulling you back into the kiss, not baring to part with you any longer. Something about that confession had a heat pooling in your core, and ache becoming ever so present between your legs. To know that his thoughts were tainted with the image of you whenever he was at his forge, you wondered just how lewd he got with it, wondered about all the things he wanted to do to you. 

“I want to taste you.” He pants between kisses, head falling to suck on the pulse point in your neck. 

“Oh Gods, yes.” Was your reply before he quickly repositioned you so that he was on top of your laying body. Dammon starts at your neck, kissing slowly down until he meets the collar of your shirt. His hands brush up under the seam of your shirt, before resting his hands upon your ribcage. 

“Gods, you’re perfect.” He whispers softly, almost to himself. “I want to touch you.” 

“Do it,” you reply, hand coming up to cup his face as you watch him from above, “Please.”

Dammon’s hand inch up before securely cupping each breast, he groans at the feeling of you in his hands. Your skin is hot as he gropes, kneading and rolling the tight buds of your nipples between his fingers, you cry out in pleasure, hands instinctively grabbing into his horns as he teases you. 

After a moment, he stops, grabbing onto the hem of your shirt and inching it up slightly, he looks into your eyes. You nod, arms lifting up over your head to aid in your shirt's removal. it was about now that you were glad to have forgone underclothes today. The look on Damon’s face said it all, he was happy about it too. He smirks up at you, but chooses not to say anything. Instead he brings his mouth over one of your sensitive buds, circling it with his hot tongue. Your head lolls back, mouth held open in a silent moan. His hands go to work on your trousers, expert fingers undoing the laces quickly and shucking it down your hips in one fluid tug. 

“You’re killing me here.” He groans out when he looks down and finds out you had forgone your underclothes on the bottom as well. You smile at him, carding your fingers through his tied-up hair.“What can I say? I had my hopes for the night.” And it was true, it seemed that everyone back at camp was getting cozy with someone tonight, and you had had your eyes on Dammon ever since you approached his forge for the first time; you couldn’t help but hope something would happen with him tonight. You felt like the luckiest girl in Faerûn that he chose you tonight, when you were sure this handsome man could have anyone he wanted in the camp. You bask in that fact for a while; he chose you. 

Now that you were entirely nude in front of him, you couldn’t help but feel the least bit exposed. You tug on his shirt.“What about you?” You ask, hands dipping under the hem to lay your hands flat against his navel.“I want to see you too.” You add on, lip slipping between your teeth as you look at him through your lashes. 

“Well since you asked so nicely.” He teases, leaning down to press a kiss to your lips before slipping his tunic over his horns. His body almost floors you, toned and ridged as it lays over you. Your hands naturally go to explore all the infernal ridges and curves of his muscles, gently skating your nails over wherever you could reach. All those years hammering away at the forge, working hard bending metal, really left its mark on his magnificent body, sculpting it perfectly for his occupation. 

“I wasn’t expecting all that.” You tease, smiling up at him. 

“Oh,” A light pink dusts his features, “Perk of the job, I suppose.”

You pull him down for another kiss as you whisper,“You’re perfect.” 

Dammon grinds down on your exposed clit, the material of his trousers rubbing you just right, you bite your hand to keep from crying out. 

“Ah ah,” He tuts, bringing your hand away from your mouth, 

“I want to hear you.”

He starts to kiss his way down your body, making sure to lavish your breasts in attention before moving on, planting feather-light kisses to your belly button and finally kissing your aching cunt. 

Dammon flattens his tongue against your wet folds, humming slightly as he tastes you finally. You cry out when he starts lapping at your hole, tongue moving in and out repeatedly. Your hands go to tangle in his hair, pulling out the hair tie as you do. You grip him for dear life as he works you over, your head falling to the cloak behind you. Dammon lifts your legs over his shoulder for better access, the tip of his nose brushing against your clit. You cry out again,

“F-fuck Dammon!”

His tongue flicks up to your clit and you moan, “Yes! More!” 

Dammon takes your command to heart as his attention seems to turn to your little bundle of nerves, lips wrapping around it and sucking gently. Then he changes tactic, flicking his tongue out to tease your clit, as his hands dig into their position on your thighs. You rock yourself against his mouth, grinding as best as you can and chasing your high as an orgasm appears on the horizon. Just a little more, that’s all you needed, just a little more. 

Dammon seems to recognize this as he returns to your hole, his fingers coming in to substitute the attention on your clit, rubbing small, steady circles on the sensitive nerves. Your legs clutch around his head, squeezing tightly as you chase your orgasm, finally coming on his tongue with a scream. 

When Dammon resurfaces, his face is slick with your juices, his hair hands loose around his ears and his eyes are blown with lust. You lead his face towards yours, tasting yourself on his tongue as you kiss him passionately. “I need you inside me,” You gasp as he gropes you again, lavishing the way his large hands feel cradling your breasts. 

Dammon braces himself on one forearm, using his free hand to tug his cock free from his trousers,

“You don’t have to tell me twice,” he leans down to join your mouths again, his rigid length slicking itself with your juices as it glides between your folds. His hard cock brushes up against your overstimulated clit over and over as he rocks his body above you, making sure to cover himself in your slick before pressing up against your entrance.

Dammon’s hand comes down to angle your hips, and he grinds against you one more time. “Tell me to stop and I will.” He groans, tipping his forehead against yours as he gazes at your eyes. “Don’t you dare.” You whisper, capturing his lips with yours. Dammon groans into the kiss, aligning himself with your entrance, he just couldn’t get past how perfect you are, how perfect this moment is. He slowly pushes himself inside you, moaning against your lips as your cunt swallows him inch by inch. 

“So fucking perfect..” He grits through his teeth, sheathing himself inside you completely. “You deserve so much better than a romp in the woods.” 

“Then take me out after this,” You gasp, folding your legs around him as you adjust to his size, “just you and me.”

“I would love nothing more.” He replies, giving your lips a cheeky peck before starting to slowly thrust inside you. You gasp at the feeling of being filled completely, of being stretched on his cock as he rocks inside you. This moment was everything you fantasized it would be and more, the way he felt inside you, his scent, just *him*. It was beautiful, it was perfect. 

Slowly, but surely Dammon’s thrust started to pick up speed,

“Fuck Dammon,” You moan, stringing together your words the best you can, “feel so good…“

Dammon was in the same boat as he thrust inside you, each snap of his hips earning a groan from his parted lips.

“Me? You take my cock so good, such a good girl-“ he cuts himself off with a grunt, loving the way your velvety walls flutter around his cock after each thrust. His face returns to your chest, mouth taking one nipple between his teeth and tugging lightly before smoothing it over with his hot tongue. You cried out at the sensation, a little worry wiggling itself into your brain that maybe you were still too close to camp, maybe they could all hear you chanting Damon’s name as he takes you in this clearing. Oh well, was the conclusion you reached as your nails raked up and down Dammon’s muscular back, let them hear. 

Your second orgasm was quickly approaching as he thrust mercilessly inside you, adjusting his angle to hit your g-spot every time. 

“I’m gonna cum,” You confessed, hands coming up to cup Dammon’s face. 

“I’m right there with you.” He says, leaning down to connect your mouths in a kiss. You feel his tongue enter your mouth as his thrusts become more erratic, sloppy. 

A few more thrusts and you’re there, walls fluttering around his cock as you come, crying out his name against his lips. He pumps you through your orgasm, breath hitching as he separates your mouths. 

“Where do you want me to-?” He asks, frantically looking over you as he waits for your answer.

“Inside me!” You almost yell, hands practically yanking him back down towards your face.

After a couple more thrusts, he comes inside you, filling you with his warm seed as he grunts loudly against your lips. You moan at the sensation of being stuffed, and he fucks his cum into you deeper. His hips still inside of you and he all but collapses above you, pressing his heated body against yours as he softens inside you. 

The two of you stay that way for a minute, just panting as you come down from your highs. Your wrap your arms around him as he rests his head on your stomach, rising and falling with each of your breaths. 

“Thank you,” He says into the darkness, “I’ve wanted that for a while now.”

“No problem,” you chuckle, taking a hand to run through his hair. “You owe me a date now.”

“That I do,” He replies, “that I do.”

─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: .☽ . :☆ﾟ. ───

A/N: Thank you so much for reading this little thing!! If you liked it, please consider giving me a follow as I will be writing more in the future.

[spiderandme]

i feel like it's underdiscussed how beautiful the lyricism of the otgw soundtrack is. idk whether the lyrics come from the blasting company or pat mchale or if it was a collaboration but like, i can't even start listing examples because it'll just be most of the lyrics in the whole show. just absurdly good poetic craftsmanship all the way through

[singularwetramennoodle]

The Crane Wives Have Gone Above and Beyond Beyond Beyond: An Album Review

The Crane Wives' newest album, Beyond Beyond Beyond, was released on September 6, 2024. It has been haunting my life ever since.

The album has ups and downs. The slowness in "Say It" really brings the anticipation, and everything past "if you could, would you erase me?" is pure liquid gold. But it just isn't as strong and visceral as the other songs on the album. "Higher Ground" also doesn't have the same energy because of the lack of structure, but after a few re-listens, it really grew on me.

As far as "Predator" goes, it takes a second to get used to the rhythm, but I love how it almost feels mocking. The melody rocks back and forth as the lyrics tear you into pieces. And I am absolutely GOBSMACKED by "Scars," "Bitter Medicine," and "Mad Dog." They all bring the feral energy that gets me so addicted to this band, and they bring a lot to it. I need to flat-out ignore the theme of "Black Hole Fantasy" and aggressively daydream to these three songs.

"Black Hole Fantasy" has, by the way, brutally murdered me. "Even in my fantasy I keep the car running in case I need to take off" stabbed me directly in the heart.

Finally, "Arcturus Beaming" seems to take a step forward after a long period of contemplation. You haven't quite reached a destination-- "nothing will change until I change" after all, but you're ready to return to the real world. It's a fitting song to hold the name of the album.

As custom for The Crane Wives, there are strong themes of the past, change, and "moving on" in their masterful lyrics. The story is keeps pushing forward, and you're following the character's thoughts as you're swept into the future along with them. There's less rhythm and structure in these songs compared to their biggest hits. While it takes a bit of getting used to, there's still a beautiful flow present throughout the songs and their craftsmanship.

[shadow-coolness]

Before the Year of Shadow im gonna drop my headcannon Boom Shadow origin:

Shadow was created by a group of Ancients as a The Ultimate Lifeform granted the power to control chaos energy from the chaos crystals to bring peace to the world but when Lyric went rogue he had to use that power to aid the ensuing war and for a long time all Shadow knew was battle turning him into a hardened warrior that shows no mercy towards his enemies, Now during this war Shadow was in an serious battle that resulted in him being put in stasis to heal and he was also hidden by the last surviving ancients so that Lyric couldn’t get his scaly robo hands on him and he was in stasis for years and years until he was finally freed by an elderly scientist called Gerald Robotnik and his granddaughter Maria though the Hedgehog had lost his memory only knowing his name of Shadow. Gerald wanted to discover what exactly Shadow is and why he was so powerful but Shadow himself was annoyed by these 2…“creatures” but since he had nowhere else to go he was stuck for them for the time being at least until he discovered his past, Shadow had to live in a science facility having to go through numerous tests everyday and when he wasn’t doing that he had to hang around Maria and do things like watch “Television”,play “games” and do craftsmanship which Maria was terrible at but Gerald still used the stuff she made anyway and therefore so did Shadow(he’d had coffee spill on him so many times he just started eating the beans) and his relationship with the other humans working at the facility was worse because unlike Gerald and Maria they didnt see him as his own person and Shadow would react to this in…less then peaceful ways and often needed to be stopped by Gerald or Maria. One of the tests Shadow had to go through were tests testing his physical capabilities and ability to control chaos and during these tests Shadow would get flashes of what seemed to battles that he took part in and he was also starting to realize just how powerful he truly was far too powerful to be confined to some facility, as time went on Shadow began to get impatient with Gerald’s lack of progress of finding out who Shadow was and where he came from so he went out on his own to an Ancient ruin where he found some writings in the ancients language that he could for some reason understand and he could make out the words “Ultimate Lifeform” and the conclusion he came to was that HE was this Ultimate Lifeform which would explain his abilities and this combined with his memories of battle could only mean he was made to fight and this was the turning point for him as now that he knew who he was he had no need for those humans anymore so he planned to strike out on his own but he was confronted by Maria who tried to convince him that there was more to him then some war machine but Shadow was done with her,her grandfather and humans as a whole and went off his own doing what he wanted,whenever he wanted, not letting anyone stand in his way especially not some Blue Hedgehog that relies on things like “The Power Of Friendship” and lame stuff like that.

[eddy25960]

🎤 WHAT'S CARLY SIMON'S BEST SONG? 🎤

On this day in 1972, CARLY SIMON released the single YOU'RE SO VAIN, a track that climbed to No. 1 on the US charts and remains one of the most debated songs in music history (Nov 8, 1972)

Written in the wake of Simon's high-profile relationships, the song captures her sharp lyrical wit and emotional insight. Produced by Richard Perry, its polished rock edge and infectious melody solidified Simon’s place as one of the decade’s most compelling singer-songwriters.

The recording features uncredited backing vocals from Mick Jagger, whose chemistry with Simon added to the song’s allure. The line "You walked into the party, like you were walking onto a yacht" came from a real-life moment, showcasing Simon's knack for blending vivid storytelling with universal themes.

Speculation about the song’s subject has included names like Warren Beatty, Kris Kristofferson, and Mick Jagger himself, though Simon has only confirmed parts of the second verse refer to Beatty. Adding to the intrigue, Simon famously auctioned off the subject's identity in 2003, with hints about the name sparking even more theories.

"You're So Vain" is more than a mystery—it’s a cultural touchstone. From its iconic “clouds in my coffee” lyric to its timeless critique of ego, it remains a song that listeners revisit for its raw honesty and brilliant craftsmanship.

[dollarbin]

Dollar Bin #44:

Kris and Rita's Full Moon

I've had a great week spinning Kris's records in his honor. Let's wrap that week up with an appreciation of the very best music he ever made with Rita Coolidge.

Full Moon barely merits as a Dollar Bin record - you're just as likely to find it for a quarter at a yard sale or pick it out of a thrift store free bin as you are to splurge a buck for it at your local shop. Incredibly, the record is judged as largely worthless. But it's a fantastic album and it consistently demonstrates the two performers' early craftsmanship, intimacy and grace.

In short, it's so hard not to admire what they were doing at the time.

I don't think you can overstate the immense shadows Kristofferson and Coolidge cast upon the mere mortals around them in 1973. There was no need to use their last names when discussing them in the press, in song or alongside Martin Mull at the Troubadour: Kris and Rita were the Taylor and the I-have-no-idea-what-her-football-man's-name-is of their day.

And so it's odd that Full Moon doesn't feature more heavily in Kris's story. Sure, there's more sway and swoon to be had on the record than stagger and shout, but the songs are great and Kristofferson does some of his very best singing as he strives to keep up with Coolidge.

I'm playing you the tracks in order so far: the opener, Hard To Be Friends, allows Rita to set the table; It's All Over affords Kris the chance to set a bucket of very light beer (that's the best kind, people!) down alongside her wildflowers on that table; and then I Never Had It So Good skips past hors d'oeuvres and gets us right to the main course: Love On A Plate.

Listen to the tremendous bass runs that dodge and gambol under the organ swell; isn't this stuff great?

Even so, a full album's worth of song this precious and artfully arranged would get snoozy - and the artists recognized as much. And so they interrupt the first side's elegant banquet with some classic, middle-period, Kristofferson: it's time for nachos and tequila shots for all.

Lyric sites will tell you the line is:

... If happiness is empty rooms and drinking in the afternoon then I guess I'm as happy as a clam. But if it's got a thing to do with smiling or forgetting you then I don't guess that I could say that I am...

But I've always heard "clown" in place of "clam" and I love that you really can't tell: Kris knows the saying is "happy as a clam" but he's a total clown here and generally whenever he tries to sing alongside the heavenly breath of Rita, and you can hear just how much he enjoyed their partnership at this point. She was a goddess clothed in turquoise and lace while he was a cheerfully drunk clown; kinda sounds like they drew up the blueprints for my own wonderful marriage.

But their relationship did not have the same luck as my own. Full Moon is far and away the best work they did together musically, and I get the sense that it also documents the best of their marriage as well.

Even so: when the bluebird sang for Kris and Rita, it sure as hell sang for all of us too...

[bloomingdarkgarden]

Humbly asking for any exquisite book recommendations please. 🙏 I'm in dire need of a good angsty slow burn that melts my heart in anyway close to what inspires you to write as you do. 🔥 Your writing is so uniquely you and I can't wait for you to publish your own craftsmanship. Until then, I'll humbly take any romance book recs and eagerly wait for story updates. 🙇‍♀️

Hi beautiful,

So I generally keep my summer reads light and magical and save angst for the fall but oh my god I just finished Juniper and Thorn by Ava Reid and it absolutely ruined me in the best way.

It is a Grimm fairytale retelling set in a russian-coded world where magic is sort of dying and being replaced by industry. The main character is a witch bound at home by her cursed wizard father. Her and her sisters escape at night to explore the revels of the city and she falls for a male ballet dancer who helps her escape confinement. The romance is tender, sensual and angsty and full of pining. Be warned, this book goes into some very dark places and the world is just dark in general. Loads of gothic and horror elements- but magic and whimsy too. A one eyed goblin lives in the yard, etc lol.

Ava Reid's prose is incredibly atmospheric and lyrical, which mine leans towards- so if you like my writing you will devour hers. She is a master storyteller, her words are haunting and will pull at the threads of your soul in an absolutely profound way. There were points in this book where I had to set it aside because a passage of prose just quelled something so deeply in me I had to adjust. Reid's work is nowhere near the same ballpark as SJM's - Ava's writing is truly leagues above, albeit darker in nature. Anyway I have a recc list going I'll post soon with more books 🖤 Here's some J+T passages:

He was still painted in gold and wearing his feathered mantle, and his chest was still heaving but there was no muddle of vodka in his gaze, nothing between his eyes and mine. I felt oddly naked then, even though he was the one bare-breasted. I felt stared to my marrow, looked at in a way people only ever looked at my sisters. It was like someone were fishing for coins in a fountain and had finally closed their fingers around the one that was me.

Another passage:

"Let her eat black plums and never taste the poison. Let her bathe naked in the stream without ever drawing a hunter's wanton eye. Let all the bears she meets be friendly and pliant, and never men in disguise. Let her never fall prey to the banality of the world. Let her never fall in love."

Criminally beautiful writing i cannot overstate.

[thegreatestfilmnevermade]

i'm writing an essay on the 1975's:

Musical evolution

Lyrical depth

Production brilliance

Visual creativity

And cultural impact

have any thoughts, opinions, or anything of the sorts? comment underneath or message me and let me know please! i want this to have a lot of heart, but still be quite analytical and appreciative of their craftsmanship. i'd love to hear straight from the fans and gain some insights :)

this isn't for anything academic btw! i just love writing essays lmao

[literaryxbones]

Gothic History-Episode 3: Bauhaus

Welcome back to my Third Episode of Goth History. Before reading this episode, it might be helpful to read over the very first episode, which overviews the history of goth music and the genre's most influential bands. My older post is attached here for convenience.

For today's installment, we'll be re-examining history once again: specifically the late 1970's. A band called Bauhaus, fronted by vocalist Peter Murphy, became one of gothic rock's first pioneers. We'll be discussing their early success, inspiration, and influence on the contemporary goth scene.

Bauhaus' formation can be traced back to friendships between Peter Murphy, guitarist Daniel Ash, bassist David J, and drummer Kevin Haskins.

The name Bauhaus referenced the art period of the same name. This social movement gained traction throughout Weimar, Dessau, and Berlin, Germany. It's philosophy sought to combine thoughtful architecture with applied arts. Rather than crafting individual, adorned furniture pieces, the Bauhaus school aimed to construct functional items, with less of a focus on decoration. As a result, their craftsmanship remained accessible to the public. They incorporated mass-production techniques to make their selections available to the working class. Designers famously used geometric styles in their creations.

(1920's Bauhaus desk, armchair, and art.)

University workshops also included women in certain subjects such as sewing and ceramics. In the west, women's schooling was not supported by the government or state. Bauhaus, however, was state-funded. In older America, there was no federal incentive for girls to go to school.

Now that my feminist tangent is concluded, the four members chose "Bauhaus" to reflect their taste in art, architecture, and experimental movements.

(I have a theory that since the Bauhaus movement targeted the working class, that the Bauhaus band also wanted to include working-middle class people in its subculture. Which could be a part of the reason why DIY is so important to the goth scene. But this is just a speculation, and is not at all confirmed.)

Bauhaus released their hit single in 1979, titled Bela Lugosi's dead. Peter Murphy's deep, haunting vocals help distinguish the band from the wider post-punk pivot.

In 1980, Bauhaus released its first debut album. "In the Flat Field" solidified the group's soundscape. Minor-toned basses, a bleak performance, and a brooding atmosphere are all famous hallmarks of the band, showcased in this very album.

After "In the Flat Field", Bauhaus released 3 more albums, before disbanding only 3 years later in 1983. Among them was "The Sky's Gone Out," which is my personal favorite album. In case you are wondering, "All I Ever Wanted Was Everything" is my favorite track.

Peter Murphy has since cultivated a successful solo career. I couldn't find a concrete "reason" for the band's dissolution, but it's worthy to note that all of the former members remain good friends to this day.

The history of this band was unfortunately short-lived. Still, they are a cornerstone of the goth subculture. I love them for their literary lyrics, grim gothic atmosphere, and stylistic vocals.

All in all, it was hard to find much information on Bauhaus' history. Most articles I came across are community-led, which is a great thing but I cannot ascertain much of their credibility.

Still, their discography cemented gothic rock as an innovative, stand-alone genre. It is eloquent, bleak, ominous, and poetic. Despite having heavier instrumentation, goth rock has a refined reservation. It doesn't tell its audience directly what to believe and do with their lives. It allows listeners to introspect and interpret the tracks for themselves.

Sources:

Bauhaus: Unmasking the Gothic Pioneers of Post-Punk (influenceandsounds.com)

Bauhaus | Definition, Style, Artists, Architecture, Art, & Facts | Britannica

Written by SORDID, animated chain border sourced from @grungenglam

[songwriting-and-performing]

John Lennon on “Across the Universe”:

“It’s one of the best lyrics I’ve written. In fact, it could be the best. It’s good poetry, or whatever you call it, without chewing it. See, the ones I like are the ones that stand as words without melody. They don’t have to have any melody, like a poem you can read them.

I was lying next to my first wife in bed, you know, and I was irritated. She must have been going on and on about something and she’d gone to sleep and I’d kept hearing these words over and over, flowing like an endless stream. I went downstairs and it turned into sort of a cosmic song rather than an irritated song, rather than a, ‘Why are you always mouthing off at me?’ or whatever, right?

But the words stand, luckily, by themselves. They were purely inspirational and were given to me as 'boom!' I don’t own it, you know; it came through like that. I don’t know where it came from, what meter it’s in, and I’ve sat down and looked at it and said, ‘Can I write another one with this meter?’

It’s so interesting: ‘Words are flying out like endless rain into a paper cup, they slither while they pass they slip away across the universe.’ Such an extraordinary meter and I can never repeat it! It’s not a matter of craftsmanship, it wrote itself. It drove me out of bed. I didn’t want to write it, I was just slightly irritable and I went downstairs and I couldn’t get to sleep until I put it on paper, and then I went to sleep.

It’s like being possessed, like a psychic or a medium. The thing has to go down. It won’t let you sleep, so you have to get up, make it into something, and then you’re allowed to sleep. That’s always in the middle of the bloody night, when you’re half awake or tired and your critical facilities are switched off.”