#Sour Milk Sea

[freddiemercurylegendabovelegends]

March 1970, High Street, Leatherhead, Surrey, UK - Freddie Bulsara auditioned for Sour Milk Sea band, after seeing a ‘vocalist wanted’ in the ‘Melody Maker, Freddie accompanied by 'roadies' Roger Taylor and John Harris

Rob Tyrell recalls seeing him for the first time: “Freddie auditioned with us in a youth club in crypt of a church in Dorking. We were all blown away. He was very confident. I don’t think it was any great surprise to him when we offered him the job.” Jeremy Gallop agrees: “He had an immense amount of charisma, which is why we chose him. Although, we were actually spoilt for choice that day. Normally at auditions, you’d get four or five guys who were rubbish, but we had two other strong contenders. One was a black guy, who had the voice of God, but he didn’t have the looks of Fred, and the other person was Bridget St. John.

Chris Chesney: “I remember Freddie being really energetic and moving around a lot at the audition, coming up and flashing the mike at me during guitar solos. He was impressive. There was an immediate vibe. He had a great vocal range. He sang falsetto; nobody else had the bottle to do that. He said ‘Do your own songs and I’ll make up my own words’ It was very clever and very good.”

“When Freddie joined,” Chris continues, “We were on a roll. We were in the habit of playing two or three gigs a week and we continued to do so. I think we played down at the Temple in Lower Wardour Street with Freddie, the Oxford gig, and a few others.”

The Oxford gig was in the ballroom at the Randolph Hotel, one of the grandest in the city, “It was like a society-type bash, debs in frocks and all that,” recalls Chris. “I remember our sound wasn’t great.” Jeremy Gallop adds: “Freddie definitely managed to get what people were there in the palm of his hand, just by sheer aggression and his good looks. He was very posy, very camp, and quite vain. I remember him coming to my house and looking in the mirror, poking his long hair. He said ‘I look good today. Don’t you think Rubber?’ I thought, ‘Fuck Off!’ I was only eighteen at the time, and didn’t think it was funny, Now It’s hilarious.”

The only other gig featuring Freddie which the other members of Sour Milk Sea are certain about was a benefit for the homeless charity ‘Shelter’, staged at the Highfield Parish hall in Headington, Oxford, on 20th March 1970 – just weeks before Freddie teamed up with Brian May and Roger Taylor in a new group. “That was probably the last gig we played with him,” remarks Chris Chesney.

Surprisingly enough for such a low-key gig, just like Ibex’s Bolton show, Sour Milk Sea’s appearance at Headington, also made the local paper. This time it was the ‘Oxford Mail’ and incredibly, the paper also included a photograph of the group complete with Freddie – the only known shot to exist of him with Sour Milk Sea. Typically Freddie is the only one looking at the camera.

The article included an interview with the band on account of Chris Chesney’s parents being minor celebrities. It also remarked that vocalist Freddie Bulsara had only arrived ‘a couple of weeks ago’, and quoted form his song ‘Lover’. More importantly, as Chris told the paper at the time: “I don’t feel we are like any other group. Our approach is based on our relationships with one another.”

These relationships held much promise, but were fraught with danger, as Chris soon discovered. “I was staying with ‘Rubber’ at the time.” He recounts. “Then Freddie asked me to stay with him in Barnes. So I did, and we started songwriting together, getting into each other’s heads. His chords were kind of weird. They broke all the rules. F-Sharp minor to F back to A. That was totally new for me. I thought it was all very current and that we could blend our two approaches together.”

Chris continues: “We did two or three of Freddie’s songs. He had some material from the Ibex days, including ‘Lover’, ‘Blag’ and ‘FEWA’ He was good at lyrics and we wrote a couple of numbers, some big, operatic pieces. Operatic in the sense that they broke down into solo guitar parts, then built up again vocally. I can’t for the life of me remember what they were called. He also introduced weird covers like ‘Jailhouse Rock’. We’d never considered playing Elvis, or Little Richard’s ‘Lucille’. Then he had his little rock ‘n’ roll medley, which pushed the band into a showbiz direction, which I liked. He also had a lot of stagecraft going. I had a good relationship with Freddie and he liked the way I moved on stage. We were like Bowie and Ronson, where we related physically to each other on stage”.

No one in Ibex, Wreckage or Sour Milk Sea had suspected that Freddie was gay. Indeed Mike Bersin has pointed out; “Freddie had a girlfriend, Mary Austin at the time”. “Ambiguous sexuality was par for the course then.” Recalls Chris Chesney. “You didn’t question it. Anybody who did was totally unhip.” Chris and Freddie’s friendship was platonic, but close: “He wanted to style me, give me some clothes to wear, and the relationship between us got quite strong. ‘Rubber’ soon realised there was nothing in it for him.”

(➡️ source: http://www.queenpedia.com/index.php?title=Sour_Milk_Sea)

[harrisonarchive]

Photo by Bill Zygmant.

The Harrisong “Sour Milk Sea” was recorded by Jackie for his album Is This What You Want? (as George recalled in I Me Mine, the song was “really about meditation.... I used ‘Sour Milk Sea’ as the idea of — if you’re in the s***, don’t go around moaning about it: do something about it.”) Also while in California, 55 years ago… “Because he knows exactly what Jackie is after on his records, George is the ideal producer for him. They share a lot of feelings together and have this great musical sympathy as it were. George spent a lot of time with orchestras doing arrangements whenever these were necessary.” - Mal Evans, The Beatles Monthly, January 1969 “George was a champion. He made time for me and was protective even, inviting me to his home. I felt really privileged. It was incredible. To have my name associated with The Beatles – what better thing could happen to a budding artist?” - Jackie Lomax, Apple Records website After George’s passing, Jackie wrote and recorded the song “Friend-A-Mine” in his honor; it appears on The Ballad of Liverpool Slim. (x)

[plakatierenverboten]

Jackie Lomax: Sour Milk Sea (Show Pänggggg Video, 1968)

[mannytoodope]

Farrokh Bulsara (5 September 1946 – 24 November 1991), known professionally as Freddie Mercury, was a singer, songwriter, and record producer best known as the lead vocalist of the rock band Queen. He is known for his excellent four-octave vocal range and flamboyant persona on stage. Mercury wrote several hit songs for Queen, including “Bohemian Rhapsody,” “ Killer Queen, “Don’t Stop Me Now,” and” We Are the Champions.” He frequently collaborated with David Bowie and other artists. When he embarked on a solo career, he served as a producer and guest musician for other artists. He was posthumously awarded the Brit Award for Outstanding Contribution to British Music in 1992, and they held a tribute concert at Wembley Stadium. In 2001, he was inducted into the Rock and Roll Hall of Fame as a member of Queen. He was inducted into the Songwriters Hall of Fame in 2003 and the UK Hall of Fame the following year. Freddie’s stage presences as a lead vocalist were extraordinary. He felt the music and never seemed to “ phone it in.” He is what a lead singer should or can be. He has left an impressive mark in a rock music family; peers and fans miss him.

[morethansalad]

Elote Soup (Vegan)

[neon-zipperooni]

we ball, assorted headcanons

when amber sugar cookie sees a flower to collect pollen and nectar from, his bee instincts kick in and he goes "bzzzzzz" and starts flying over there and nobody can stop him until he attains the nectar

for people matcha cookie cares for, she'll sometimes randomly appear at 3AM with gifts for them

pure vanilla cookie is trying to keep up with the youth's slang, much to the misfortune of anyone around him (bonus points if you hc pure vanilla and dark cacao as married like i do so dark cacao just dies a little on the inside every time his husband says the word "swag"), PV is also good friends with millennial tree cookie and the slang is starting to rub off on him too. oh no.

sea fairy cookie and moonlight cookie are the mothers of the five mermaid sisters as well as abyss monarch cookie, thus making stardust cookie an uncle

dino-sour cookie is trans (FtM) and when he came out sour belt IMMEDIATELY got to work sewing some masculine clothes for him

also pond dino cookie is dino-sour's adoptive child and i will die on this hill

shadow milk cookie hates jukebox musicals, but otherwise the man LOVES musicals and can and will break into a musical number while terrorizing people, despite being a twisted freaking cycle path whatever sane part of him is left wants to catch up on all the plays and musicals he missed while sealed away

if you throw down bird seed any of the birdlike or bird adjacent cookies (wind archer, blue slushy, red panna cotta, sugar swan, crowberry, stardust, golden cheese, smoked cheese, etc.) would feel the urge to fly/walk over and. peck peck the bird seed

dark choco cookie is touched starved and surprisingly easily flustered

milk cookie is very physically affectionate and gives really good hugs and is even MORE easily flustered (darkmilk is my roman empire)

twizzly gummy cookie took her band of misfits to the barbenheimer premiere

the beast cookies experience massive culture shock when they see the modern cookie world, it's like showing an iphone to your grandparents

okay mermaid's tale spoilers in this one kinda so look away if you haven't seen it yet and this one is more of a rejection of canon than a headcanon but the mermaid sisters, especially crimson coral, were NOT all like "well at least she got the strength she wanted to protect the seas now she'll be okay" they were utterly devastated at what white pearl cookie had become barely resembling the kind mermaid she once was, crimson coral sometimes contemplates swimming over there to see her again but she has to keep the other tearcrown residents safe (they didn't seem nearly as fazed as they should've been imo)

[askwhatsforlunch]

Creamy Sage Polenta

Another deliciously comforting, and blissfully simple dish for a cold and wet Autumn day, this Creamy Sage Polenta makes both an easy main or a nice side to slowly stewed meat!

Ingredients (serves 2):

1/2 cup semi-skimmed milk

1 1/2 cup water

1 teaspoon coarse sea salt

3 fluffy sprigs Garden Sage 

3/4 cup polenta

4 tablespoons unsalted butter

1/4 cup crème fraîche or sour cream

In a large saucepan, combine milk, water and coarse sea salt.

Cut Garden Sage Leaves off the stalks, and add Sage stalks to the saucepan. Heat over a medium flame until simmering. Remove Sage stalks.

Finely chop Sage Leaves.

Add polenta all at once, energetically stirring with a whisk to prevent lumps from forming. Whisk constantly until mixture thickens. Once it has, whisk in butter. Finally, stir in chopped Sage and crème fraîche until completely melted and you have a beautifully smooth polenta.

Serve Creamy Sage Polenta hot, topped with anchovies or Tapenade, if you wish.

[kitchenwitchtingss]

A WITCH'S ANTI-HEX CREAMY LEMONADE

Isn’t it funny how certain ingredients seem to find you? There's just something about blackberries and lavender that just draw me in. This potion—I mean, lemonade—is my go-to when I need a little unhexing, a little clarity, and a lot of comfort. Think of it as a drinkable charm: simple, sweet, and full of protective magic.

INGREDIENTS

1 lemon

clarity and purification

Blackberries (As much as you'd like)

for protection, and to soothe

A sage leaf or two

good luck and protection

2 tbsp condensed milk (optional if you don't want it to be creamy)

comfort and sweetness

1/4 cup sugar

to sweeten sour intentions

1 1/2 cup water

The tiniest pinch of sea salt

protection and warding

Crushed ice

chilling volatile emotions

TIP!: Repurpose a sauce, jam jar, or something with a lid! Use to shake up on the go! 🌒✨

DIRECTIONS

Draw a protection sigil on the bottom of your jar—or tuck one beneath it on a slip of paper. Choose or create a sigil that speaks to you.

In the bottom of a jar, muddle sliced lemon and blackberries, along with sugar. Add in condensed milk, sea salt, and water. Add a sage leaf, seal and shake vigorously until combined. Add in crushed ice and serve!

Blessed be, and may your lemonade always be hex-free~

[ltwilliammowett]

Cooking like a Sailor- Mehlbeutel/ Flour Pouch

This dish is typical of the North German coastal region and in Denmark it is known as Melbudding and has been popular since the 17th century. Mehlbüddel used to be the ideal dish on farms, in large families and on festive occasions and also at sea, as it used to be cooked in a pot with smoked meat so that it could take on this flavour. It is then traditionally eaten with kirch sauce. In other words, a savoury, sweet dish.

For the flour pouch you need

6 eggs, 375 ml milk, 100 g butter, 50 g lard, 630 g flour, 1 tsp salt, a little lemon zest, 1 kilo pork neck, 1 pinch of love, 500 g sour cherries, 1/2 litre cherry juice, 1 tsp vanilla sugar, 1/2 teaspoon cinnamon and 20 g cornflour.

The preparation

Firstly, melt the butter and lard in a pan and leave to cool. Bring about two litres of water to the boil in a large pan.

Next, separate the eggs. Beat the egg whites until stiff and set aside. Whisk the egg yolks with the milk and stir the slightly cooled butter into the egg milk. Then mix the flour with the salt and lemon zest and stir into the liquid.

Finally, fold in the stiffly beaten egg whites. Sprinkle flour onto a muslin cloth, place in the centre of a large bowl and press down in the middle. The ends should hang over the edge. Pour the flour bag dough into the cloth and tie the corners of the cloth tightly in a criss-cross pattern.

Push a wooden spoon through the openings and hang the flour bag in the boiling water. The flour bag should hang in the water, but no water should run into the cloth from above. Ideally, the flour bag should not touch the bottom of the pot.

As soon as the water in the pan boils again after the flour bag has been suspended, reduce the heat to low and leave the flour bag to stand for about 1.5 hours.

After half an hour, briefly remove the flour bag from the pan and place the piece of neck of pork on the bottom of the pan. Replace the cloth and leave to infuse for a further hour.

Shortly before the end of the cooking time, bring the cherries and their juice to the boil.

Mix the cornflour with a little cold water and stir into the boiling liquid.

Bring to the boil briefly and serve.

The recipe is from Herzlieb.de

[shruiee]

put it on me | d.t x reader x r.t | vampire au | bloody baby au

an: heyyy ya’ll missed me? had a tove lo song stuck in my head it’s talking body.

synopsis: baby knows she has been made to forget, she knows they are pretending to, everything is alright but is it?

warning: overconsumption of alcohol, compelling, argument.

You were dead sure something was off, like visually not a hair out of place but you just knew, like a nagging intuition burning holes into your stomach. Though it could have been the last shot oqf tequila you took.

They let you off the fucking island, it made no sense. What four months of playing a captured princess and out of nowhere “Go birdie go fly and be free.” something was off it was sour milk in your mouth. One could even say it was because you were touch deprived, but the more shocking detail to take note of was the lack of puncture marks in your body. This wasn’t some insecurity bullshit again, this was them hovering over you from the balconies watching you dance with you friends and not lifting a finger to feel you up.

Absurd isn't it?

Something happened, you can only feel it in your dreams, something deeply wrong— something that you were not supposed to see but you hadn't been compelled, at least you think you weren’t. You simply woke up in their bed three weeks and they’ve pretended like you would break from a single touch, and they watch you—constantly. When you eat, when you read on the lawn and sometimes you could swear they watch you sleep.

This uneasiness was tearing at you, were they done with you? Their own martial relations seemed to be a little too close, they always were but you never felt left out but now you did, you felt nervous even to walk up to Rhaenyra for a hug in the morning. And now this.

A taste of caged freedom. Freedom.

Who knew you'd grow so fond of the cage that housed you, a golden stone castle far from any life you’ve ever seen? Yet here you were now, at a cheap club your friends and you had graced every weekend after working on your thesis to chug fireballs and vodka.

Freedom? That's what the wanted you to feel, to help you transition back to your mortal life. Well then, a taste of it should have been fair for all. So you didn't hesitate after pulling another bill from your bra and ordering another round for your girlfriends. You loved them, you missed them, but right now your sense of celebration wasn't for them. As the bitter liquid burned at your throat, you shot daggers at the balconies again and disappeared into the crowd.

Deep in the sea of sweaty bodies jumping with no care in the world, thick into where the intentions of every one were similar, “We’re free game” You didn't care who touched you, just as way before when you didn't. You never know the person, hell you couldn't even make out their face from the lights but you felt the hands, the grinding.

It did feel freeing, compelled or not, you could do it— slip further into the crowd and just slip out of this dingy club. Disappear with the money and ID tucked into the lining of your bra, they won't find you. Strom City was far too vast to find a little scorned soul nearing the bottom of the bottle. You closed your eyes and just felt the music and the alcohol making you feel weightless, you lifted your hands into your hair to cook the back of your neck as you continued to sway, a stranger’s beer can pressed to the back of it. You smiled at your friends dancing, reaching for the coolers in one of their hands and took a big swig. You could feel the bile at the back of your throat, but you knew you'd been fine if you just kept dancing.

You could still feel hands on you and yet no faces, it wasn't until you turned that you could finally register faces— or well a face.

Daemon stood still amongst the dancing crowd, arms crossed and neck just slightly titled. Silently questioning as to the fuck were you up to.

You didn't stop, looking right at him you kept dancing when the beat dropped stealing the last of your friend’s drink. Hips swaying and still holding your wild hair so you don't overheat, you knew you were playing with fire. What's the worst that could happen? They’d drain you of all blood until there was no life left in you? You’d come to terms with that possibility months ago.

You could feel him nearing, shrugging off the mortal bodies coming in contact with him. You could hear your friends giggling as she reached for your hand and yanked you through the crowd.

“What the fuck were you thinking,” Daemon said, looking very visually irked as he sat comfortably on the hotel couch.

Rhaenyra had barely anything to say but she was angry, you could see it. A conflicted hurt. The rules were clear, they were crystal and you'd broken them.

You scoffed sipping on the glass of water you were forced to drink as you leaned against the bathroom door, still heeled and dizzy. You couldn't digest their discontent when they were ones playing games with you.

“We have very simple rule-”

“Oh fuck your rules!” you cut him off

“It's just bodies isn't it,” you said holding in a hiccup “We are just bodies.”

Rhaenyra opened her mouth but you raised your finger to stop her, stumbling of the bathroom door and walking to the middle of the room.

“How many? How many girls? How many men? I mean fuck!” you shook your head stumbling a bit.

They entertained your outburst, usually you were so placated that this was beyond the unusual.

“Don't you see, you've lived the two of you have each other, have been married for like a forever long time, and me. I'm twenty— human years mortal, simple-bodied.” you tap your head to see if they saw your point.

“I have barely loved, and now that I do—” you hiccup blinking your drunk tears away “its with two blood-sucking—” you stopped yourself laughing.

“I’m just a body to you that you use for fun.” you laugh, mascara tears coating your face.

Rhaenyra finally speaks “that is not true.”

You scoff once more, this time breaking the glass of water you'd been drinking against the bedstand “Turn me then.”

Daemon turned his face, looking out the window and Rhaenyra now stood shaking her head at you.

You could feel the glass imbedded into your palm, you raised the broken shard at her— lil quivering. “Turn me.”

“Turn me.” it sounds like a pathetic prayer.

This time Daemon turned to you, eyes narrowed staring at your bleeding palm, he looked at his wife. He knew this would have come to this conclusion, it always does.

You knew you’d die soon, whether it was to come back as one of them or dead for good. You’d made your peace with it a week before, pouring your heart out in the pages of your journal. Though what were you expecting, that the sex with you was that good that they’d have you around for a life time.

You served one purpose for them, to be their walking blood bag, a toy for them to use and dress as they pleased.

“Turn me.” you said once more.

This time Daemon pushed off the couch, he was in front of you within a blink of an eye, nostrils flared as he grabbed the back of your hair and yanked it back.

“You want to sell your soul that bad? You’d break even before it began sweet girl. The pain of the turn, but sure since you want it that bad.” he bit into the back of his hand and pressed it to your mouth.

The taste of bitter copper filled your mouth, it was true human blood tasted far sweeter, and you’d tasted it on their lips countless times. Your own blood.

“Daemon stop.” Rhaenyra said this time, approaching her husband.

He did not budge, still staring your soul down as he pulled the glass shard from your hand. He didn't hesitate to press it against your carotid artery, the faintest if pressure and he’d dig in. You bleed out and either come out as one of them or a feral— a demon of sorts. They wouldn't take that risk but Daemon was so done for it.

He knew the truth of what he’d compelled away from you, the attack, the threat that somebody was after them— he feared not for him or Rhaenyra but if they found you. He had thought of turning you a thousand times over, and so had Rhaenyra, though the possibility that you may not make the other side. Not many survive the pain, not many come out looking like their mortal bodies but mangled creatures from hell.

However Daemon had snapped, he grew irked from having to hide the truth, from having to pull away. True he had Rhaenyra to come to with his ails but she would sway him otherwise. Rhaenyra battled the guilt of nearly killing you for days, she still does and cannot touch you without remembering her teeth digging into your flesh. You may not remember it, but she had torn you within an inch of your life.

“Daemon we have to let her go.” Rhaenyra urged.

This time your eyes snapped to her and then back to Daemon.

“No turn me.” you urged, this time pushing yourself against the shard of glass “turn me.”

Daemon threw the shard away, shaking his head as he held your shoulders.

“No no, you're not leaving me.” the panic set into your body, death would have been easier. “Just turn me, I can do it.” you hiccuped.

Rhaenyra this time finally touched you, pulling you closer and embracing you, your senses were completely engulfed by her. The way she smelled, her touch, her hair.

You kept mumbling “no” incoherently as she sat you down on the bed.

Her eyes dilated as she shushed you, you looked at Daemon, his stern expression held pain to it if you looked close enough. He leaned against a wall. He knew Rhaenyra had to be the one to do this.

You felt no pain as Rhaenyra pulled the small pieces of glass from your hand, they were already healing because of Daemon’s blood.

“I’m so sorry my love,” she kissed your palms as she sat them back down onto your lap. “It isn't safe anymore.”

“Please don't,” you pouted, more tears flowing down your cheeks. “Don’t leave.”

“You were away on a vacation in the Summer. Isles, you needed a break. You won't remember us, anything about the past six months, it will be as though time stopped and brought you back to reality.” Rhaenyra whispered, kissing your forehead.

“Please.” you cried.

“The pain you feel now will be gone, we will be gone.” her eyes dilated one more as she shuffled your body back into the bed. “Go to sleep.”

Okie and that's a wrap!! I had so much fun writing this chapter, kinda poured my own breakup pain into it. Either way, I can't wait to start writing more!!

[fandom-fun-for-sluts]

I am incredibly normal about Baldur's Gate 3. I spend a normal amount of time thinking about these characters.

Below the cut is a organized list of perfumes/scents for the characters, including all the origin characters and several side characters

Perfume note rundown:

Notes are defined by how long they last in the fragrance; short, middle, and long.

Top notes: What you smell immediately after perfume touches skin, evaporates first

Heart notes: ties together the top and base notes, while being the main note during most of the wear

Base notes: What lasts the longest, usually the underlying scent that runs underneath all the other notes

skin scent: the stage of perfume where it's died down to the point it's only detectable right at the skin

TOP HEART BASE

Wyll: Jasmine cedarwood suede

skin scent: vanilla

Astarion: Bergamot rosemary brandy

If ascended: dark chocolate

skin scent: blood

Gale: parchment old books ash

rosewater velvet gunpowder

Shadowheart: saffron milk(<-selunite->)lavender

osmanthus red wine(<-sharran->)truffle

skin scent: makeup powder

Karlach: smoke magnolia leather

fire safraleine myrrh

gasoline sweat

skin scent: motor oil

Lae’zel: kumquat lapsang souchong timur

neroli mate amyris

Leather

skin scent: sweat

Halsin: fern oak oakmoss

ambrette haitian vetiver animal fur

sage tobacco benzoin

skin scent: musk

Jaehira: Incense desert sagebrush guaiac wood

tea tree soap raspberry leaf andiroba

skin scent: cat fur

Minsc: mountain air leather (hamster) fur

Minthara: incense pomegranate labdanum

coffee bitter orange

Mizora: heliotrope tuberose lipstick

jasmine lilac metallic notes

Dried roses

skin scent: sulphur

Raphael: peppercorn bordeaux cherry balsamic

vinegar

reduction

palmarosa mahogany

Dame Aylin: cold metal milk cashmeran

oolong tea ginger candle wax

Isobel: milk sandalwood flower linen

honey driftwood suede

skin scent: dust

Orin: blood salt dragon blood resin

Gortash: japanese vetiver whiskey peat

motor oil

Ketheric: dust ebony wood stone

Withers: dust parchment moss

Ink buddha wood

Dammon: hot iron almond japanese vetiver

motor oil tonka bean

Rolan: ink pressed cotton ozone

Omeluum: lemongrass driftwood mushroom

sea water pu’er tea

Blurg: pu’er tea coffee dirt

mushroom

Volo: black sapote praline cedarwood

amaretto shea butter

Alfira: powdered sugar fresh cream waffle cone

honeysuckle

Ethel: cherry blossom marmalade sour milk

candied lemon dirt

Drow Twins: yuzu raspberry dark chocolate

rose alba amber sweat

[deathmybride]

*:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧ these violent delights | davos blackwood (part 6) *:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧

Part 1 | Part 2 | Part 3 | Part 4 ❤️‍🔥| Part 5 | Part 6 | Part 7 | Part 8 | Part 9 ❤️‍🔥

ship: davos blackwood x fem!oc

warnings: MORE catholic guilt, attempted rape, graphic description of violence

summary: cersha and davos take their leave of the inn.

word count: 2334

a/n: this part was pretty confronting to write, and i imagine in may be confronting to read. i think its necessary tho to show the lengths davos will go to for cersha. i hope you find some enjoyment in it.

She had rightly predicted that waking alone would sour Davos’ mood, but she could not have known he would be sullen for the rest of the waking day. When she returned with her arms overflowing with yellow blooms, she found him already sitting in the mess, his hands clasped and sitting on the table, his dour expression looking so much like her father. She flashed him a breezy smile as she handed the flowers over to the red-haired maid who squealed with delight and went fluttering around the hall to fill every vase she could find.

“Good morrow.” Cersha greeted him with a placating smile and threaded the stem of the finest flower she had found through the buckle of his cloak. It was white as milk and double-petalled, a sport bride amongst the sea of her yellow-gowned sisters. She kissed his temple in greeting and he jerked his head as if her lips burned him.

“Mmph.” He complained, his hand catching her arm in a firm grasp as he looked at her pointedly. She was grateful he had remembered to stick to their cover story.

“You slept heavily this morning, but I was restless. I stepped outside for some air.” His eyes darted to the window, behind which Ser Eltyn was making his slow return across the field. “A brother of the Night’s Watch, come to the Riverlands to gather recruits. He feared for my safety, so he came to guard me.” Davos snarled wordlessly and banged his fist on the table. The redhead maid yelped. Cersha leaned in and muttered in his ear. “He has the affect of a Westerlander. He knows nothing of Blackwoods nor-”

“Hggch!” He hissed and snatched his hand from her arm, eyes flashing with… hurt?

“Fine. Be like that.”

They broke their fast in a silence that lasted for the whole morning and leaked into the afternoon. Ser Eltyn sat nearby them and tried several times to tempt Cersha into conversation, but to no avail. He realised at last that it was futile when he made a jibe about the bloom on the collar of ‘Jack’s’ cloak. Davos had stood, fist raised and trembling with tension as if he meant to wheel back and punch him, but when Cersha took that fist in her hand and kissed the knuckles, he softened and sat back down. As they mounted their palfreys (the innkeep had swindled another silver dragon from them in exchange for the riding gear) Ser Eltyn made his last attempt to ingratiate himself to them, begging them once again to let him accompany them on the ride to Riverrun, if they only waited a day while he sorted his affairs at the inn. Cersha declined him as delicately as she could, while Davos puffed up and looked as imposing as a mute boy could be.

Over the past three days of travelling on foot and injured they had covered the equivalent of half a day’s ride, and it would take another day and a half to arrive at Riverrun if they took to the woods for protection. They were both determined to reach their destination before their paths crossed with the black brother, kindly as he may be. As few eyes on them as possible would be the safest way to travel. The innkeep had lied about the condition of the horses. Two palfreys could not have hated each other more, and they had to ride with at least three feet between them lest they start snapping at one another. It only served to amplify the tension of the morning that had settled on them thicker than the smog on that fateful dawn when they met, and neither spoke in earnest until they had settled in a clearing and begun to set up camp.

“You’ve been awful quiet today.” Cersha remarked, brushing down her chestnut steed whom she had been calling ‘Pony’ in lieu of a proper name.

Davos cast her a sidelong glance from where he tended to his own bay gelding- named ‘Boy,’ Cersha supposed- and sighed quietly in annoyance.

“I miss Bess. This is a fine horse, but he has none of her fire. They stole it from you, didn’t they, Boy?”

“That’s not all, is it?”

He paused, turning away from her to hide his jaw feathering.

“You’ve been quiet too.”

She hesitated. What could she say? That the thought of his fingers and lips in the dark sent waves of shame through her so strong that she felt the urge to vomit up her sin? That his touch had felt so right and so cleansing that it had shaken the very concept of sin in her mind? That every squeeze of her heart at the sight of him felt like spitting on her cousin’s grave?

“Just been thinking of home.”

“Hmph.” He took up his saddle and leaned it against a tree.

Cersha collected her bow and arrows, and collection of string and knives for snares.

“You left me.” He said at last.

“For half of an hour at most.”

“I can’t-” He rounded on her and puffed a breath. “I can’t protect you if you leave me.”

“I leave you to hunt every day.”

“That’s different.” He shook his head in irritation. “I know when you’re leaving and when you’ll be back. This morning there were people everywhere, eyes everywhere! Gods bless you, Cersha, you’re too trusting. You trusted me far too quickly and just today you wandered off with that Night’s Watch cunt-”

“I didn’t wander off with him!”

“What…?” His gaze darted from her left eye to her right as he approached her. “You mean he… followed you?”

“I carry a sword.”

“He followed you?!”

“I carry a sword!”

“And who have you fought with it?”

“Aeron-”

“Earnestly fought with it? That’s right. No-one. You think if that ‘Ser Eltyn’ wasn’t such a soft-cocked flower-picker you’d be able to fight him off? No. You couldn’t.”

“Could you?” She snapped. “With that- that- that pissing limp of yours?!”

He laughed, the fire of fury dancing in his eyes until it cooled as his smile faded.

“Even if I couldn’t,” He leaned in close to her and rested his hand at the side of her neck, his thumb playing on her cheek. “At least you’d have time to run while he killed me.”

She pulled away, suppressing the urge to laugh at the intensity of his words.

“Don’t be so dramatic.”

“Cersha.” She refused to look at him.

“I must hunt, though I’m sure you’ve frightened every grouse from here to Highgarden with your caterwauling.”

“Hunt? We have food enough here, jerky, left-overs-”

“We can save them for the journey, I will go.”

“You can’t-”

“I will!” She turned on him, her own fire now alight in her belly. “You are not my father! Nor my brother, and certainly not my husband, and you will not prevail upon me to bend to your will. This is the last time you will raise your voice to me. Now, I will hunt, and I will return when I like.”

Cersha blistered through the wood, caring little for the noise she was making until she had covered enough distance from their camp to feel alone. She leaned her forearm lengthwise on the rough bark of an oak and rested her forehead there, breathing the earthy, fungal smell of the forest with wavering breaths. Though she carried only her bow and quiver, she felt as though she were encumbered by a suit of armour as heavy as stone. Suddenly, as if the very tree before her were sucking the strength from her to feed its needy leaves, she crumpled into a heap amongst the roots. There she stayed for quite some time, without tears and without noise, in exhausted contemplation. Her life appeared to her as a whirlpool of sin, debauchery, and betrayal; every broken betrothal, every night spent crawling in and out of windows, every cake stolen from the kitchens, every time her fingers wandered between her legs, it all nauseated her as it never had before. She wished she could curl into the earth to sleep, and let the worms and woodlice eat away her rot until she awoke pure and bone-white.

She barely had the energy to be surprised when she heard a twig snap behind her.

“Go back to the palfreys, Davos.” She mumbled. “Leave me be.”

“Oh boo-hoo.” Came the mocking reply. “Is this… clandestine elopement beginning to burst at the seams?”

It was a voice not tortured by the accents of those who lived north of the Red Fork, nor was it as soft and pastoral and the Brackens, no… it was affected, practised, and with a slight lilt, no doubt acquired from time spent in the North. Westerlander. Ser Eltyn.

She turned her head slightly, her breath catching. She heard his boots crackle on the earth as he stepped closer.

“Yes, the mute half-wit is not so mute, is he? I could hear his grating voice half a mile away.”

“What have you done with him?” She asked softly. It seemed to disgust him.

“Tshh! You speak out of turn when I have a blade pointed to your back? Idiot girl. You disappoint me and disappoint me. You reject my noble offer of help, and now you suck the fun out of the alternative like a leech of morbidity. When I heard you meant to hunt, I had hoped you may actually hunt, so I might hunt you in turn. After all, you made such good time today, and evading me by passing through the wood was a stroke of genius, but… one little fight with dear little Jack- apologies, Davos- and here you sit in self pity and sorrow. Quite pathetic.”

“What do you want from me?”

“Yes, yes, ‘who are you? What do you want from me? Take my silver. Leave my baby unmolested. Blah, blah, blah, blah, blah!’ Stand.” She did not move. “STAND!”

It took all her strength to push up onto her shaking legs and face him. He was deranged. She could see that now. That smile that once seemed so gentle in the daylight was stretched and marred by the shadows of approaching night.

“Why?” She whispered.

His eyes narrowed. Perhaps he had not thought of it. Or perhaps he thought the question asinine.

“A zest… for life.” His tongue ran across the edge of his lip. “To bring ruin is the greatest of pleasures for a libertine. Of course, such experiences are hard to come by in this line of work. One must seize the opportunities as they arrive. A wildling here, a barmaid there, but you… noble born pretender. You are a rare treasure.”

He held a long dagger with a cruelly tapered tip, and as he approached he touched it to the first lace of her bodice, dragging down, down, down along each crossing of string, then back up, over her breast, her throat, until it rested upon her chin. She could hear nothing but the roar of blood in her ears and feel nothing but her pulse. She was weightless, and his voice as it whispered filth into her ear came as if from underwater, distorted and unrecognisable. It was a mercy, she supposed, but she wished, wished, she could scream.

He stepped back, scraping his eyes up and down her frame as if in appreciation of a well butchered hind, hung by the legs while the blood drips into a bucket below. Then, with a flick of the wrist, he cut through the first lace.

It was then, that she seemed to step aside from herself. To stay and experience it seemed futile, so she stood next to herself and watched with detached fascination as her arms flopped this way and that as the cruel hands ripped her dress apart, legs locked and rigid like those of a sleeping horse. It all seemed very methodical, yet frenzied, as if her assailant were ticking off a laundry list of things he needed to do before the fun began. Strip off the dress, stuff something in her mouth, lay out the cloak… wait no, cloak first, stupid! Keep that knife pointed at her, lest she run. Bend her over now. No, on her back! Wait, unbutton your breeches, you dolt-

Something collided with the black brother. Something hard, wild, and screaming, and Cersha snapped back into herself, leaping back to press herself against the oak. At first, as her eyes rolled back into focus, she thought it was a dog. A dog the size of a man, growling, snarling, mauling. But no, it was a man. It was Davos. The pair rolled and rolled on the ground like a beast with two backs, half grey, half black. Wrestling, grunting, struggling, and then still. Stationary, the grey back on top, crouched over and pivoting at the elbow.

In, out, in, out, in, out.

A sharp, wet repetition of sound. And then nothing. He stopped, and rolled to the side, sitting with knees bent and hands held before him, the right dripping red. He stared at it for a moment, eyes like flat, shallow discs, though his creased face was still a mask of fury. Then reached for the dead man’s cloak and wiped at it furiously, rocking back and forth. He wiped again and again, and when Cersha finally disturbed the earth by staggering forward, his face snapped to her as if she had awoken him from some dream.

“They say…” His voice was hoarse, trembling with an anger she had never seen. “…it gets easier after the first.”

He shook his head as he got to his feet, wading through the motion as if his very bones were too heavy to lift. He stumbled to her and pulled her to him and they stood, knotted together as the sun set. Whispering to each other. Whispering nothing that could truly bring comfort. Just one phrase:

Safe. Safe now.

Thanks to my lovelies @aemondslove@disillusioned-phantasma@anaviieiraaa@deepestlovert@flordiakilos @kitty2694 @kpopfanfictionfantacies @sometings @nikkilsworld @gladiatorgladiator @borislava17 @oshun22@spider-stark @marvelenthusiast10 @itsyagirl01 @disillusioned-phantasma @nixtape-foryou @giggles-andkicks @avidsmokers @darlingcharling-blog @writervaul-t for your reblogs and comments! I'm doing it for you guys :)

[rottenpumpkin13]

Sephiroth: quiet midnights, gleaming steel, faint incense smoke, the scrape of a whetstone, books lined perfectly on a bookshelf, cold rain against bare skin, polished black leather, bitter ginger tea at dawn, weighted blankets in winter, sharp ice crystals, scratched classical CDs, weathered angel statues with missing wings, sharpened pencils in neat rows, morning fog over empty streets, delicate frost patterns on windowpanes, steel-gray skies before snow, silent films in empty theaters, cat footprints on documents, mathematical equations, unopened mail, clean sword oil, abandoned chess pieces, mint tea leaves.

Genesis: spilled red wine on white papers, chipped maroon nail polish on piano keys, gold bangles clinking against wine glasses, vintage vinyl at dusk, steaming mulled cider with cinnamon sticks, smudged eyeliner after theater rehearsals, leather-bound books with gilded edges, dark chocolate with sea salt breaking under his teeth, dog-eared poetry collections, playing cards scattered across silk sheets, cherry candy staining his tongue red, cologne bottles on antique vanities, melted red candle wax on love letters, fresh ink bleeding through parchment, caramelized apple pie, packed jazz bars at 2am, velvet curtains, stage makeup, worn dance shoes, red leather gloves, theater tickets.

Angeal: petrichor on summer mornings, fresh ground coffee beans, sunrise training sessions, polaroid cameras with worn straps, mismatched lucky keychains, pencil sketches in margins, old photos in cracked leather wallets, soup simmering on stovetops, buzzing radio stations between cities, dappled sunlight through garden leaves, evening cicada songs, autumn leaves crushed underfoot, soft worn flannel shirts, pressed flowers, acoustic guitars, wrinkled maps with coffee stains, soil under fingernails, homemade bread, herb gardens, worn pottery, recipe books, wooden spoons, patched jeans, morning dew, pocket knives.

AGS: loud laughter, discarded pizza boxes, arguments dissolving into jokes, snorted milk, tangled legs under a blanket, whispers in a packed room, empty mugs littered around a table, quiet yawns, bitten apples, ring tones, a half-finished puzzle scattered across the floor, a messy kitchen, heads on each other's shoulders, rock-paper-scissors, scattered dice, sour candy, bumping elbows, the glow of a tv screen, borrowed hoodies, stolen phone chargers, dirty dishes, arms around shoulders, inside jokes.

[mannytoodope]

Farrokh Bulsara (5 September 1946 – 24 November 1991), known professionally as Freddie Mercury, was a singer, songwriter, and record producer best known as the lead vocalist of the rock band Queen. He is known for his excellent four-octave vocal range and flamboyant persona on stage. Mercury wrote several hit songs for Queen, including “Bohemian Rhapsody,” “ Killer Queen, “Don’t Stop Me Now,” and” We Are the Champions.” He frequently collaborated with David Bowie and other artists. When he embarked on a solo career, he served as a producer and guest musician for other artists. He was posthumously awarded the Brit Award for Outstanding Contribution to British Music in 1992, and they held a tribute concert at Wembley Stadium. In 2001, he was inducted into the Rock and Roll Hall of Fame as a member of Queen. He was inducted into the Songwriters Hall of Fame in 2003 and the UK Hall of Fame the following year. Freddie’s stage presence as a lead vocalist was extraordinary. He felt the music and never seemed to “ phone it in.” He is what a lead singer should or can be. He has left an impressive mark in a rock music family; peers and fans miss him.

[morethansalad]

Mini Blinis with Smoked Tomato (Vegan)

[sorrowsofsilence]

G E M I N I ⊹ ࣪ ˖

Pairings: Noah Sebastian!Davis Twins x ofc!Jude (really just a name, no description)

Words: 4.4k

Warnings: smut 18+ (threesome, fem!receiving, male!receiving, PnV pls wrap it b4 u tap it), twins (no twincest here, just both involved with 1 person), alcohol/weed use.

Summary: Why bother choosing, when both Davis twins are an option?

Authors note: I edited the pics above and below, feel free to use w/credit if you'd like! :) also this whole Davis twins idea was inspired by the martial art twins @thefallennightmare mentioned 🤭 (also, songs are Gemini by Del Water Gap, and Gemini by N i G H T S)

PS. THIS IS A FANFIC ABOUT REAL PEOPLE IN FICTIONAL SCENARIOS. I AM NOT IMPLYING THIS IS HOW THESE PEOPLE ARE IRL OR THAT THIS SITUATION WOULD HAPPEN. IT IS FOR FANFIC PURPOSES ONLY!

**

Identical twins; yet both are polar opposites.

Noah Davis; guitar/bass playing skater boy: Sweet, warm, delicate. The smell of milk and honey. The epitome of the sun’s warmth as I rest in the passenger seat of a car.

Sebastian Davis; party boy singer: charismatic, mysterious, unpredictable. The smell of petrichor and cologne. The epitome of my body hanging out the car window, wind running freely through my hair.

Perhaps it was fate I met them, the deities pulling the strings and leading me straight into chaos- or maybe it was just a strange coincidence.

A victim of chance.

“C’mon let’s get another shot.” Niamh’s voice was distant as she snaked far from my grasp through the crowd. As I was sucked further into the sea of people trying to catch up I couldn’t help but audibly groan. The smell of alcohol and sweat lingered in the air, my nose scrunching in distaste. I wasn’t nearly drunk enough for this scene yet.

Mumbling a string of sorry’s I pushed past various people, squeezing between bodies before finally reaching the counter, my best friend already downing two shots and asking the bartender for another.

I placed a hand on her shoulder and pulled her toward me, shaking my head, “Girl, you’re going to regret that once it hits.”

The blonde laughed, leaning into me as she smiled at the bartender, pointing a thumb in my direction, “Two more please, tequila. For her.”

With a smile, I put my head on hers, “You got me there, my weakness.”

“Tequila?”

A new voice in my ear made me jump, turning quickly with a hand over my heart.

“Jesus-” I laughed nervously once I made eye contact with a grinning brunette, his long hair cascading down his face in delicate layers. The strobe lights danced off his features, highlighting his pointed nose and distinct jawline. He was stunning, my heart pointing from the jumpscare and his presence.

“That’s your weakness?” His voice was faint from the blaring music as he towered over me to hand the bartender a bill, “Two for me as well.”

I stared at his tanktop, the 1975 logo faded through various washes and uses, paired with a set of black skinny jeans with two holes in the knee. My eyes began grazing over his arms and neck, as he was adorned with tattoos. I tried to hide the warmth that rose to my cheeks.

The bartender slid the glasses over the counter I reached for one, “I am a fan of some blanco.”

An inked hand reached out as well, the long-haired brunette smiling down at me as he held the alcohol toward me, asking for cheers.

Our glasses touched before we tapped them simultaneously on the wooden counter before I tilted my head back, the smooth liquor running down my throat.

The boy leaned into my ear again, yelling over the music, “I’ve never seen you around before,” taking the empty cup from my hand he gave it to the bartender, “What’s a gorgeous girl like you doing in a place like this?”

I laughed as we both grabbed another, following the same ritual before I stuck the lime between my lips, the sour citrus tangy against my tongue, “Do you tell all the girls that?”

Looking over at Niamh she grinned ear to ear, eyes flicking between me and the stranger, “Well, I need to pee so, I’ll see you in a bit.”

That was her code for ‘I’m giving you space to talk to him’.

I shook my head quickly in protest, grabbing her arm but she slipped away quickly, leaving me behind at the counter.

“Nah, no one has been worth complimenting quite like you,” he admitted, turning to lean his back and elbows on the wood as he watched the dancing crowd.

I followed, turning to eye the swaying bodies as the bass shook my chest, feet vibrating against the floor, “Could just be the alcohol talking.”

I watched him chew the inside of his cheek, trying to hide his grin. He bent down again, warm breath fanning over my ear, “Then the alcohol speaks the absolute truth. You’re stunning.”

As my ears warmed I stood on my toes, leaning up to him to respond, “What’s your name, pretty boy?”

The way his lips spread into a cheeky smile made my heart pound, the red that tinted his nose barely visible due to the lack of light in the club, “Noah.”

Noah.

I held my hand out, “nice to meet you, Noah.”

His hand wrapped around mine and I couldn’t help but look down at the flower inked on the top alluring. His fingers were bare, but his grip was strong as he pulled me toward him.

“Pleasure is mine…”

“Jude,” I nodded, tucking my hair behind my ear in habit.

Noah chewed on his cheek again, watching me briefly before looking back at the bartender.

“I think we need another round, don’t you, Jude?”

Nodding, we took two more shots before Noah grabbed my wrist, tugging me into the crowd. I followed, letting him take me with him in drunken ambition, the music deafening and the lights blinding.

As we joined the group of swaying bodies my limbs heated as the world became fuzzy, my drunken state beginning to take over. His slim features made my stomach swirl with butterflies, the deep ocher eyes that tried to focus on mine captivating.

“You’re so cute,” I yelled, holding onto Noah’s shirt as his hands nervously touched my waist, afraid to go lower than my hips.

Perhaps he could help me forget.

Perhaps I could let go, just for one night.

“Really?” he smiled, his eyes joining in his expression as we moved in sync, the music leading our bodies naturally.

I nodded with the beat, limbs loose as I closed my eyes, hands reaching up to clasp behind Noah’s neck.

He lowered his body, forehead resting against mine. Gazing into the brunette’s eyes I watched him contemplate for a moment.

As his eyes closed he brushed his lips against my own, a test of my reaction and I bit back a smile, pushing upwards to copy him, the delicate skin warm and inviting.

Before Noah could react I pulled back gently, letting my hands slide down his arms, lingering at his fingertips as I stepped away, “I think I need another drink, care for something?”

He hid his disappointment with a slight grin and a nod before I moved toward the bar once again.

Something about Noah was immensely warm and inviting. I’ve known him all of fifteen minutes and I already want to run off into the forest to live in a cabin with him, reading books while he played with our shared labrador retriever.

I let my middle finger run over my lips in excitement as I grabbed us a rum and coke, turning around to head back into the crowd.

“Jude!” I turned my head to the vague of my name. Niamh was waving in the distance near the washrooms.

I walked toward her as she danced, mouth making playful kissy faces in my direction.

“OOh! Where’s the hottie?” She looked past me before holding her mouth open happily at my drink, reaching for it.

“This is for Noah,” I laughed, pulling it away from the blonde.

“No-Wuh,” Niamh slurred, continuing to dance even though the music was far quieter over here. Joining in my body swayed as I turned, looking down the hall toward the washrooms.

Once my eyes met his my heart stopped, just as if time slowed. My brows furrowed in confusion as my ears rang, my mind racing.

I stopped dancing as the short-haired brunette tilted his head to watch me, eyes trailing across my body suggestively.

Closing my eyes I shook my head before opening them again, the man leaning against the wall still there. Real.

I stood completely dumbfounded until my legs carried me down the hall toward him. Music dampened behind me, and Niamh didn’t call as she ran off onto the dance floor.

“You look like you’ve seen a ghost,” He said, his voice eerily similar.

“I-” I began, squinting up at him, completely fixated on his features. He chuckled lowly as if he found my reaction humorous.

He looked just like him, yet not at all. His face was slightly wider, and the black t-shirt he wore was filled into his muscular frame, tight around his tattoos; tattoos that I’d seen before. The dark grey sweatpants he wore hung loosely at his hips, the white Nike’s resting on the wall he leaned on.

Hit attitude though? It was completely different.

“I was getting a drink…” The pathetic laugh that escaped my mouth made me shake my head again as I stared at him, not even hiding my fascination, “For you…”

“Couldn’t have been me,” He said, reaching into his pocket and pulling out a vape pen. Clicking the button he held it, bringing it to his lips and sucking, “I don’t drink.”

I blinked, watching as he blew the puff of smoke in my direction, the faint weed smell dissipating within seconds. His eyes were hooded as they flicked between me and the beverage.

“So how do you know my brother?”

Then it clicked. Twins.

I flipped my wrist with the glass in hand, pretending to look at the top of a watch, “hmm…met him about half an hour ago.”

He nodded with a snicker, running a hand through his strands. The brunette locks sat parted in the middle, the ends just past his ears in a messy wave.

He was hypnotizing.

“I’m Sebastian,” he stuck his hand in my direction, a strange sense of deja vu.

Sebastian’s fingers were tattooed, unlike Noah’s; and the callous of his palm touching my own sent shivers along my arm, my face warming for what felt like the hundredth time.

I told him my name, and he hid his smile as he took another puff of his pen, “You free in an hour?”

Taking a sip of my drink, I shrugged, “Depends.”

“On?” He asked, shoving his hands in his pockets.

“Where you wanna take me,” I chugged the liquid, holding Noah’s cup in the air, “I owe your brother a drink.”

Sebastian’s lips tugged into a sly smile as he looked down at his shoes, “I’ll see you around, Jude.”

₊⊹

��They’re playing a gig at the place next door,” I said to Niamh in the bathroom. Flicking my hair around I tucked one side behind my ear, taking a deep breath. Twins. Two extremely hot twins.

My reflection swayed in the mirror as the room wobbled with me. Leaning over the counter I stared at myself, wiping away the fallen mascara underneath my eyes.

Niamh adjusted her top, turning in the mirror to check her outfit, “Rockstars! And they’re Twins! This is so exciting J, maybe you can finally forget Dakotah-”

She covered her mouth with a shocked hand, eyes wide before her lids sunk shamefully, “I’m sorry. He who shall not be named.”

I gave her an empathetic look, “No stress Niv.”

She rested a forehead on my shoulder in defeat, “My own rule broken. SMH.”

I laughed, pushing her off me gently as I entwined our arms, pulling her out of the bathroom, “You could just, you know, shake your head instead.”

The grumble that left her throat made me chuckle again as we exited the club, the outside air fresh and free from the clasp of hormones we left behind.

“So they’re in a band? These twins?” Niamh asked as we stood outside for a moment longer, soaking in the cool breeze that caused my skin to crawl.

“Called Gemini, or something,” I said, folding my arms.

Gemini.

Once I saw them on stage together, I was completely infatuated.

“So here's the setting, we met fucked up at a wedding Shoulders back, throwing her hair, yeah She said, "It hasn't been pretty, stuck in a walk-up in Philly Ain't exactly feel like Paris, yeah"

Noah held a white bass in front of him as he rocked back and forth on stage, slim fingers picking at the strings. He smiled once he met my gaze in the crowd, and his lip fell between his teeth. The brunette threw his head forward, his long shaggy cut falling across his features like a veil.

“And she don't understand I get so distant And it ain't any comfort to know that she's sufferin' too And nothing she can write me makes a difference And it's all in my head but I wanna believe she'll be mine in a year, maybe two”

Sebastian held the mic between his inked hands, the stand placed between his legs as he moved to the melody. His eyes were closed in concentration before opening to mine, glazed with temptation. I moved to the music, enthralled by the thrill of both boys playing for an entire audience, yet both watching me as if their lives depended on it.

“I'll drop her a line when I'm feelin' like myself again 'Cause lately I ain't in the mood to pretend Gemini, when I'm feelin' like myself again Maybe I could be more than just a friend”

Ever since then they had consumed me, my mind captive to the thoughts of Noah and Sebastian for countless days, replaying how both of them devoured me with their eyes the second we met.

What was wrong with me?

Noah gave me his number after the show, his twin lingering in the background, eyes shifting between us and the ground.

A few days later he invited me over to their apartment, and I secretly hoped Sebastian would be there too.

I picked at my sleeves, the hoodie I wore suddenly feeling way too hot. As I hesitated to knock, the front door opened right before my knuckles touched the wood.

“What’s up Beautiful?” His facial hair had grown slightly, scruffy yet perfect. The beanie he wore left his hair flicking out from underneath, and the t-shirt he wore was baggy against his slim frame.

“Hey,” I gave him a warm smile, chest fluttering at the compliment. Stepping foot into their home, it smelled inviting, lemongrass verbena strong in the air.

Noah wrapped his arms around me, pulling me into his chest with ease. As I felt his heart pounding below the fabric, my own began matching its pace.

There was no doubt I was falling for him, his mere presence made me giddy, filling with butterflies and elation.

“Want to watch a movie?”

The blankets scattered across the pull-out couch, and the two of us fell into the sheets comfortably.

The sound of the movie playing in the background was stagnant and monotonous, my focus on Noah’s hand as his fingers trailed down the skin of my waist, gripping the dip of my torso when he pulled me closer to his body, engulfed into his kiss.

His lips moved with mine slowly, the taste of mint subtle as his free hand caressing my cheek in a dance of devotion. The brunette’s long hair tickled my face as we lay there in each other’s embrace, longingly craving one another’s touch.

Our limbs entwined, legs wrapped around one another as I told him the silent story of my soul, his hands roaming down my thigh, pulling it up to his hip; as if I wasn’t close enough.

Sweet, warm, delicate.

The smell of milk and honey. The epitome of the sun’s warmth as I rest in the passenger seat of a car.

He was everything I wanted; everything I dreamed of.

Noah pulled away from our reverie, smiling as our noses brushed together, “Hungry?”

I nodded, my hands balling his shirt in my fists as I kissed him again, my lips tingling in adoration.

A chuckle vibrated from his chest as he pulled away again, fingernails reaching up my sweater, dragging across my skin lightly.

“Me too” He sucked in a breath, squeezing my side, “But I meant for pizza. I haven’t eaten all day.”

Noah left to pick up dinner, leaving me smiling as I sat on the couch, waiting for him to return.

As soon as the front door closed, a creak sounded from behind.

“Told you I’d see you around,” The voice was titillating as I whipped around, chest pounding with anxiety at his sudden appearance.

Did know what Noah and I were doing? Was he watching this whole time?

His hair messily hung from his forehead as he tucked his hands in his hoodie pocket, turning on his heel as he then led us up the stairs.

I felt my abdomen clench as he revealed his bedroom, the red LEDs intimidating. He sat on a chair in front of his computer, beckoning me over.

“Are you coming to the show on Friday?” Sebastian asked, clicking around a few files as he spoke.

Shaking my head I carefully watched him and he hummed in disappointment, “Shame, you’d think that Noah would’ve told you about it.”

“I can come if you want me to,” I shrugged and he reached for my wrist.

Sebastian tugged me down onto his lap, and I immediately tried to hide my face in my hands.

This felt wrong.

He handed me a set of headphones, clicking around on the computer, “I want your opinion on whether we perform this or not.”

He clicked on the file named Gemini, and the trap beat left my head nodding lightly. This already sounded completely different from the song I heard them play a few nights ago.

“Pick apart everything about ya Lying to me like a Gemini does Late at night makes me wanna sigh, yeah Dive into you every single night, yeah Every time it makes me wanna die, yeah Fucked you in the moment for the hype, yeah”

Holding the headphones against my ears I listened, watching the lyrics pop up on the screen. Sebastian’s hands held my hips firmly against his lap, making sure I was completely still.

My breath hitched once his hands slid down my thighs, running back up to my hips as the song went on.

“Love the way you taste, I'm fucking balling Making other plans I'm involved in Preying on your fears just like a lycan Hunting pussy everything single night, yeah”

I swallowed harshly reading the screen, and the way Sebastian revered my body made my stomach swirl.

“Love the way you miss me, make it rough, yeah Lust only pops in mysterious ways Sleepover, don't get invested Fall in love and then I pay her rent, yeah”

This was wrong.

But I didn’t want it to stop.

“Why are you showing me this?” I asked, his hands stopping on my inner thigh, my eyes watching him tease me.

“I haven’t stopped thinking about you. You’re fucking divine.”

I was silent momentarily, unsure what to say at his confession. Noah made my heart flutter…but Sebastian made it race, “You don’t even know me.”

“Then I’d love to get to know your body's taste if you’d let me.”

Sebastian tugged at my pants, motioning for me to turn around and face him, to straddle his waist.

As I sat above him on his gaming chair he watched me from below, face subtle, afraid to give anything away. Yet pupils dilated in complete desire, exposing the short-haired brunette as his arms wrapped around my back, pulling me into a haste kiss.

His mouth was warm and rough, fingers clawing at my shirt in desperation as his tongue flicked my lower lip, translating unto me with greed.

His hands burned my skin, heat radiating off every inch of my body. Charismatic, mysterious, unpredictable.

The smell of petrichor and cologne.

The epitome of my body hanging out the car window, wind running freely through my hair.

He was everything I desired, everything I needed.

“This is bold of you considering I was here with your brother.”

Yet I completely gave in, my hands taking over for my heart and gripping his hair.

“I need you, Jude. Now.”

I let my hips roll into his, bodies rocking together for seconds; until the front door opened and Noah called out my name.

This game went on for months.

Both boys consumed me, both knowing that I was with the other.

They didn’t care- not until the hunger for both was no longer satiated.

I wanted each of them at once.

And they wanted me to choose.

“Selfish, to want us both,” Sebastian sunk in his chair, spinning back and forth slowly, a form of distraction.

Noah sat on his brother’s bed, watching me as I stood in the doorway, “You’re not going to choose, are you?”

The short-haired brunette chuckled lowly, hiding his suggestive smile, “Can’t just pick one.”

I looked between them, face warming, “You both want me.”

The twins looked at each other momentarily, almost as if communicating telepathically. Noah nodded.

“Tell us,” He tucked his hair behind his ears, looking up at me, “Tell us you want us. Both.”

“Say it,” Sebastian chimed in, his eyes menacing as he stared, determined to hear my admission.

“I- need you both.”

I’ve slept with each of them before, the contrast between the two night and day.

Noah whispered sweet words, taking me against every surface he could find as if claiming me for his own. He made me his, etching his being into my skin with every praise, every nickname.

Sebastian’s gaze held a million words, words he could never say; but with each thrust held my neck, pounding into my body with such proclamation and force that he told me his story. He shared his secrets.

They were the exact opposite of one another, but when put together, they made me whole.

“I want to be both of yours,” I whispered, Noah’s tongue buried between my legs as he sucked my skin, periodically licking long stripes along my arousal.

My breathing turned jagged as Sebastian kneeled on the side of the bed, kissing up my neck as his hands gripped my chest, worshiping my body with his fingertips. He dragged his mouth down to my collarbone, biting at the skin.

A moan left my body as I let my hand grip Noah’s hair, tugging him toward me as I rutted my hips against his tongue desperately.

I grabbed Sebastian’s arm, whispering toward him, “I want your cock in my mouth.”

He loved being wanted. He desired to be needed.

Sebastian stood up, rubbing his hand along his arousal over his sweatpants. Taking mine he placed it on top, sighing at the contact.

“Feel this?” With his hand on mine, he moved me along his erection slowly, “All for you baby girl.”

“Pretty boy,” I whispered, tugging at his pants. He freed himself, looking down at me with hooded lids and smiling at the praise.

Sticking out my tongue he slapped it with his desire, then let me wrap my lips around him. I sucked, swirling saliva around the tip; just as I learned he liked.

It started slow, with me moving my head along Sebastian as Noah ate me out, making my legs shake and squeeze around his face as I reached the edge, orgasm taking over my nerves.

Sebastian then leaned over the bed, free hand gripping my hair to hold me in place, shoving his cock down my throat with slow thrusts.

“Fuck, just like that baby.”

I gagged on him, taking his offering as Noah pulled his mouth away, kissing up my stomach delicately.

I watched him as his twin filled my mouth, feeling dirty and lascivious as Noah placed himself at my core, running his erection through my folds.

My brows furrowed as I bucked my hips toward him in greed and he shook his head, holding my abdomen down with a firm hand.

Noah’s hair hung over his face as he watched himself tease me, rubbing along my desire, “Hmm, you’re not very patient, are you?”

His words made me moan in protest, leaving Sebastian to groan from the vibration.

I cried, mouth sliding off of Sebastian as he reached down to rub my clit while Noah thrust into me with haste, his hips rapidly rolling.

Noah’s grip around my ankles tightened as he held me for support, flicking between our story and my eyes, smiling at me, “This what you wanted princess? Both of us at the same time?”

I squeezed my eyes shut in reverence as my body shook with every thrust, nodding.

“That’s our good girl, ”Noah groaned, tilting his head back before pulling out, switching places with his brother.

Sebastian then flipped me over, pulling me by my hips to slide my ass into the air, exposing me.

“Oh, fuck,” He whispered, bending down to lick up my body in hunger, before plunging into me.

With one hand he held my thigh, the other pushing my head into the bed. Each thrust sent a wave of pleasure through my body. His slow and staggered rhythm left my body clenching around him, crying with each connection his hips made to mine.

Noah slid onto the bed underneath me, abdomen by my mouth as he lowered my lips onto his body. As he leaned back into the pillows, the taste of us lingering along his cock made my stomach churn with adoration. Gripping the base and licking along his skin I groaned, Sebastian’s powerful grip enthralling, pushing a second orgasm.

“Shit,” Noah’s hand was gentle as he guided my mouth, soft pants leaving him as he twitched, his release coating my throat.

I swallowed everything he offered, afraid to waste a single drop.

His chest he smiled, hand reaching down to hold my face.

Noah’s thumb caressed my bottom lip with approval, and he bent down to kiss my forehead.

My body rocked with Sebastian as he clawed down my back, Noah sliding beneath me again to kiss me, mouth open and tongues pressing against one another.

“Your pussy feels so fucking good,” Sebastian growled, his pace quickening as nails dug into my hips. A string of curses escaped him as he reached his orgasm, releasing inside of me.

I was his. I was Noah’s. I was theirs.

And they were mine.

“We could fuck you all day long,” Noah smiled, ghosting his lips across mine in prayer.

The room was filled with heavy pants as I moved to lay beneath Noah’s arm. Sebastian joined, resting his head on my stomach, wrapping his arm across my waist protectively.

“Who’s saying that can’t happen?” I suggested, and Sebastian’s deep laugh made me squeeze my legs together, his hand trailing back down my thighs in temptation.

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