#i just kept listening and writing to it

[dookins]

I know a lot of my music recs don't get a lot of love, but if you ever wanna chill, or listen to what a dream sounds like, check out this

地面は暑い (The Ground is Hot)

For anyone who wants to know more about how it sounds without listening to it, here's some insane rambling:

It has an immensely slow build, but it feels natural. And as it progresses, it's like you're searching the echoing halls of some long lost memory that becomes a bit sharper more and more. Until about 7min and 30 seconds in, you remember what it is you're supposed to be looking for. So you take your time, no longer concerned. You've been patient this long, so you take in the contrasting heat of hot sand and cold air to bask in the mixture for a moment. But 10 minutes and 45 seconds in, you hear it. What you've been looking for. And it's calling out to you, so close, but the echoes are so vast... Slowly you go from chamber to empty chamber trying to find the source. It sounds like its getting closer, but it doesn't appear. And it's strange. How can a voice that sounds so far away sound so comforting? You keep searching and listening simultaneously. Until eventually 17 minutes in it feels like you're right on top of the voice, but still can't see it. It's still saying comforting things, but you're concerned. What does this mean? It's dark... but it's still trying to sound so encouraging. And after you deliberate with yourself, you decide to trust them. 19 minutes in, you come across an endless room of placid darkness filled with still water that goes on forever. And you can see something out in the center of the water. The owner of that voice. You don't know them. But at the same time you know them so intimately it's almost frightening. They're standing on top of the water's surface and causing faint ripples to echo along with their voice across eternity. You try to step out, but the water is immensely deep. There's no way to reach them. But they still see you. And they smile. And continue to sing for you.

You both cry. You don't understand why they can't move closer, or why you can't you swim out to them, you're so close it hurts. But it's that strange, unspoken logic that only a dream can fathom. It dictates it so. But you've trusted the voice this far... so you take a deep breath, and try to actually absorb the words of their song. And you do. Despite the tears that spill over both your eyes and this person you 'know' so well, the tears cause their own ripples on the mirror like plane of the water. They cross the surface until they connect at a point in the middle, bouncing and merging as one. They give you one last smile before wavering much like water itself and disappear. Like a mirage in the desert. The darkness of the room slowly gives way and disappears as well. This house of memory.... is gone. And you're outside again. Beneath the night sky, and the desert sand cradling your feet. Was it real? Does it matter? The emotions were. And that's something. And ultimately, you feel peace.

[just-french-me-up]

#48 for the ask prompts! ❤️

N°8 : A kiss out of habit

Now buckle up for a Dreamling Green Knight AU ! I had to fist fight myself not to go overboard with this!

It had caught Hob off guard, on the first day. The lady of the castle giving him a kiss had had him dread the return of her lord husband, for they had agreed to exchange the day's earnings, and what else had there been to trade, but the kiss he had been given?

The lord had accepted it, stoic against Hob's trembling lips. In return, Hob had been given a story, a tale of the lord's invention that day. His mind worked beautifully, and Hob had watched his lips as they gave life to unearthly tales, drinking each word in like sweet wine.

On the second day, the lady's kisses had gone from surprising to intriguing. Hob had passed them on that very evening, the lord's scent now familiar as their noses had brushed together, trading breath for breath. The lord had been less stoic then. Hob could remember the knock of his heart against his chest as the lord had pressed his lips to his, opening Hob's mouth into something beyond transactional. Less chaste.

Hob had paid little attention to the lord's tale, that night. He had pretended to, of course, nodding his head, interjecting here or there, but his attention had wandered elsewhere. In the sharp line of his host's jaw. In the pale shade of his eyes, where the flames of the fireplace seemed to burn brighter still. He had itched to kiss him again, feel that fervor again. Patience. They had agreed on three nights, hadn't they?

On the third day, the lady's kisses had become a habit. Hob had expected them. Hoped for them. The poor woman's advances remained unanswered, Hob politely refusing anything further. All he could think about was the evening, when the lord would find him and ask for his earnings.

But the lord was late.

Night had fallen, dinner had been served, eaten, plates taken away, and there was no sign of the lord of the castle.

When the hour had become unreasonable, Hob retired to his bedchamber, pacing the fine floors. The morning would see him leave his hosts' care, for he had agreed to meet the Green Knight at the green chapel. He would die then, he was sure of it. A blow for a blow. He would die without having given the lord his due. How could he bear it?

Someone knocked on the door. Startled, Hob approached it, apprehension and hope both tugging at his stomach. Could it be the lord? Or his wife, seeking him out to attempt to seduce him once more, in her husband's absence?

Standing at the threshold was his host, his black hair slightly damp. His clothes were perfectly dry, but Hob noticed the mud on his shoes. He must have come here straight away, he told himself, far from indifferent to the implications.

"Apologies," the lord said. "My duties have kept me away longer than I realised."

"I thought so," Hob lied.

"I could send for a servant to rekindle the fire in the hall, so we may trade there."

"The household has gone to bed," Hob countered smoothly, keen on the idea of them there, alone. "Let us not disturb them. Perhaps we may conduct our trade here?"

He stepped back, showing the inside of his chambers. The lord seemed to hesitate, but eventually agreed to follow Hob in, closing the door behind them. There they stood. Alone. Hob swallowed hard, suddenly aware of how close they were. They had stood close before, as one must when kissing another, but this felt... intimate. Illicit, almost, in the most intoxicating way.

"Well?" the lord asked. "What have you earned today, Ser Gadling?"

Without a word, Hob inched closer, his hands behind his back. The lord did not flinch at he leant forward, meeting his lips in a slow embrace. They came apart in a soft sigh, the lord's eyes fluttering open as Hob leant back.

"What else?" his host asked, almost as a challenge.

The second kiss was more daring, earning Hob a few more sighs. He held the lord's chin as his tongue brushed his, hunger pooling at the pit of his stomach, but he stopped himself, pulling back. The man was flushed now, his back almost to the door. Hob could not say he disliked the sight. If anything, it called to him, wild thoughts sprouting in his mind of how else he'd like to see this lord, pretty pink mouth and all.

"Is this how this earning was given to you?" the man whispered. He did not sound angry. He didn't even sound curious, really. Only wanting.

"No," Hob's thumb trailed from his chin to his lower lip, tracing the plump, glistening flesh there, hot breath blowing in his skin, threatening to undo him. "This is how you shape it."

"This was not in the rules," the lord pointed out, though he did not move. If anything, Hob could have sworn he was closer. "Is this all?"

"Not quite."

The third kiss was ravenous, Hob pouring his longing and desires into the embrace, pushing the lord against the door until their bodies were entwined, hands grasping for more, pulling fabric as though to meld them together. They were both out of breath by the time they pulled back, lips inches apart.

"I must be gone in the morning," Hob rasped. "I fear I won't come back. I shall meet my end there."

The lord observed him, almost intrigued.

"Stay," Hob asked, on the verge of begging.

"The trade―"

"Tell me your story in the morning, before dawn. Close the trade then. Stay."

"I can not, for you must receive my end of the bargain tonight."

Hob shook his head, desperate to keep him close.

"Keep it. I do not want it. I want you."

Slowly, the man raised a hand to Hob's hair, cupping the back of his head, and kissed his forehead.

"Have I ever told you my name, Hob?"

Hob stared at him, at a loss. Now that he mentioned it...

"No. You haven't."

"I am Dream, Prince of Stories. Such is the nature of my offering, tonight."

Hob frowned, confused. Prince? His host had always had a regal flair to him, but he could never have imagined...

"Dream? You're offering me a dream? How?"

"It hardly matters."

Dream's hand fell from Hob's hair to his cheek, his caress soft, but clearly meant to break the tension between them.

"Go to bed, Hob Gadling. Close your eyes, give yourself to sleep. I may visit you in more ways that one."

Hob pressed Dream's hand to his cheek, refusing to let go. Such promises could not be. The body against his was flesh and bones, he could feel it. He closed his eyes, trying to burn the touch into his memory, the warmth of his skin. By the time he opened his eyes, the lord was gone, as though he'd vanished into thin air, and he was left cradling his own hand, empty.

Hob stared at the door, dejected. Now that he was alone, what else was there to do but lie in bed, waiting for the morning of his death? How could he sleep, knowing where he was headed? Yet curiosity wormed its way through his despair, making him glance back at the bed waiting for him.

He was to be given a dream. One last dream. And his host had ever been gifted at telling stories. How could he refuse him?

Send me a kissing prompt?

[reddamselette]

valgrace except jason is an international superstar and prodigy in football and leo is known worldwide for his podcast who brings special guests on his shows like piper mclean who’s made a name for herself in historical dramas always in the lead of a warrior, architect annabeth chase who’s been granted the honor of rebuilding the temples and ruins in greece and rome with her olympic swimmer boyfriend percy jackson.

and by popular demand, the public requested jason grace to be on hephaestus’ forge. leo, always the good host, obliges and reaches out to jason.

what the audience doesn’t know is that leo and jason have known eachother for years, running in the same crowd during middle school and high school despite being interested in different things. like all close best friends, they parted ways due to university and internships across the country. but they parted with a kiss goodbye, a promise to one another that held up since they were young.

so when jason finally arrives onto the scene, leo feels everything rush back and now that the season is over, jason plans to stay in new york.

[luminous-orb]

happy 30th (!!) anniversary to what’s become one of my favorite games of all time

[cent-scratchnsniff]

to pass as. to qualify as. to be as. to love as a human being

[trebuchet151]

This is jumping the queue bc some really cool people reblogged my last post of Corey and they escaped containment.

Updated sidestep design perpetual WIP

Sidestep days vs retribution. They're slowly reacquiring their self expression. Next book will probably be the full return of the scene/punk look

Bonus Corey sans most of their clothing to show off their tattoos under the cut. CW for healed SH scars

Yes that is Ortega's bedroom yes I half assed it. I drew this background in my car at work when it was like 110 degrees idgaf

[fanaticmorelikefantastic]

Welcome Home : Hobie x fem!reader

This is my first fic for @the-kr8tor 's Octobie event! I'm really super excited and I hope you like it :D

Synopsis: Everything sucks and then you get cat distribution systemed to Hobie.

Tags: Hobie/reader, Hobie/fem!reader, Reader is from another country, I just assumed she was american, American reader, Supposed to be in the 70's?, Just pretend it's an au if anything sounds funny about it, Hurt/comfort, wee bit of angst, crying in the rain, etc.

Note: I tried my best to write it as a hurt comfort, but I'm not sure if it turned out that way. First snippet of a series of oneshots about an American immigrant reader and Hobie! das it :)

It was a dark, but not very stormy night. London, always a gloomy one, this city was. Not that I’m any better. Through a series of events, I found myself in this here alleyway, looking for answers. Riddle me this; how does one find a man, who is a spider, who is a man? You call me, that’s how. The dame came into my office, just wanted to know who her saviour was, she said. Told me she would hand over a handsome sum of cash if I could find him. Money makes the world go round, after all. Course I agreed, I was tight-strapped this month and something had to pay that rent.

The first step to knowing about the wanted is to know about the wanter. In this case, that would be me. In reality, there was no damsel bursting into a private eye’s office, there wasn’t even a large wad of cash. Just a girl, a masked hero, and a handwritten thank-you note. 

London was nowhere near the pearly and refined city it was advertised to be, especially not in this soot stained, half muddied alleyway. As for why I was found in said alleyway, several days ago, I had gotten into some trouble with some sort of crooked cop, but before anything extraordinarily unsavory could happen, I was saved in one fell swoop by a man in some strange costume. I believe that living out of hotels was taking a toll on my mental state, and living at all was taking a toll on my wallet. So, I figured it wouldn’t hurt to find who he was and thank him. A simple thank-you, that’s all, and maybe I would ask him if he was hiring.

My search took me from one end of the city to another, and eventually into this alleyway. They called him ‘Spider-Man’ or ‘Spider-Punk.’ Strange names, but I’m not too sure what I expected of a man who runs around dressed like such. At some point in my thread of conversations and inquiries, I was led to Camden, then to this very alley. Supposedly, he shows up here often, but apparently not today. That’s fine. It’s okay. I had only started my search because I had nothing better to do; I was just taking a break by doing this. Against my will, this spot made me start to think of… everything. My moving here, my lack of a job, my lack of a  house, that awful place that I had left behind, my dwindling visa, it all seemed like too much; it all was too much. I leaned on a dusty hvac machine, back heavy with worries, listening to the quiet shrills and screams of some not-so-far away concert. The music had deep, billowing bass and a powerful guitar. It was like no other music I had heard before, and it called to me somewhat. Unfortunately, the rotten worms in my head were louder than the music right now. Barely overshadowed by the crackling of my thoughts was a low rumble curling in the clouds above. I sighed when I heard a clap of thunder. The  muffled concert in the distance began to stop playing its heavy and low tones when the mouselike droplets evolved into a storm. I hated the rain. Not all rain, just this rain; this rain that marked the demise of my journey; this rain that reminded me I was only ever stupid and naive; this rain that told me to give up, pack my bags, and go back home; that I should have never left my country in the first place; that was the rain that I despised with all my heart. This wretched rain had gotten on my face. Yes, surely, it was the rain that was ruining the makeup I worked so hard on this morning. It was ripping up that stupid letter of mine and causing me to dig my face into my hands. All of this was blamed on the rain, who was innocent of all save for soaking my hair. 

I stayed like that for a while, next to the smoother gray wall, huddled over, soaked in mostly my own misery. My own waterfalls made the rain feel like a light shower. If nowhere else, I felt allowed in this alley. That I could cry and sob and be angry and scared and cold and nobody would care because they don’t expect to see sane people in an alleyway to begin with. I most certainly do not. The tears and rain that coated my palms made them almost suction to my face, but in the midst of my dolor, I heard a voice from somewhere beside or near me.

“What’s wrong lovie?” My head dragged up from my hands after the sound of a limoncello voice hung itself in the air. After a lousy wipe of my eyes, I was able to properly see the man who cared enough about a stranger’s tears to stop and ask what they cried for. That dingy street lamp flickered its light around him like a halo. It took me a moment to register the man, his dewy chocolate skin and glossy hazelnut eyes. His face was studded with silver stars, and despite his sharp expression, he held a certain softness about him. He held a bright red umbrella, funny, he didn’t look like the type. He was a tall man for certain, craning over so he could cover me. His presence made everything stop for a moment, a still, small, and quiet recognition fell on these two strangers in this back alley of London.

“Who are you calling lovie?” My voice was like a crisp, wobbling paper. I stood up to speak with him, but by the time I was at my full height, my waterworks were, once again, in full swing. He panicked a little, holding his free hand out in the way one would to try and calm a dog you’ve never seen before.

“Woa, woa, what's the matter with you? ‘s  everything alright?” I’m not quite sure what made me do it, maybe I’ve lost my mind since coming to this place, but I stood there and sobbed out everything that happened to me during my time in London. Words, and feelings, and thoughts and actions kept spilling, tumbling, out of my mouth like bricks collapsing through the bottom of a broken forklift. That whole time, he listened, actually, truly listened to the ramblings of a stranger who he’d just met in some shady back alley while it was raining. Once again, I held the feeling that everything about him glowed. 

“Well, have you got any place to stay tonight?” He spoke very softly to me.  

“If I did, I wouldn’t be hanging around here, would I?” I shivered like a wet rat, parts of my hair stuck to the nape of my neck. He laughs through his nose before shrugging off his studded black leather jacket and placing it around my shoulders. The lining was warm. 

“Well, let’s get you washed up. You look a bloody mess.”  He gave my shoulders a light tap.

“Am I bleeding?” I tapped my face a little, checking for anything warm. He gave me a funny look in response.

“Th’ name’s Hobie by the way. Hobie Brown.” I did my best to wipe my face off before telling him my name. I reached out my hand, and he gave it a quick shake.

“It’s nice to meet you.”

“Nice to meet you too.”

I followed him around the streets like a lost puppy, clutching the coat he gave me like it was a lifeline and occasionally looking at his silent face. The pavement we passed on was glossed over with the continuing rain. We passed building after building, some separated, some connected, and others so close they might as well be. I was certainly very close to someone who could, within reason, be mistaken for a building. If I ever began to wander too close to the edge of the umbrella, a steady and gentle hand would kindly guide me back to my spot beside him. We made our way to a canal style river thing in the middle of the city. He pointed my gaze toward a houseboat floating and rolling on the water. It looked like somewhere a retired pirate would live. 

The interior was surprisingly cozy despite its somewhat bare furnishings. Various knicknacks and things nestled themselves in unassuming spots around the place. The moment I set foot in the door, I felt right at home.

“Leave your shoes at the door, ’ll take that too.” Hobie. Hobie waited for me to unlatch my shoes and stand straight before taking his coat from my shoulders. I never noticed him put the umbrella away, but it’s gone, and his shoes are neatly set to the side on a not-so-neat towel. I don’t know what to say as I watch him take my shoes and line them right next to his, so I stand in the doorway and watch him wander out of view then right back in with some dry and clean clothes. He hands them to me with both hands, so that’s the exact way I receive them as I try to unclog my throat for words to flow through. I look back up at his face. He’s waiting so patiently for me to find my words, with that same sternly soft expression.

“Thank you.” The words came out a little too quiet, so I said it again. 

“You’ve been nothing but kind to me, even though we just met and I-” My voice broke again when I started tearing up. 

“Oh no, no, come on, love. You on’t have to cry.” Quickly, He thumbed away my budding tears, his palms warm on my face.

“I know, but I’m just- I’m so grateful, you know?” He did. He knew. I could see it in his shining gray eyes that he knew. If he didn’t, he wouldn’t have waited for me to stop my crying. If he didn’t, he wouldn’t have wiped away every stray tear himself. If he didn’t, he wouldn’t have been so quick to open his home to me. If he didn’t, he would have never lent me that coat of his. If he didn’t, he wouldn’t have handed me these clothes that I’m holding.

Once I got myself together, I was directed to the bathroom. Surprisingly, (according to him), there was warm water to shower with, and I did so happily. When I stepped into the living room I felt like I had on brand new skin. Hobie had the stove on and open while he stirred some milk into a second cup of tea. He turned around before I could even properly enter the kitchenette, as though he already knew that I was there. 

“Feelin’ better yet?” He handed me the cup he was holding with a smile, a deep and pretty blue. I held it and relished in the warmth of the cup from both his hands and the tea. 

“Wasn’t sure if you liked sugar, so I didn’t add any.” I wanted to cry again. He was overwhelming in all the best ways possible, but I had already put him through enough of my tears tonight, so I sucked them back in.

“I don’t” I smiled at him before taking a sip of what could very well be the best tea of my life. 

“If ‘s not uncomfortable, you could stay ‘ere till you get your own base of operation.” He was leaning on the counter, index tracing the edge of his own cup while speaking. Instead of this tea, I wish I could drink the color of his eyes as they’re looking at me. I'm suddenly smiling a lot right now.

"I will, if you'll have me."

[deejadabbles]

Hold On Tight (Tup x Fem!Reader) Spice

Summary: Now that he's back on Coruscant, Tup plans to thoroughly enjoy you, all night if you'll let him.

A.N: Right after I posted this, I realized just how rude it was of me to promise Tup enjoying you, without actually showing it! Please take this full-length filth as my apology 😉 Reader is described as wearing a dress and heels, but no other descriptors are present.

Recommended songs for reading: Freak by Doja Cat and positions by Ariana Grande

This is 18+ Minors DNI!!!!

Warnings for: being complete filth (again), marking, hair pulling, dirty talk, praise kink (both receiving), oral (fem receiving), unprotected P in V, over-stimulation/multiple orgasms, cock-drunk behavior. Just, warnings for Tup being an absolute beast in general.

Your excitement was warming your chest far more than the few drinks you had at the bar, and who could blame you? Not even the friends you were out with minded how you left earlier than usual, not when you had received the message from Tup saying that the Resolute had docked early and that their shore leave was already under way.

Always the gentleman, he had insisted that you could stay out, that he didn't want to take you away from your friends, but you were just too excited to stay for longer than a few more dances. Tup probably got to your place awhile ago and you hoped you hadn't kept him waiting too long.

You knew where he was the moment the door slid open. The light in the refresher was on, casting a glow into the rest of the home, which was dimly lit. That made sense, he was always talking about how much he loved your shower, with actual water instead of the sonic crap they put up with on the war ships. He also loved the better quality of hair products and body wash you kept on hand for him.

The hum of the hairdryer stopped almost as soon as the door closed behind you and before you could get to the bathroom, Tup was stepping out in nothing but a towel, eyes searching for and spotting you in an instant.

"Cyare!" he greeted, that sweet smile spreading across his face.

His arms were already open as you ran to him, throwing yourself into his embrace with a joyful laugh. His strong arms held you tight, as you buried your face in his neck. You were instantly wrapped up in his scent, the smells of warm spices and woodlands, and a content hum left you.

He was home, with you, finally.

"I missed you," he whispered against your ear, just before his lips started peppering kisses over every inch of you he could reach.

"Missed you more," you mumbled into his hair, which was still a little damp.

Tup laughed at the familiar exchange, usually he'd say how that wasn't possible, but he was too busy laying those kisses on you.

"How was your night out?" he asked, and you felt his hand trail down your dress to squeeze your hip.

You let out a little hum, then finally pulled back enough to look at him. "It was nice, we hadn't gone out to dance in awhile, and it was an excuse to wear this." You wiggled your hips a little in his grasp, accentuating just how much it had ridden up your legs.

Now his joyous smile was slipping into a smirk, a knowing one.

"Yeah?" his eyes traveled down your body, enjoying every inch his gaze took in "and how many men hit on you tonight?" his tone was teasing, not at all accusatory. He was far too confident in your relationship for that.

With a smirk of your own, you started playing with the ends of his curls. "A few. Poor things didn't know they never had a chance with me. Most took the hint, but one was annoyingly persistent."

Tup's hand squeezed just a little harder at that, "And what did you say to him?"

With your other hand, you started trailing your fingers across the bare skin of his collar bone, letting your words come out slow, a whisper. "I told him that I don't like boys," your eyes locked with Tup's, just as you licked your lips, "I like men."

A hum that was almost a growl left him as he pulled you flush against his hips, and the towel around his waist hid nothing. He leaned in so his lips brushed the skin just below your ear, "Do you want this man to remind you why?"

"Yes," it came out as a breath, a breath that he caught when he pressed his lips to yours in an open mouthed kiss that was on the verge of desperate.

The two of you were moving in sync, walking backwards to your bed, while never daring to part your needy lips. Maker, you missed the way he tasted, and from the little moans he was letting out, he could say the same of you.

Your senses were wrapped wholly around him, taking in his smell, his taste, now you needed to feel him. Hands trailed down his bare chest, adoring every muscle and scar they ran across. Every bit of it was so, him, so Tup, and you loved everything that was Tup. The moment your fingers hit the towel, they were working at the knot he make to secure it, practically ripping it off his body the second you could, which made him chuckle low in his chest.

It was only when your legs hit the bed, that he finally broke the kiss, urging you to sit with a gentle push on your shoulders. But as soon as you were seated, he knelt before you.

"Been thinking about this all day," he said, tone intimate as he reached down, took your foot and started slipping your heels off with care, "thought about what I wanted to do to you, how I want to take my time," he lifted your leg and pressed a kiss to your ankle, "how I want to savor every inch of you."

Then his the tips of his calloused fingers were brushing their way up the back of your calves, his eyes following their progress with a hunger that made you realize you were already getting wet. His palms lay flat against your skin when he reached your knees, and they kneaded your thighs lovingly until they met the hem of your dress.

Tup got back to his feet then, and made you gasp when he scooped his hands under your ass and lifted you, just enough to pull the dress up. You felt the muscles in his biceps flex as he did it, making you want to swoon in his arms right there.

"I hope you'll wear this for me soon, mesh'la," he said as he started pushing it up your body, letting his hands trail in its wake, "but right now, I need to see you. Need to feel your skin on mine."

The moment the garment was over your head and tossed aside, Tup was on you, lips against yours again as he pressed you back, following you as your body fell to the mattress.

His lips didn't stay there for long, though, and you could feel the subtle shift in his movements as he trailed his mouth down your throat to your collar bone. He was letting his need come out more now, his lips turning more desperate as he started suckling at your skin.

Oh. You knew what he was doing, knew he needed to bring back the little parts of him that faded too soon whenever he left on another campaign. You bit your lip when his teeth came out to play, sinking in just enough to make you moan.

Your hands were reaching above you, grasping for anything as he pressed every bit of his chest to yours, and moved to your shoulder to leave a second reminder of his touch behind.

Finally, your hands just gripped the sheets, right as another sound left you, and he slid up to your neck for a third imprint.

"T-Tup, not there, I-"

"I know, cyare," he breathed, "I wont leave any where your uniform wont cover," a gentle press of his lips to soothe the already sensitive skin, "I don't need to show off, don't need to prove to anyone that you're mine." Another flash of teeth that had you bucking your hips, "Just want you to think of me whenever you see this gorgeous body in the mirror."

You were fairly certain the sheets were going to rip if you gripped them any tighter. His lips, his teeth, his tongue, they were working in perfect harmony against your skin. An almost violent moan left your throat when he bit down yet again, another addition to the marks he left across your shoulder and neck, his marks.

"Love it when you moan like that, mesh'la," Tup whispered against the blooming blemish, hot breath fanning over it like a feather light touch. "Love it when I can mark-" he paused and raised his head a little, eyes on the fingers curled into the sheets.

A soft tut tut noise sounded from his tongue.

"Mesh'la," this time, it was almost a scolding, "you know that's not where your hands belong."

Your throat was so dry as you tried to swallow, his words making the ache between your legs pulse. Just like his marks, you knew what he wanted. Fingers slowly uncurled from the fabric and reached up to him. With loving care you traced his temple, and tucked some stray curls behind his ear.

Tup closed his eyes, humming at the contact with sensual delight.

Slowly, you started threading fingers through his wonderfully soft locks, letting your nails graze his scalp, and relishing the little moan he let out.

The moan turned to a delighted cry when you grabbed the hair and pulled.

"Yes!" Tup's voice almost cracked as his head snapped back, hips jutting forward as if on instinct, and you hated that your panties got in the way of his already hard cock. His grin was wide, wolfish, even, as he looked down at you through half lidded eyes. "That's my girl," he praised, "so good for me, giving me what I like."

That's when he started moving.

Careful to keep your hands in his hair, Tup started at a teasing pace, lips now trailing down your body. Grazing between the valley of your breasts, nipping over your stomach, and kissing across your hips.

He was sinking to his knees again, and pulled you closer to the edge of the bed as he went, effortlessly keeping his lips on your body.

A flash of white teeth met the waistband of your panties, pulled it back, and let it go with a small snap. Then, he was gazing up at you again, that familiar haze of need and adoration darkening his eyes.

"You gonna hold on tight while I enjoy you?" His tone was just as wicked as his eyes, "Gonna use my hair to take what you want from my mouth?"

"Yes! Maker, yes- Tup, please," you couldn't even care how needy you sounded, not when he was looking at you like that, not when he was telling you to abuse his curls in the filthiest ways.

Tup's fingers hooked your panties and began dragging them down, down. "That's my good girl. Don't forget to use your nails too, I love it when I can still feel them on my scalp afterwards."

Your panties were tossed away as carelessly as your dress- then those lips and tongue and teeth were diving into your wet cunt without any other warning.

The loudest moan yet wracked your throat. You were wound up too tight, too lost in the memories of what Tup's mouth could do to you not to cry out in ecstasy. A curse dragged out after the moan when he used his lips to open you up, leaving plenty of room for his tongue to lap between your folds like a treat.

Not forgetting what got him off, you started working your fingers in his hair. A firm tug from you when his lips suckled, a gentle rub when his tongue stroked, a scrape of your nails when he teased your clit.

Suddenly, Tup pulled back just a bit, causing you to whine as his hot breath puffed against your pussy. "Come on, cyare," he growled, "I told you to take what you want, I know you can do better than that."

It was all the direction you needed, with your finger tips digging into his scalp, you pulled him back against you, burying him deep and crying out at the way his nose pressed hard against your clit.

Tup let out a delighted moan at the action, not wasting a second before lapping at you with enthusiasm again. His hands gripped your thighs tight, and you noticed his fingers digging into your flesh in tandem with the way you pulled his hair. The harder, the better.

You were griping the strands in such a tight fist that they might as well have been handles for your pleasure. Emboldened by the way you were holding him hard against you, Tup's tongue shoved forward, dipping inside you like your favorite toy. He got what he wanted when you yanked even harder than before with a scream of bliss.

But it was your turn to praise now, those words he loved to give and receive so much. "Don't know how you're so good to me, Tup," the sentiment fell from your lips in a pant, just as he dove his tongue deeper, "so so good! Love how you eat me up, love how much you enjoy me."

Another moan sounded against your wet folds, making for an interesting mixture that caused a soft giggle to bubble in your chest. The only thing Tup didn't like about eating you whole was that he couldn't give the dirty talk back. And with you pulling his hair to keep him firm against your cunt, he couldn't even take a break to tell you how good you tasted.

Tup was breathing hard through his nose now, gasping against you between more moans. That inkling of worry crept in, worry of suffocating the poor man who never stopped until you came, who joked that making you climax was a mission worth dying for. He wasn't tapping out, though, and the blissful groans he let out said he was more than enjoying himself.

It still wasn't quite enough, though, so with your hands full of his curls, you pulled him up just a little, dragging his nose against your clit in a delicious sensation. He got what you were playing at, and you felt him grin as he started moving up and down in minute nods, rubbing his nose hard while his mouth worked harder.

"Yes! Yes, just like that- oh! Tup, you're so goooood to me!" Your nails were gripping in deep, as if they were anchors to hold your pleasure in place while you chased it and god did you love the sounds he was making: delighting in your delight!

Waves of pleasure rolled through your body with every press of his nose and swipe of his tongue. As much as you loved looking down at him, on his knees and buried between your legs, you couldn't help but squeeze your eyes shut at the euphoria he was causing. Oh- oh! Just a little harder-

You pulled his hair rougher than ever and threw your head back with a scream, rutting against his face as if you were a needy virgin again!

He ate it up like candy, his whole body shuddering as he continued to mouth your pussy.

The aftershock of your orgasm was already sending you, and feeling him still going at it made tears spring to your eyes. With your chest heaving hard, you tried to make sense of the heavenly haze clouding your mind. Tup had taken such good care of you, your first thought was to take care of him in turn.

Your hands started massaging his scalp, tender and soft, a silent thank you, a listless reward. He let out another sound at the caring act, this one long, drawn out, and high pitched; content.

Or, so you thought.

You still hadn't recovered from the waves of coming the first time, but Tup was already on the move. He finally came up for air, rising from his knees and letting your hands fall from his hair to land limp beside your head. Your eyes fluttered open to look up at him with a smile. He returned it, all sweet, seemingly innocent, with his hair in his face as he gripped your thighs.

"I think you're ready, mesh'la," was the only warning you got before he pulled your legs towards him and buried himself inside you fast and deep.

Another throat-rending sound came out of you as he started a merciless pace immediately. He wasn't one to forgo intimacy, though, and ran his hands from your thighs all the way up your body as he leaned down. Stray curls tickled your face as he braced himself on his forearms, caging you, and taking your hands in his.

"That was your first climax, my sweet girl," he whispered, still grinning at you like a love-struck boy, "think I'm gonna try for at least three tonight."

You tried to pant out the number, astonished by his commitment, but the sensation of his cock pumping in and out of you made the word die in the air. Instead, you managed a whimper that might have been 'maker' or 'by the force' or some other ethereal power you only ever prayed to when Tup was taking you like an animal in heat.

"Wanna make you feel so good," he continued, lacing his fingers with yours tenderly, a startling contrast to bruising pace of his hips, "wanna remind you why you wait for me, why I'm the only man who can have you like this."

If there was any part of you that wasn't in the throws of an overstimulated high, you would have told him that this was only part of it. That there was so much more of him to love than his talented mouth and big cock. But right now, all you could pull together was a breathy "love you, Tup," which caused him to crashed his lips against yours again.

His face was still an absolute mess from eating you out, but you only moaned against the contact, his hips never letting up as they drove home hard.

The kiss didn't last long, and when he broke it, he started kissing downward. All the way down to those still sore hickeys at your throat. The way his teeth and lips played on the tender skin, combined with the aching between your legs was too much! You felt it slam into your body like his hips: hard and relentless and so fast it ran you over like a speederbike.

You gripped his hands tight, writhing under him as the orgasm caused the sheen of tears to roll out from the corners of your eyes. And he never stopped. Tup never let the pace of his hips slow, even as he cooed at the sight of you coming undone again.

"Oh, my sweet cyare," he kissed your temple, collecting the stray tears on his lips, "that's two. You're taking me so well, love the way you look like this, gonna make you feel amazing."

You were sure he was pounding your soul right out of your body, because you were only vaguely aware that he moved to the other side of your face, kissing those tears away with care before he leaned back a little. His fingers finally untangled from yours, only to reach down and grip your thighs again. He held them for a few more of those rough thrusts, but clearly had other plans as he lifted them both, moving your body just where he wanted it.

You had to clamp your hand over your mouth to keep in another sobbing moan at the feel of this new angle, his cock going devastatingly deep. Again you were struggling to make sense of anything that wasn't the sensation of him, but you thought you felt him scramble for something above your head.

Next thing you knew those strong arms were lifting your hips again, so he could slide something soft and plush under your back.

Oh, he had grabbed a pillow for you.

"There you go, sweetheart," he said with sugary devotion, "I need you to be comfortable while I make you forget everything that isn't my cock."

Those words alone made you sing for him again, especially with the love sick way he was looking down at you, like he had forgotten everything that wasn't you and your pleasure. The pillow helped, raising you up to better meet his thrusts blow for blow. Despite a part of you begging for the over stimulation to stop, a larger part of you couldn't help but buck into him with every thrust.

You willed your arms to move, to reach up and tangle your fingers in his hair again. He hummed in pleasure when you pulled him down for a sloppy kiss, then he gasped, delighted when you mumbled, "already the only thing I can think about." You sounded drunk, high even, but you didn't care, not when he was like this.

Maker, what had you done to deserve this attentive adonis of a man?

Tup groaned at the lazy way you were kneading his hair and scalp, "Cyare, my beautiful perfect girl, keep doing that- Oh! I'm about to come- come with me cyar'ika!"

He slid his hand between your bodies, keeping his eyes on you as his fingers found your clit. Tup placed his fingertips right above the sensitive spot and pressed, pushing so it met the plunge of his hips.

"Want you to scream," he sounded drunk now, eyes barely keeping from rolling to the back of his head, "want you to scream my name this time, can you do that for me?"

You nodded, not trusting your voice as he took you with shallow desperate thrusts. You could feel it again, the coil tightening, your body pathetically easy to handle in the throws of this much pleasure, and Tup was sure to get what he wanted. Two fingers rubbed right where you loved it, keeping his control there even as he lost it in his hips.

Your body seized up, stilling as it felt another climax creeping in-

"Tight! So tight!"

-and you made sure to dig your nails in again as he gave a stuttering cry above you. That was all he needed, and you felt him fill you, hot and wet, causing your own peak of bliss!

"Tup!"

It was more of a wail than a scream, but he didn't seem to mind as he filled you to the brim, keeping himself balls deep so you had to take it.

His eyes were closed, chest heaving, hair tumbling loose from your grip to fall in his face. The stray curls swayed in front of his lips with every heavy breath he let out, leaving him looking disheveled and delicious.

Then his eyes snapped open, meeting your gaze through the curtain of curls as his wicked grin spread back into place. "That was three, sweetheart," he panted, obviously pleased with himself.

Finally, Tup let himself collapse, scooting both of your bodies a little further up the bed before he fell to your side, curls fanning around him, eyes closed, and breathing still not quite under control.

His hands rubbed up and down your body, wanting to soothe you, needing to feel you. Every inch of you seemed to ache, but you reveled in the feeling, reveled in the phantom sensations of his hands and lips and cock all over your body.

Tentative lips pressed against your shoulder, "I wasn't too rough, was I?" his eyes were still closed, basking in his own bliss even as he tried to make sure you were okay.

"No," you breathed, hands groping for his and when you found them, you brought his fingers to your lips and kissed them, "No, never, Tup. I just- I just need a minute for my soul to come back to my body."

He laughed at that and snuggled closer to your side, "You really know how to compliment a guy, mesh'la."

"Oh, I haven't even gotten started with them, just you wait. When I can make a coherent though, 'm going to give you aallll the praises."

Both of you were quickly dissolving into delirious fits of giggles and laughter, even as Tup gave you another quick kiss, and grabbed your hands.

Maker where did he get all this energy? you thought as he rose up, urging you to follow him. Guess it comes with all those genetic modifications, lucky me.

He lifted you to your feet with that gentle smile of his, "Come on, cyar'ika, lets go take a shower together."

"But you've already taken a shower," you giggled as he pulled you.

There was that teasing look again, the one that crinkled the corners of his eyes. "I did, but I need another one after everything you did to me!"

"Everything I did to you?!" you swatted his shoulder with a laugh.

Just as you passed the door to the fresher, he pulled you closer to him, chuckling as he pressed a kiss to your ear, "I can still feel the mess you made of my face, cyare. So, yeah, what you did to me." Another wet smooch of a kiss, then he turned to the shower.

You hadn't been able to really take him in before, so you hummed at the sight of him naked and bending over to start the water. The dimples right above his ass came out to play, and almost distracted you from the glorious glutes themselves.

Kriff, you weren't really hoping he'd use your still sore body again, were you?

"There we go," Tup said as the water started, then reached back and guided you into the shower, "lets clean you up."

He stepped in after, standing behind you and wrapping his arms around you as the warm water rained down. You let him hold you up, let him run his soothing hand up and down your body, let him clean you up with care.

You didn't even realize you were moaning until he was whispering in your ear again, holding you just a little tighter.

"Keep sounding like that, and I may just try for four, cyar'ika."

I'm just going to tag all the darlings who seemed to like the original post <;3 @blueink-bluesoul @dystopicjumpsuit @sinfulsalutations @corrieguards @spicy-clones @anxiouspineapple99 @littlemissmanga @sunshinesdaydream @commander-sunshine

[shesmore-shoebill]

I half jokingly started writing this for Smosh Girlies Week Day 5: Smoffice and then it very rapidly got out of hand and had some actual emotions and etc sneak into it. So uh. Well. Enjoy a largely-unedited fic of "Angela watches the S&B video for the first time at the creator event, Courtmangela flavored".

Tentatively titled: "Leather and Harnesses". Nothing explicit here! Beyond what was in the music video I guess. I might move this onto ao3 at some point if im brave enough.

*mandatory disclaimer. this is rpf. f for fiction. dead dove. etc etc.

-----------

In retrospect, maybe Angela should've been a little better prepared.

In her defense, there's only so much you can prepare for when it comes to "Your workplace is making a music video about being submissive and breedable and your two coworkers/close friends/people you definitely have regular feelings about are playing dominatrixes in said videos. To your bosses. Who are calling themselves submissive and breedable."

Actually, Angela isn't sure someone SHOULD be prepared for that situation. Even if they have a job that involves sentences like "We need to have a safety meeting about where we're storing the floggers".

That said- maybe there were warnings. Signs. She had some knowledge of knowledge of what the video would entail- the theme of the video wasn't a secret internally, nor was the involvement of the cast. Or their roles. Even if Anthony and Ian didn't love making jokes about being submissive and breedable, Angela certainly wasn't going to forget Amanda and Courtney bounding up to her at 11 AM, full of excitement, crowing "Guess who are the sexy doms of the office!"

No, that moment is absolutely seared into her brain. She remembers the extreme hot flush that came over her body, and she remembers making a vague strangled noise that could, generously, have been interpreted as a "woo!" or a "yay!" in response to the news. and definitely not air punching out of her lungs at the thought.

And she remembers, what she thought was the world showing her mercy that Amanda and Courtney didn't seem to pick up on anything amiss, other than a long pause, with Amanda's gaze lingering a bit on her expression, and Courtney drifting closer, something charged in the air for a long second- before they continued their celebration.

Now, standing in a room full of her peers, slightly tipsy, watching her bosses on a screen chant "Submissive and Breedable", and feeling a mounting sense of dread. Angela is realizing maybe the world wasn't being merciful. It was just biding its time.

And- okay, fine. Angela should've known. She should've been ready. Maybe she'd let herself get lulled into a false sense of security in the last few months as her reminders of the shoot mostly boiled down to Erin griping about logistics during coffee dates, or Amanda or Courtney being busy on certain shoot days.

Smosh tried hard to keep details on this one under wraps, which meant Amanda telling Angela that they "did me all up in leather" (complete with an eyebrow waggle) or Courtney saying they "looked DAMN good in a harness", but not many details beyond that. Which had been fine for Angela, who, at the time, was already going through the full spectrum of human emotion trying to respond normally to this information, potentially failing, and then discarding the interactions from her brain before she could linger on them forever.

(And- fine, maybe she'd been trying hard not to think too much about the shoot because,  more than it being Amanda and Courtney, it was Amanda AND Courtney. And because ever since the shoot, sometimes it felt like they were sitting a little closer than they used to. Like there was a sort of newfound understanding, or something, some kind of bonding experience there.

Where sometimes Angela would look up and they seemed to be gravitating towards each other a little more. Leaning a little closer to each other, or laughing at an inside joke clearly from their time shooting the music video. Little touches.

Nothing big, and it wasn't like- it wasn't like Angela was being left out of anything, technically. Amanda still was her lovely, caring, physically affectionate self, pulling her into warm hugs, leaning against her whenever she was near, as they talked up a storm about anything from the latest Dateline to LA traffic. Courtney still lit up whenever they saw her, immediately sharing gossip and compliments with equal joy, pulling her into selfies and hooking their arms together whenever they wanted to bring her somewhere, or just because.

It wasn't anything big, it was maybe just in Angela's head- the fact that, recently, when it was the three of them sometimes it felt like they were both watching her, that they sometimes giggled together quietly and it made Angela feel. Odd. Maybe it was just Angela, on the days when both of them were out, thinking too hard or too long about the idea of them- both of them- at a "sexy" shoot together, even if sexy shoots were never sexy during the creation process. Maybe it was something about the idea of them, in leather and harnesses, together, getting closer, while Angela-)

Well. Angela had been trying to not think too much about it, was the point.

And now, here, in a room full of Youtubers and coworkers and people she likes and respects, she's going to pay for it.  Angela can't tear her eyes away, as her bosses- her bosses- dance and sing "Submissive and Breedable" and before she can brace herself properly, the song moves into its first verse, and-

Fuck.

Courtney, is onscreen, silhouetted in red, in a harness and tanktop. Courtney with a fake tattoo sleeve and their hair slicked back with chains around her neck and-

Courtney making a beckoning motion with her hand, Courtney throwing Ian onto a bed, Courtney slapping a riding crop on her hand, jesus fucking christ-

The song continues, the background switching to a white room with bbno$ and her bosses dancing in BSDM gear, and honestly, that's fine, because Angela is still trying to remember how to breathe. And think. She knows her jaw is agape right now and she's too busy trying to continue standing upright to care.

She can't decide whether to be glad or horrified that right now, at this moment, none of her friends are around her. Amanda and Courtney, while proud of their work, had both understandably opted out of being in the room during the initial screening, and Chanse, Erin, and Mallory had abandoned Angela for more drinks.

And by now Angela deeply, deeply regrets not joining them. She takes a gulp of her wine, wincing as it burns down her throat, trying to stabilize her breathing and ignore the way her whole body is overheating. Only for Anthony on screen to put on some kind of VR headset, and the background turns purple and Angela nearly swallows her tongue because -

Amanda.

It's Amanda, except Amanda in dark makeup and a dark lip and a high ponytail and- oh fuck, she wasn't kidding about the leather- a form fitting leather dress and harnesses and chains and- she's holding a collar-

-and she has on a choker that says "Mommy"-

(In some distant, distant part of her brain, Angela is glad that the people around her are wolf whistling or ooh-ing or laughing because she's pretty sure she made a noise when she saw the collar and she doesn't think it was a dignified one.

Most of her brainpower, however, is currently dedicated to stopping her knees from giving out under her and not crushing her wine glass under the influx of white hot arousal coursing through her body.)

There's a shot tilted up at Amanda, leather dress skin tight, riding crop in her one hand and makeup and hair and everything flawless. Am i dead. Angela faintly wonders to herself. Am I dead and my hell is me watching my close friends be the hottest thing I've ever seen in a room of professional acquaintances. On screen, Anthony is crawling at Amanda's feet, and- All Angela can think about is that being her. A collar around her neck, and Amanda over her and Courtney with her riding crop and-

Oh god. Oh god.

Something in her brain short circuits at this moment, goes so far into a kind of horny shocked awe that it loops back into a white numbness.

She tears her eyes away from the screen as the music video shifts, thankfully, back to the chorus and the white room and the dancing, and gulps down the rest of her wine, if only to try to stop staring in openmouthed shock. Looking away and staring intently at her cup doesn't help, much, though, because she's pretty sure she's going to have these images emblazoned across the forefront of her brain for the rest of the day. Or life. On loop in her mind, images of tight leather, and harnesses, and jawlines and-

shit. shit. shit. She steals a peek up at the screen, and- something vaguely goofy is happening but also Amanda and Courtney are both there now, still in their getup, still looking- fucking hot as hell, and- Angela averts her gaze again. She knew how she felt about both of them, on some level, okay, but she wasn't. Prepared. For this.

Across the room, Chanse is whooping a little as he watches the screen, new drink in hand. And because he sucks, and she hates him, he seems to feel Angela's gaze, and glances over at her, before a knowing grin spreads across his face.

He's not even saying anything, but she knows he knows. He's one of her best friends, and he's looking at her red face and unsteady stance and her empty cup and she knows, he knows. He's probably known this whole time, and he's silently laughing, now, and Angela's going to kick his ass the moment she's close enough. And remembers how to make her legs work.

Her revenge plot is interrupted by an eruption of clapping and cheers as, apparently, the music video concludes. Somehow, she'd survived. People are cheering and whistling as Anthony and Ian shuffle back towards the center, and Angela is- remembering how to breathe again, mostly.

Only to nearly jump out of her skin, shrieking a little bit as a familiar hand falls on her shoulder. "Enjoy the show?"

"I-" Angela attempts to get her heart rate under control as Amanda grins at her, the colors on her shirt swimming in her vision a bit. "You- well- I."

"I think that's a yes." comes Courtney's voice from over her other shoulder, and, okay, yeah, maybe Angela can just die now, because there's one hand on each of her shoulders and they're on both sides of her, Angela cannot stop thinking about how good they both smell, and-

"-Ang? You there?" and she blinks, and Amanda and Courtney are both in her vision now. Courtney eyeing her with a hint of warm concern, hand still on her shoulder. Amanda is facing away as Ian and Anthony drone on, but with an arm looped through hers, a warm and steady presence. When Angela doesn't immediately respond, Amanda glances back as well, a question in her eyes. Courtney, without saying a word, grasps Angela's hand and gently pulls Angela past the people standing behind her, maneuvering back towards the wall, away from the crowd. Amanda's arm stays looped through hers, shoulder pressed against hers until they come to a stop towards the back.

Once situated, Amanda swaps out Angela's empty cup for a cup of water (when did she even get that) and Courtney pats her arm. "Wow, that bad, huh?" They say jokingly, although there's a hint of vulnerability, there. Amanda reaches a hand out and squeezes Courtney's shoulder, before fixing her gaze back on Angela. "I'm sure it was- a lot..." Amanda trails off, uncharacteristically unsure. Angela, sensing the shift in the air, stumbles over her words.

"It was fucking incredible. You guys looked. Hot as fuck. I- it was. Really- good." She finishes lamely, self consciousness raging back in as she speaks. In the background, whatever speech Ian and Anthony are giving winds down, but Amanda and Courtney's gazes don't waver.

"Yeah?"

Amanda and Courtney exchange another glance, a little warmer this time. but this time, pressed between them, Angela doesn't feel left out of- anything, doesn't feel like she's missing anything, especially as they look back at her, a warm understanding growing between all three of them. She pulls in the arm Amanda is looped through to one side, and squeezes Courtney's hand with the other, pulls them both closer. Something about all of this feels- familiar, and safe, and suddenly Angela can find her words again.

"Yeah. Couldn't stop looking. At either of you. Nearly dropped my drink. You guys weren't kidding about the harnesses or leather, huh? No idea how I stayed standing, honestly."

As Angela talks, Courtney's smile turns a little more wicked, and Amanda's posture smoothes into something more confident and steady.

Spurred on, she bites the bullet.

"I don't suppose either of you got to keep any of those outfits, or anything."

Amanda's smile is blinding, and dangerous, stirring something deep in her core, and Courtney's hand in hers squeezes once, twice, as Amanda says, slowly.

"Oh, for you, I think we can find them again."

[griseldabanks]

Comfyvember 4

Story: clone sister story (original) Prompts: Bed rest — Mug of tea — Soft music

The door creaked open just as Lily's playlist hit “Into the West.” Sticking her bookmark into Eight Cousins and setting it aside, Lily reached over and turned down the volume on her phone until all that could be heard was a faint breathy voice singing, “Sleep now, dream of the ones who came before....”

Moving slowly and with painstaking care, Ivy eased into the room, carrying a tray with a mug of something steaming hot and a whole package of Oreos. The little girl stared unblinking at the liquid in the mug, as if willing it not to spill as she carried it over to the bedside table.

Lily shifted her phone, water glass, and various bottles of pain meds out of the way so Ivy could place the mug of...tea, Lily thought. It was the black one with the Christmas lights that appeared when it got hot, so she couldn't tell what color the drink was, but she would have smelled coffee or hot chocolate. And you know me better than that anyway, she thought.

Ivy looked around uncertainly for a place to put the Oreos, but Lily held out her hand with a smile. “Thanks. That's just what I needed right now.”

After handing over the Oreos, Ivy hugged the tray to her chest, staring down at her feet. She looked like she wanted to say something; she even opened her mouth a couple times, then closed it again in defeat.

Lily felt awkward too, fiddling with the crinkled corner of the Oreo package. The two of them hadn't really talked since the...accident. That wasn't really the right word for it, but she didn't know what to call it instead. Ivy had been around in the hospital, and had helped out when she could at home, but their parents were usually around too.

The last thing Lily had said to her little sister one-on-one was “Don't be stupid.” She wasn't sure how to act normally after that.

Finally, Ivy just whispered, “Sorry,” and scurried back to the door.

“Ivy, wait!”

Though she half-expected Ivy to keep going, she actually hesitated with her hand on the doorknob. She peeked over her shoulder through long strands of blonde hair, and Lily realized she wasn't wearing her usual pigtails. She hadn't since the accident.

She looked even more like Rose than usual. Not like five-year-old Rose, but like Rose had at the end. Lily wondered if Ivy were doing it on purpose.

With a hesitant smile, Lily said, “I can't eat all these cookies myself, you know.”

Ivy ducked her head, letting her hair swing forward. “I am sorry. I will go to the kitchen and find a more suitable snack—“

“No, silly,” Lily said, rolling her eyes. But for once, Ivy's quirks were endearing rather than annoying. “I mean I want you to stay and eat them with me.”

Ivy's head snapped up, staring at Lily with wide eyes filled with wonder and joy, like she'd never dreamed of something as wonderful as the prospect of eating a cookie with her sister. The intensity of the emotion sent a pang of guilt through Lily's heart. She really hadn't been a good sister lately, had she?

Slowly, as if she could hardly believe it, Ivy closed the door and walked back over to Lily's bed, setting the tray down on the floor. Lily carefully scooted closer to the wall and patted the bedspread next to her. “Here, come join me.”

Gingerly, Ivy clambered up onto the bed, obvious from her movements that she was trying not to jostle any of Lily's injuries. She perched precariously on the very edge of the mattress, until Lily wrapped an arm around her and pulled her close against her side. Ivy sat very still, her round cheek resting in the space between Lily's shoulder and collarbone. Lily wasn't sure if she were afraid of hurting Lily, or just listening to her breathing or something.

Lily didn't speak any words of apology or forgiveness. Those words probably needed to be said at some point, along with things like you're just as much my sister as Rose ever was and you don't have to try to be anyone other than who you are. But for now, she just peeled back the flap on top of the Oreo package and let Ivy take the first one.

As they munched on the cookies in silence, Lily realized that the playlist on her phone had circled back around to the beginning, and the jaunty tones of “Concerning Hobbits” was now softly filling the air. She brushed a few crumbs off the cover of Eight Cousins, then noticed Ivy's gaze was directed to the picture on the front of two girls sitting and reading together. One with dark hair, one with blonde. And the blonde girl's name was Rose.

“You probably haven't read this book, have you?” Lily asked quietly.

Ivy shook her head. “Mother only reads me picture books. This does not look like a picture book.”

“No, it's not. But it was one of Rose's favorites. I find it comforting to read sometimes.”

Strange. It didn't hurt to say Rose's name now, not even when Ivy looked up at her with Rose's eyes, Rose's face...and yet not. Because Lily could see now that it was Ivy looking up at her with those eyes. Just Ivy.

Lily smiled down at her baby sister. “Would you like me to read it to you?”

Ivy snuggled even closer and whispered, “Yes, please.”

With her arm still around Ivy's shoulders, Lily opened the book and flipped back to the beginning, ignoring her bookmark in the middle of the birthday party. She thumbed through well-worn pages until she got to the first chapter, titled “Two Girls.”

“Rose sat all alone in the big best parlor, with her little handkerchief laid ready to catch the first tear, for she was thinking of her troubles, and a shower was expected.”

[sophiethewitch1]

far distant and incredibly vague spoilers for www but putting it under the cut anyways

realising for some reason that at some point in all 3 wips im currently working on you get imprisoned. i would say i dont know what that says about me but i do i really do know what it says

[banana-pancake5]

YES YES YES YES YES THAT LAST LINE TOOK ME OUT I FELL ONTO THE GROUND AGFHFHDHFHHFHFJF LEMME GO SONG BY SONG

-Not Sorry for Loving You

😭 this one made me so sad. I basically knew all the lyrics already from the released snippets so I was BELTING my heart out. Her voice is so so pretty and when I just listened to it at first, I took the ending with Odysseus as a sort of “hey we’re friends but not like that so sorry but I’m gonna go now. It’s been good and I’ll miss you” and then she finally accepts it but when I watched the animatic it was so much more tragic imo. Ody seemed like he might’ve been just saying what she wanted to hear in one way, but if it was genuine he moved on quickly and she was just left on her island. Alone again forever. She knows now that what she did was wrong but she really just thought he was a gift from the gods. A companion to join her once lonely life. And the ending shot of the animatic with her alone on the island breaks my heart bc unfortunately he’s not for her. She will just remain alone forever. Makes me SOB

-Dangerous

The beginning sounding like full speed ahead is fantastic I loved it. Ody singing sounded so sad tho bc I’m not used to him without his ensemble backing him up. But he’s just on his own :(((( especially the silence after the “cause I had one goal in mind” and then when Hermes popped in with the “all you gotta do is not open this bag” confirms my beliefs that he’s been watching Ody this whole time (that’s why he sounded so knowing when saying it: he knew he was doing a call back and I love him for it) and I feel like he didn’t sound as peppy as he did in would you like. I like this bc it seems like he’s adjusting to Ody and instead of being blindly optimistic he’s trying to just motivate him (and also just vibe with his buddy) and the WIND BAG. Idk if I got the correct thing from this, but I sort of assumed that Poseidon set a storm in front of Ithaca to stop Ody from getting home; then Hermes and the winions managed to trap it and give it to Ody for “safe keeping.” Anywho I also love it being “it’s a little bit dangerous, my friend” and then “don’t you know that danger is my friend” that’s just great. AND THEN ATHENA REFERENCED FIGHTING FOR HIM FHDHDHDKDJKDDJNDKD she better be fine or ELSE

-Charybdis

This one’s just really vibey and I love the chorus. It’s also really nice hearing Mr. Mind Warrior doing his little plan. OH AND THE SOUND IT MAKES AS ITS STARTING LIKE THE HORROR-ADJACENT SCREECHEY THING IS MY FAVORITE THING EVER. Oh and idk how familiar you are with this, but certain instruments and riffs are repeated in the musical for certain characters. Odysseus has the guitar and the different types of guitars mean different things I really like the sound of his electric guitar in this one dgdgshhdgdjd and the holding on for his family is so sweet :(((( but bro said “I’ll be there today” XD um idk man maybe don’t jinx yourself like that

-GET IN THE WATER FHDHDHDHHDHD

I LOVE how powerful popo’s (that’s his new nickname his name is too long) music is it’s just dhdhdgdhhdhdhd very good and strong I love it it really imposes that power and dread and stuff. And I’m kinda dumb ig bc I didn’t realize this before but I love how he threatens to gauge ody’s son’s eyes (like how Ody did to popo’s son) like ooookay yeah settle done please don’t get crazy. Then I LOVE how Odysseus tries to talk his way out of it which is so in character dhdhdjdjdjjsk and then popo seems so determined like he doesn’t particularly care enough to want to do this, he just thinks he HAS to. So he will. And his “no” is just dhdhsgdhdjdjdk very chilling I love it. And the freaking GHOSTS OF HIS PAST BRO FHDHDHDKDJDJ polites, eurylochus, and his mom killl me everytime fhdhdhsjdhjdd and the whole crew??? They’re making me emotional. And I love that with using these call backs, when I’m listening I don’t know exactly what’s going on but they give me a pretty good idea like bro is VERY near death rhdjdjdhdjsksk then I am reminded of the no longer you prophecy. “I see you on the brink of death. I see you draw your final breath. I see a man who gets to make it home alive, but it’s no longer you.” The end of this song IS THAT MOMENT. He’s about to die, he’s taken his final breath, and after this moment I think Odysseus is dead. The monster is who takes his place. And the next song REALLY cements that

-SIX HUNDRED STRIKE (<- probably my favorite of the saga teehee)

THEHDHDJDHDJDKLAJFHEHDJDKEKDHDJD again it’s very electric guitar and the genius of bringing the riff from keep your friends close is killing me. It’s so gorgeous and just perfect for me shdhdhdkdhdkshd bro keeps using wind bag on Poseidon and honestly yeah do your thing. And the “I WILL GET BACK TO MY SON AND I WILL GET BACK TO MY WIIIIIIIIIFE” is fantastic fhdhhdjskdjdjg yes bro get him and after the strike, popo was so smug with the “can’t you see? You sealed your fate” and Ody was NOT taking it and shot back the “you’ll call of the storm” AND RIGHT BEFORE HE SAYS THAT, YOU HEAR THE RIFF THAT COMES IN DIFFERENT BEAST, THE ONE RIGHT BEFORE HE SAYS “MY REAL WIFE KNOWS IM NOT SCARED OF THE WATER” AND JUST SHDHSHSJKSKSN and then bro just TORTURES HIM LIKE FHFHDJDHDKFHTKD THIS IS PRETTY GOOD PROOF THAT THIS ISNT ODY THIS IS THE MONSTER HOLY FREAK. Then I absolutely adore his monologue as he’s stabbing him. It’s so beautiful and tragic and broken and rageful and I can’t get over it. Idk if it’s a little trick to make us kinda get in ody’s shoes but Poseidon’s screams sound so nice?? Like to us that’s because they’re sort of singy screams but to ody it’s because this is his long awaited vengeance?? “calling their captain in vain” takes me back to cyclops saga and makes me wanna sob and then the “look what you turned me into” is him basically acknowledging that he’s no longer himself anymore bc of all that’s happened and what he’s done. “You didn’t stop when I begged you” bro really has learned ruthlessness and this is his outlet dhdgshshdhfhfj and popo calling him monster it just shfhdhbfhfhfhfj it kills me man it kills me. And yeah when mr. “Ruthlessness is mercy upon ourselves” is begging you to stop you know you’ve done some stuff dhfhdhsjdjkd

AND THE LAST LINE FHDHDHDHDHDHUEIRHFHFHEHDHHEHFJFITHFHFHTH INSANE. I SHOULD’VE EXPECTED IT BUT I DIDNT AND IT TOOM ME OUT THAT IS MY NEW FAVORITE EPIC QUOTE FHDHDHHDHDHDHRHTHTJJTJTJTJTJT

Oh my gosh I’d love to hear your thoughts

OKAY OKAY OKAY I WANNA SOB NOW STOP THIS HURTS IJDEFNKJCDSNKCJEANACEKJNCAEKJ

Okay so I think how I’m gonna do this is song by song, responding to your thoughts, and then sharing mine UNDER THE CUT CUZ ITS GONNA GET LONG

- Not Sorry for Loving You

Bahhhh ikkkkkk it really makes me just feel so bad for Calypso!! Her voice is literally gorgeous I love the way her songs sound so much decnihedcncijedncidjeniec I feel like he was just saying what she wanted to hear but at the same time I think it was genuine (platonic)?? It didn’t SOUND like he was just lying to her face but I can totally picture him doing so. But if he was being genuine then, yeah, BOY MOVED ON QUICK. I didn’t realllllly like Calypso in the being because she was …kind of a creep…. But now it makes so much more sense and it’s heart wrenching looking back on how she acted. That was the ONLY person she’d seen/talked to in SO MANY YEARS. She thought he was gift from the gods and she hears him talking about this Penelope girl and is like “who that?” And he just says “She’s my wife“ that must of crushed her bro!!! But of course she persisted bc that’s the only person she has!!!!! Then he leaves. Her life that had finally changed for the better is back to its usual loneliness. I want a song called “Alone in paradise” about her before he comes and or after he’s gone. It would be DEVASTATING.

- Dangerous

Okay wow I did not realize that!!! Ohhhhh that’s why it sounded so different!! Well 1 he’s sorta depresso, but yeah his ensemble is gone! Okay honestly I love Hermes so much but “All you gotta is not open this bag” DUDE THATS KINDA A MEAN JOKE DONT YOU THINK???? Heheheh I love that part of the song tho so I can’t be mad at him XD oh I can totally imagine hm watching Ody the whole, and the fact he knew he was making a call back (bc of course he did) is just so funny to me. Hermes adjusting to the current mood makes me love him so much more. He’s not just being all annoying and teasing Ody because he is aware of everything that Ody’s been through (which is A LOT), but that said, Hermes is still vibing and as he does he encourages and helps Ody too. WHOLESOME FUN FRIENDSHIPS I LOVE IT SO MUCH!!!! OHHHHH OKAY OKAY THAT CLEARS THAT UP. I was genuinely so confused like they already used all the wind??????? But that makes a lot more sense!!

I HAVE THOUGHTS ON ATHENA. ONE, THAT REFERENCE CDEIHNCEDIJNCEDIJENJICFENCE I WAS NOT EXPECTING IT AND I LOVED IT SO MUCH. Two, I thought she died but now I no longer do!!! Partly because I watched a ton more God Games animatics and a good couple of them she survives (I think? Maybe I’m remembering wrong lol), and…. Well okay turns out I don’t have another point. Maybe I just gaslit myself into thinking she was alive with no evidence XD

- Charybdis

Listening to it again rn to remember it lol

Honestly yeah I agree and I also don’t have many opinions on this song ¯\_(ツ)_/¯ I mean it’s GREAT, just as every song in the musical, but it didn’t stick out too much to me :/

OH BUT THE END. HE SEES HIS HOME AND THEN STUPID POPO (love the nickname) POPS UP TO KILL HIM.

The instruments!!!! I may be watching a lot of the videos the main guy has made bc it’s so interesting, but! I did see stuff about this! I think he said that Electric music is correlated with magic, so the more magic in the scene the more electric components. That being said I am apparently garbage at noticing these motifs and instruments in the music bc I didn’t even notice the electric guitar ;-;. BUT I HAVE HEARD SOME INTERESTING THOUGHTS I WANNA TALK ABOUT!!!

Have you seen the one short talking about the Sirens Powers? If not then you NEED to. Idk how to find it tho…. But anyway, basically it’s talking about how the siren’s song, depending on how clearly the recipient can hear, gives her access to memories so she can lure her prey into the water. THATS WHY THE SIREN SAID DAUGHTER INSTEAD OF SON!!!! Since he had the beeswax in his ears she couldn’t fully access his memories and so she got stuff wrong! That’s alllsooooo why the song has stinking Polites’ instrument (a mallet or something like that) instead of Penelope’s!! THE DETAILS IN THE MUSIC ARE SO COOL AND THE AMOUNT KF THOUGHT PUT INTO IT IS SO AWESOME EIJCNSDJINCDISJNCKSJDNJCKSD

- GET IN THE WATER YES ISCDUNWDCJINWCDJKNCDWKJNCSD

Ikkkk all his songs set the mood so perfectly! OKAY THE LITERAL GASP I MADE WHEN I READ THAT. YEAH I GUESS IM DUMB TOO BC THAT WENT WAYYYYYY OVER MY HEAD. NXSXJINXSDIJWNCKDJSNCIWJDNCJDIWDECN THAT COMPARISON KILLS ME. Ody is Leo 100% every single time Ody is talking his way out of something I’m reminded of it XD. It’s kind of a relief seeing Ody try to talk his way out of it. Yes he has changed, but he is still him yknow? Popo’s line delivery gives me chills. It’s so spooky and dramatic. and he’s got a point! If he lets Ody go then people will definitely see him as less of a threat. Doesn’t mean I appreciate Popo’s actions one bit though lol. I LOVE the following scene when he starts singing “Ruthlessness is mercy upon ourselves” the peril, chaos, waves crashing all around Ody. Even without the animatic you can just sense the threat. Also it sounds epic (hehe puns). AND FOLLOWED BY THE GHOSTS BROOOO DWIHBCDSIHBCDAJHBWDCIUNCDS. WAIT. WAIT WAIT WAIT. YOU ARE SO CORRECT. THE PROPHECY THATS IT. THATS INSANE. AGHHHHHHHHHHH. Noooooooooo Ody is gone. The monster takes his place and that’s devastating. I’m gonna get emotional disncjkjsdncjidsn

- THIS SONG. AH. SIX HUNDRED STRIKE. (<- Probably tied for first or second fav in this saga Dangerous is just such a bop) (listening to this song on loop as a write this)

I DIDNT EVEN NOTICE THAT THATS WHAT THE RIFF WAS FROM SDCNDUCEHBDDWUHNWDCHINUHCDWNW Popo you should’ve learned by now, Don’t let Ody have the stinking wind bag!! Popo fell for the same trick twice in a row XD. ALSO JUST AHH ODY “CANT AFFORD TO DIE” I LOVE THAT LINE VERY MUCH. BC HE LITERALLY CANT. HE HAS DONE SO MUCH TO GET BACK HOME HE AINT GONNA WASTE ALL THAT EFFORT AND DIE. and yesssssssss that’s such a good line asnswihxnxwsjinxweijnxdwnjixwdjinxdw. HOW DO I KEEP MISSING THESE MUSICAL MOMENTS NCJIWDDNIJDEWNIJDNWDDIJWNCD I DIDNT NOTICE THAT RIFF EITHER!!!! AH. Okay I just wanna ramble a bit about the whole torture and pre torture bit. The second Popo said “or what? You can’t kill me,” so stinking naive Popo, I KNEW what was gonna happen. THAT CONCEPT. USEING HIS IMMORTALITY AGAINST HIM. HE CANT DIE BUT HE’LL WISH HE COULD. I JUST— AHHHHHHHH ITS SO GOOD. AND HORRIFIC BUT DECNSDCIUNCDWJINWDCJINICEF. And then Popo begging for mercy, which he was oh so against previously (ironic right). When he sees Ody approach with his Trident and starts panicking “Wait …Wait!” ODY IS SO RUTHLESS BRO. HE DEFINITELY IS THE MONSTER. AND SOMETHING ABOUT HIM COMPLETELY IGNORING POPO WHEN HE SAID “ENOUGH” AND THEN SHUTTING HIM DOWN WHEN HE YELLS STOP. And when Popo yells out, “you MONSTERRR” I died. Nuidceiuecdnjidecnjindec. It’s so cruel and messed up but that was Popo’s outlet. he just let out all of his pent up rage, all of his guilt, everything. Oh and yes, “calling their captain in vain” gives me FLASHBACKS to Survive AND the Ruthlessness (it’s faint but the crew yells “captain” in the background) which justs add more to that sick irony of the scene.

— Okay, slight side tangent, but Popo saying “the line between naive and hopefulness is almost invisible” durning Ruthlessness is just killing me bc of what I said earlier, “‘or what? you can’t kill me,’ so stinking naive Popo” I just can’t dfwnuhedcnudhe —

“After everything you’ve done …how will you sleep at night?” “Next to my Wife” BRO THAT LINE IK ITS KILLS ME CEDIHNCUHEFNCEDIJNIUDXWNIJWXDNWCDJ OH DEFINITELY ONE OF IF NOT THE BEST EPIC QUOTE

Oooooookay think I responded to basically everything you’ve said and told my thoughts…. Hopefully this whole ramble makes sense :P

IF YOU HAVE ANY MORE QUESTIONS OR JUST THINGS YOU WANNA SAY ABOUT ANY OF THE SONGS PLEASE HOP IN MY IN BOX MORE CDEJINFDEIJDCENIDEJCNECDNIJCFE

[wistrea]

❛    there you are!    ❜ the witch is a blur of spinning lavender, the fabric of her dress a stark contrast against polished floors of the gala's scene. she has done naught but dance since the music had begun playing, and her smile has is only growing wider for it. it has been too long since her soles were won out from dancing rather than running, and she intends to make the most of it. kira finds kurt and her lithe fingers reach for the collar of his shirt, adjusting what was already in place as a performative gesture more than anything.

after all, she had brought him with her as her guest! what good was an invitation if one did not indulge in the food and the music, avoiding boring conversation? ❛    i thought i'd find the sun coming up before i'd find you. come, dance with me.    ❜

@nachtsoklein ☆

[egginfroggin]

Running gag in Iced Tracks where every photo/portrait/painting of Ingo and Zisu has Zisu wearing a full suit of armor that shows no skin or defining features. It's impossible to tell if there's anyone in there.

This becomes a bit that is committed to to the extent of people not actually being sure if they actually have a queen, or if the "wedding" was a stunt to get nobles to stop sending their daughters to make eyes at Ingo, and their current king actually has no wife at all.

Ignore the red-haired silver-eyed extremely loud little children running around those totally aren't his and his supposed "wife's," those are adopted. They aren't blood heirs.

(Cue Ingo insisting that yes of course these are his children, whose else would they be, as he pats the shoulders of two of the kids, then gestures to the other two and says "these two are adopted")

(Do not imply to a man who has borne witness to the birth of his children that no, those aren't of your blood)

("Oh so my wife was playing a bit, then" "Majesty, some people don't think you have a wife --" "Then who on earth is that woman I see every day and night? I doubt I could hallucinate such a beauty")

(Zisu is losing it off to the side)

Basically, Emmet and Evelyn are the normal couple, Ingo and Zisu are full of shenanigans and go down in history as the absolute happiest couple and also the one that caused the most distress in their panel of advisors

[marnz]

every autumn I enter a state of mind where I need to be knitting something cozy while listening or watching something spooky. this always manifests in me knitting a giant project while watching teen wolf and quickly descending into madness. Once spring arrives I wake up from my sterek fugue and try to shake off it, asking friends to please give me my rabies shot next September to avoid this happening again. But it cannot be avoided. Recently I have been watching one or two seasons a year, truly stretching it out, and I do NOT know what will happen once I finish 6b and, god forbid, the movie. What will I do? Who will I become?

[skitskatdacat63]

Here is a badly drawn comic of my terrible, awkward group project experience from yesterday. I thought it was very absurd so I wanted to share it other people lol :)

Let me know, how do you find their conduct 😭