#tumblr ought to know better than to bite the hand that feeds it

[genevamichaels]

Musing a little today over my frustration with the prevalence of generative AI. We've probably all seen that tweet going around that says, essentially, "Why would I bother reading something someone else couldn't be bothered to write?" Amen, friend. I feel exactly the same way.

But it goes deeper than that. Training AI algorithms takes massive amounts of data, and when that data is scraped from the Internet with no attempt to comply with copyright law, that ought to be the end of the question. That's plagiarism and theft. Unfortunately, it's still happening, and the legal system moves at the pace of a sick snail, so there is no help coming from that direction anytime soon.

To get specific to Tumblr, structuring participation as "opting out" rather than "opting in" angles the whole system the wrong way. It should be the tech companies asking if we want to participate, not telling us we are going to be included unless we specifically tell them not to include us. We are the content producers, the only reason these algorithms have any data to train on in the first place. The power ought to belong to us. But we aren't united enough to seize that power properly, and they are going to make us invisible to the algorithm if we opt out because they can.

I want to be participating in public spaces, sharing writing and opinions, building other writers up, but if our work is going to be devalued, belittled, stolen, chewed up and regurgitated... well, then companies supporting that system can watch their content farms dry up. See how great your results are once all you have to feed the AI beast is work made by AI. It will chew itself up eventually and spit out more metallic-tasting word garbage until all the money tech bros have invested in it has vanished into the ether.

Meanwhile, we'll be working with platforms that reject AI, that help us protect our work from being stolen. We're artists and writers... we eat rejection for breakfast. This is a siege and we came fully stocked and ready to sit it out. They can't cite the deep magic to us... we were there when it was written.

[mauserfrau]

Mau's Very Silly Headcanon Post

Since I have two pieces of fiction going live this weekend and they’re both going to be late due to butting into each other XD.

I did another one here and there’s going to be some overlap, but less bodily function stuff in this one (mostly spit) (also some vague references to medical trauma).

A lot of this is small potatoes because I didn’t want to spoil anything.  How Phaseleech actually works ends up being a plot point in what I have pending, so I actually can’t just come out and say what’s going on.  That said, I’m sure there are people here who want to know what’s on my mind, but who don’t want to sit through 50K words with half a dozen squick warnings.

That said: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Mauser_Frau

Questions welcome, about this, anything else I think about Borderlands, what exactly is in Chapter 13 of Satellite, if it’s true the one flashback actually happened to Mom... 

Both

-Look, the only thing I did that’s appreciably off-canon is let them have emotions.  Maybe I drove into left field with what those emotions were, but that’s really all anybody’s got to do to fix this situation.  Go with the deity of your choice.  

-If I was headed for a Gearbox ending, it would be for the scrapped one, not the one we got.  See this and this other thing.

>>>I would still have written the twins as having something resembling a meaningful relationship regardless of whether that turned out romantic or not.  As things went and are, them as a couple was something I knew how to write and my mom shipped them (no, I’m not kidding).  

-I’m not going for a canon ending.  Mercy, did I find a thread I could snap and take the whole sweater out.  

-Both had blue siren markings when they were born; Troy’s turned red after they were separated.

--Which was a complicated mess-- they were upside-down verses each other and had several secondary adhesions, the most notable of which was Tyreen’s face to Troy’s thigh.

---Leda never 100% recovered from the emotional or physical trauma, but she put on a brave face for the last sevenish years of her life.  

---Troy’s tissue loss was severe and left him with a notable pit in his upper right side.

---Tyreen also has heavy scarring running from her right armpit to her right hip.  It’s not as complex, but it is very visible.  Missing a fair amount of intestine compared to the average human, but this has apparently never bothered her beyond the fact that visiting the toilet when you don’t eat is not fun.

-Semi-identical twins. Have 82.5% of their genes in common.  LSS, neither one is a parasite.  They’re two sperm plus one egg and they didn’t divide right.

--Ms. Phaseleech* didn’t know any better.  #oops  

--If you get them relaxed enough, they will indeed curl up together in their “fish” position.

-Tyreen is the one who would wail first if separated from her brother when they were very small, but they don’t like being apart even as adults.  

-Both very well-read, used to recite The Odyssey to congregants instead of scripture (‘cause they didn’t have any scripture). 

-Good to excellent hunters. Depends what they’re hunting and if they’re together.  Prefer to go barefoot if there’s no one else around.

-The circumstances surrounding Leda’s death are appreciably worse than fanon baseline to the point I don’t think I ought to leave them lying around in a Tumblr post.  

-Both have wavy hair if they don’t iron the daylights out of it.

-Prefer to be on the road and around people, even if a fair amount of those people are going to end up dinner.

-Get weirdly soft-hearted around kids, especially little boys with a similar complexion to their own.

-Do they have any concept that they’re horrible people? Yes, but it’s very academic and not something that motivates them.  You’d be way more likely to hear them frame themselves as hedonists, which also explains their worldview to a certain extent.  

~*~

Troy

-Skinnier than most other Troys.  You could put him in a room with every fandom Troy and sort them by muscle mass, you’d find him at the bottom end, partying like this was an accomplishment.  

-Has an X-linked connective tissue disorder which is more extensive than he lets on.  He really should not do about 90% of the stunts he does because of the vascular involvement.

-Made a categorical decision to treat the associated pain with a lot of cannabis and massage.  Has a distinct resin and honey body butter smell because of this.

--Also, if you get him off-hours, there’s going to be a fair amount of “but why are we here, man?” discussion.

-Has a kink in his upper back.  His spine tilts to his right.  Not super noticeable, but if you were on massage duty, you’d realize something felt out of place.  

-Used to get catastrophic nosebleeds, though these have lessened in frequency and severity over the years.  

-After a certain point, has a permanent latching socket port installed on his right side, allowing him to switch arms out as he likes.

--Because he has a selection of eccentric ones.  What? It’s a challenge to learn to use non-human aspects like claws or feathers or forty joints in a tentacle.  

--Still flounces around without one if nobody of consequence is watching and generally won’t sleep with one in.

-The insides of his ear gauges are messy and don’t even get him started on changing the jewelry on any, erm, other piercings he might have.  (Nipples and one off-center PA.  That was QUITE enough after what it took for his tattoos to cooperate.) 

-Will frame any illness or off-day as a migraine, which he does get.

-Had really bad teeth before his mouth mods.  After that, has none of his natural teeth remaining.  Primarily uses his exceptional bite radius to annoy others, show off, eat sandwiches in a disturbing fashion and do unspeakable things in bed.  They’re for show.  They’re not functional in any serious way.  

-Doesn’t have great control of said mouth mods in the heat of passion or if you get him laughing hard enough.  Hope you like spit!

-Still has rather heinous-looking feet, but he’s concerned about losing his calluses if he has them fixed.  You’d be more likely to see him open on an operating table than barefoot in public.  

-Always wants to be the little spoon.  You’re a tink? You’re a third his size? So what.  He wants to be the little spoon.  Just give in.

-Genuinely likes tea, especially flower-based tea.  Favorite foods include grits, polenta, tamales, campfire beefy rice, beef and broccoli layered onto somebody else’s leftover noodles, beef curry, beef sandwiches soaked in jus, steak tips on day-old fries and look just give him a sloppy plate of starch and dead cow if you need him to shut up.  

-Drinks vodka so cold and over-filtered it tastes like water, then follows it up with extra greasy, burnt-to-hell texas toast while talking about his mother.

-Lactose intolerant.  Please do not feed the rat child pizza. Or chipped beef on toast.  No, not even if he begs.  

~*~

Tyreen

-Abnormally acute senses, especially hearing/smell and including a form of intuition which targets where things she can leech exist nearby.  She’s only aware of any of this in the context of it being different from how Troy’s senses work.  She knows where to get food.  Don’t most people?

-Doesn’t perceive herself as 100% human.  The Leech is part of her and she likes herself.  Mama said she was perfect.  The details are whatever.  You got a problem here? Well, that’s easy to fix… 

-Would have been sorted as a tomboy growing up, but had no companions to do so.  As is, prefers the company of masculine individuals, loves showing people up in a boyish fashion and is absolutely going to tune you out if you start talking to her about the topic.  

-Reeks.  You might smell something “off” with her around in a meeting room, but get her sweaty or worked up and forget it.  It’s not even a human smell.  Petrichor and spray paint, menstrual blood and chlorine, dead leaves and solvent.  It’s chemical, it’s uncannily biological.  It’s really not OK.  She can’t smell it and Troy’s used to it.  

-Doesn’t shave.  Has fluffy armpits that don’t match her dye job and a rather spectacular bush that extends onto her upper thighs.  Does pluck here brows and the witch hairs on her chin, but otherwise, you know what, nah.

-Heavily tattooed, but this is limited to her torso.  The viewing of said tattoos, as well as her scars, is a ritual in her particular CoV.  

--Not that she cares about being naked.  A body is a body.  You people are so uptight.  

-Will reflexively guard her lower stomach before anything else and sometimes in error.  Do not call her on this.  You will piss her off.  

-Has an eye-shaped siren marking, but it’s on her left shoulder blade and she tends to forget it’s there.  More aware of the “pointer mark” underneath her navel.

-Poor tolerance for any drugs.

-Can only ingest salt, sucrose and 80 proof or better clear alcohol without retching.

--Which is to say she doesn’t eat “people food”.  

--Fatty or high-fiber foods tend to make her ill faster.  She could possibly keep tofu or chicken breast down for an hour or more, but it’s still not going to end well.  

--Can and does eat cinder toffee because it’s one of the few things she can chew and digest.  Konpeito is nice too, but sometimes the dye upsets her stomach.  

--Milk, maybe.  Human works better.

-Enjoys swimming or long baths.

-Ambidextrous.  Was either born that way or picked up doing certain things left-handed because that’s what her brother had to work with and she had to show him how to do stuff somehow.

-Good with a forearm-mounted crossbow.  Either hand is fine.

-Used to drool precipitously when she leeched something “good”.  Mostly has a handle on this by the time the CoV gets to be a thing.  Mostly.  

-Deeply immature love language which might include her actually asking to play with her prospective partner and a good bit of bullying.

-SHE IS NOT SHY ABOUT HER NEEDS AND KINKS.  THE HELL WITH YOU.  YOU’RE MAKING SOMETHING OUT OF NOTHING.  HOW DARE YOU.  DO YOU WANT TO BE SKAG BAIT ON THE NEXT LIVESCREAM.  UGH. #nottsundereatall

~*~

* The Leech IDed herself as, erm, herself in some stuff I’m not sure I’ll ever post but ANYWAY.

[ask-de-writer]

SEA DRAGON’S GIFT : Part 52 of 83 : World of Sea

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SEA DRAGON’S GIFT

Part 52 of 83

by

De Writer (Glen Ten-Eyck)

140406 words

copyright 2020

written 2007

All rights reserved.

Reproduction in any form, physical, electronic or digital is prohibited without the express consent of the author.

//////////////

Copyright fair use rules for Tumblr users

Users   of Tumblr.com are specifically granted the following rights.  They may   reblog the story provided that all author and copyright information   remains intact.  They may use the characters or original characters in   my settings for fan fiction, fan art works, cosplay, or fan musical   compositions.

All sorts of fan art, cosplay, music or fiction is actively encouraged.

///////////////////////

New to the story?  Read from the beginning.  PART 1 is here

///////////////////////

A Dragon’s grin split Mecat’s face, showing her many very large fangs.  “The Gift was not wasted on you, Little Bite.  You think like a Dragon.  Yes, so long as you actively seek justice from the Naral fleet, you may have refuge in the Dragon Sea.”

“A last quest’n, t’en.  May we assemble witnesses on our be’alf an’ bring t’em north, t’ t’e ship?”

“The Law of the Naral fleet says that you may have witnesses.  We will allow you to assemble what you need for your case.”

“Oi see wye Kurin luves ye so muckle, Mecat.  Oi wad give ye a ‘ug, ‘twere it permitted,” said Tanlin quietly.  “Ye ‘ave given us a fair chance an’ given ane t’ t’e fleet as well.  Did ye guess t’at we donnae wont t’ leave our fleet?”

The massive head tilted curiously.  “I would appreciate a hug from you, Little Bite.  I did not guess that there could be two who would want to do so.”

Tanlin spread her arms wide, finding the same problem that Kurin had, Gatherings before.  Mecat’s muzzle was simply too large to get a grip on.  Still, she did her best.  She was surprised to feel the large powerful tendrils that fringed Mecat’s mouth wrap gently about her as well.  Another surprise was that Mecat was warm to the touch.

When they parted, Frath said, “My sister has been far more interested in humans than the rest of us.  Considering the speed with which you’ve spread through the ecology and the far reaching effects that you’ve had, it just proves once again that she always has been and always will be wiser than the rest of us.  That’s why we listen to her.

“Did you know that she had me steer this storm over nine hundred miles out of it’s planned path, just to isolate you from the rest of the fleet so that she could have this talk?”  He snorted.  “Ridiculous, I would have said.  A ship more or less is not a matter that will result in ecological disturbance.  Of course, she saw it differently.  Now I understand what she was getting at.  As usual, she is right.”

Now that it was not a matter of defending her ship, Tanlin realized just what she was doing, talking to a Great Sea Dragon as if he were a guest in her cabin for flavored water and crunchy snacks.  She got weak in the knees.  She sat down and tried to calm herself.  The Wide Wings flew off from her shoulders.

Even though partly overcome by her temerity, curiosity led her to ask, “Frath, ye talk an’ breathe, ‘ow can ye live under woter?”

“Do you know, you are the first human to ask any of us that question?  It is simple really.  I am moving air through the same gills that I use to breathe water.”

“If ye ‘ave gills, ‘ow con ye talk?  Or breathe air for t’at matter.”

“My gills are a series of fine tubes stacked together into organs similar to your own lungs.  Water comes in through my nostrils and is pumped through the gills and then normally exits by my gill slits.  In air, I close down about seventy percent of the tubes because there is so much oxygen that I might suffer ill effects if I did not.  I also close my gill slits.  That makes the air exit by my mouth.  I make the back of my throat vibrate the exiting air column and modify it with my tongue and mouth to make words.  The part that I use to vibrate the air is used for echolocation when I’m underwater.  Do you follow me?”

“Oi t’ink so…”  Just then the Sea Hawks returned, each one carrying a fish in its talons.  They dropped the fish into Tanlin’s lap and landed beside her.  The female of the two picked up one of the fish in her beak and tried to put it into Tanlin’s mouth. Tanlin took the fish into her hand, bit off some and began to chew. Both birds watched her carefully, then took off up to their nest.

Frath giggled.  “Speaking of mixed up ecology, you have just been formally adopted as a part of their flock.  You gave them a safe place in the storm, defended their nest and brought them food.  When they thought that I was a threat, they tried to defend you from me, and then, when you got overcome with weakness, they got food and tried to take care of you.  I think that they’d fight to the death for you, if they had to.  You do make the oddest friends.”

Tanlin smiled at the Dragon.  “Speakin’ o’ w’ich, w’en ye arenae steerin’ storms around, could ye come an’ talk t’ m’?  Oi like t’ ‘ear ye explain t’ings.”

“What, just be friends?”

“Aye.”

“Let me think about that one.  Maybe ask my sister.  Nobody ever asked that one before either.  I think that they were afraid of us because of our size.  Kurin and Mecat are the only friends like that, and long ago there was Jenn the Whale’s friend, who was our friend too.”  Frath submerged in a swirl of foam and was gone.

Chapter 19: Aftermath

The Grandalor rode the center of the storm northward.  In the eye of the Coriolis Storm, the weather was no worse than a badly choppy, windy Winter day.  They followed their progress north by moon sightings made possible by the clear sky overhead.

In many regards, the area was like the storm track that ships tried to escape into.  The iron gray whitecaps were full of hungry, feeding creatures of all sizes.  There were the usual Strong Skins, swarming around any injured or dead creatures.

The Wide Wings, ranging out from the ship to hunt fish, began to point out a place over a mile from the Grandalor.  They swooped down and climbed back up in graceful circles, found their station and swept down again.

The lookouts were wise enough to know that Tanlin was interested in anything that the birds did.  They notified Barad and Tanlin came up to the deck shortly after hearing of the odd behavior of the birds. She watched for only a few moments, getting a faraway look on her face as she did.

Tanlin came back to herself, shaking slightly, as if fitting herself back to her own body.  Pointing at the place the birds were indicating, she said, “Tis a Hag school Barad, m’ Luve.  T’ey’re feedin’ on a dead Lesser Dragon.  Some’re fair sized.  T’ere’s little shelled Hags, too.  Ought t’ get some i’ we put a net oot.”

Barad ordered a fine meshed net spread and had helmsman Macoul make for the Hag school.  Men and women, under the direction of the Masters who had designed it, prepared the big war catapult for a better use.  The massive coils of springy rope that drove its bow arms were tensioned. The windlass strained as it pulled the machine back to full cock. It was loaded with a massive harpoon, meant to breach the hull of a ship.

By this time, the lookouts were guiding the ship to its most advantageous position for firing into the school.  Bosun Modanet was riding a seat at the back of the catapult’s beam to aim it.  When he judged the roll of the ship to be proper, he struck the release with a mallet.  The results were sobering.

Due to refraction, he had missed the Hag that he was aiming for.  The bolt blasted all the way through the carcass of the seventy foot Lesser Dragon, penetrating nine feet of hide bone and muscle.  It jolted the line anchors that pulled it to a stop, over a hundred feet away.  That wasn’t all.  The recoil threw Bosun Modanet from his seat and slid the big machine five feet back across the deck.  It was secured by tackle or it would have gone further.  As Modanet picked himself up, he saw one of the catapult crew being helped to sickbay. His arm obviously broken.

“What happened to Karlan?” he asked, shaken.

“He was hit by the cocking cable block when it came off tension during firing,” was the reply.

It was a more serious and careful group that prepared the catapult for its next shot.  Modanet tied himself to his aiming seat.  The lessons learned paid off on the next shot.  They pulled the bow a shorter distance and changed the recoil tackle.

Aiming for a big Hag, the Bosun allowed for refraction this time.  The bolt smashed through the creature’s cephalon, just back of the tentacle roots, destroying one enormous eye and the brain behind it.  They let the big cephalopod hang on the harpoon line until it quit flailing and the deadly barbed tentacles dangled lax.  It was snared into a cargo net and pulled aboard, straining all the lifting tackle of the Grandalor to do it.  Twelve thousand pounds of dangerous — and valuable — creature lay on the deck ready for processing.

They killed two more smaller ones before the school fled.  Some of the Lesser Dragon carcass was salvageable, hide and bone, mostly.  The meat was going over and was contaminated by Hag venom as well.  The near priceless head, with its many long, strong fangs was already gone from the carcass.  The remaining meat was still valuable as bait.  More than twenty Strong Skins were added to stores before a Wing Ray showed up and took it all.  The monster was big enough that the Grandalor was not willing to risk putting a harpoon in it.

Karlan, arm splinted and in a sling, just looked at the powerful whirlpools made by the wing tips descending through the water ninety feet apart. Sardonically he said, “What if it were to notice that we pricked it?”

Bosun Modanet nodded soberly.  “I was on the Light of Dorac when the Kellen did that.  We saw it happen.  The Ray broke the harpoon lines like weak string.  It sounded, then jumped.  It hit the main mast just below the main yard. The impact rolled the ship and the Wing Ray landed on it at the same time.  The Kellen was gone in under a minute.  We beat the Ray to one of the survivors.”  He turned to watch the bustle of men and women processing the catch.

TO BE CONTINUED

<==PREVIOUS   NEXT==>

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[writteninsunshine]

I Like The Universe - Saïx/Xemnas - NSFW

Title: I Like The Universe

Author: Donnie

Fandom: Kingdom Hearts

Setting: The Castle That Never Was, Xemnas’ Room

Pairing: Saïx/Xemnas

Characters: Saïx, Xemnas, Axel

Genre: Romance

Rating: M

Chapters: 1/1

Word Count: 14450

Type Of Work: One-Shot

Status: Complete

Warnings: Gay, Slash, Yaoi, MLM, Oral Sex, Vague Master/Pet, Blowjobs, Face-Fucking, Skull-Fucking, PWP

Disclaimer: I don’t own anything.

Summary: The universe didn’t always have to be stars and planets.

AN: Hey guys, it’s me again! Just thought I ought to say, if you want vague updates and to talk to me more, I have Twitter and Tumblr, too! Twitter is Sunshinecackle, and Tumblr is Writteninsunshine! I also have a writing Discord that is currently pretty dead. xD I can PM it to people who want it on FFN, for everyone else, it’s here: https://discord.gg/FyaWw25

I had this thought in my head last night and had to write it, I guess. I’m glad to get something written, I’ve been using writing sprints to get something done. It helps me to focus, so that’s good, at least. I’ve been needing to write more.

Kingdom Hearts Fic Masterlist

I Like The Universe

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~

Saïx liked the universe. 

Something about the vastness of it, the sky spattered with stars, the knowledge of other Worlds, it all settled the anxiety in his chest. He could look out of the windows, or go to a high place to think, and the universe was always there to comfort him, to wrap its inky tendrils around his mind. It soothed his non-heart until it didn’t scream anymore until it was silent, and the silence was better than the loudness of his thoughts.

Saïx liked Xemnas.

He shouldn’t have, and he knew that, deep down. Axel and himself had gone into this not wanting to fall on his side. The unfortunate part was that it seemed that he was going to be left in the dust, their plan forgotten. There was nothing left of what they had once wanted to accomplish, and Saïx had been left behind, abandoned for the next cool thing. His heart, or lack thereof, had ached for days. 

That same silence he craved in his head became his entire personality, his loyalty in the right place to be swayed. Xemnas was nothing if not practical, and he’d seen it fit to call Saïx to his precipice, to draw him in and welcome him home. If he could keep someone’s loyalty, well, that was better than all of these little plots among his supposedly happy family.

“You wanted to see me, Superior?” Saïx asked calmly, watching the elder man as he gazed at Kingdom Hearts.

“Yes,” Xemnas spoke plainly, turning slowly, ethereal in all of his movements, “I am glad you arrived when you did. Has everyone checked in that was supposed to?”

“Yes, Superior.” The blue-haired man nodded, “Everything seems to be taken care of for the day.”

“Good. I was hoping you could join me in my room.” The elder man told him, stepping closer. A gloved hand pressed into Saïx’s cheek and he leaned into it, eyelids slipping closed. “Would you care to?”

“Yes, Superior.” He craved the attention, no matter what it was. 

“Good.” Opening a corridor, Xemnas gestured for the other to enter, “Please, after you.”

“Yes, Superior.” Those words left him so often, but they made him feel obedient, which was something Xemnas sought in him constantly. Perhaps he wanted it, too, because it earned him nothing but praise. As he walked through the portal, he let the other lead him, feeling a hand taking his own. It brought a soft smile to his lips, and he allowed himself to be taken to the elder man’s room.

A companionable silence overcame them as they entered Xemnas’ room, and the nightly ritual of undressing and laying together began. Xemnas’ hands worked through his hair, pulling a soft noise of contentment from the blue-haired man, and Xemnas simply smiled for him, closed-lipped and soft.

“What would you like to do tonight, pet?” Xemnas asked him, finally, his head tilting against the pillow. 

“I… Want to be touched,” Saïx responded softly, head tilting as those dark-skinned hands worked under his jaw to scratch there. It felt good, and his head fell back to grant him more access. Every gentle scrape of the other’s perfectly trimmed nails left him adjusting just slightly into the next touch and he sighed softly, content.

“Then I shall touch you. A loyal pet deserves nothing less.” The silver-haired male replied, kissing the scar between Saïx’s eyes and nuzzling his neck gently with his nose. Sitting up slowly, he let the blanket fall down to his hips, pooling there as his hands moved down Saïx’s chest. “On your back, pet.”

Rolling over and spreading out, Saïx bared himself to the other, watching as the elder man leaned down over his stomach. Soft hair tickled his abdomen as gentle kisses and sharp bites pressed into his skin. A soft throbbing began between his legs as those nails dug into his sides, scraping down to his thighs. Softly, a  keening whine left him, and his back arched as the elder’s tongue swirled around his nipple, leaving him panting softly. Xemnas always knew how to touch him to set his every nerve on fire.

Saïx whined again when the other’s mouth found his hip bone, biting into it and sucking until his cheeks hollowed. The younger man wriggled beneath his mouth, only stilling when one of those deft hands wrapped around his cock and began to stroke. It was times like these that made him feel important when Xemnas would focus entirely on <i>his</i> pleasure, and not his own. 

After a moment, those teeth left him and Saïx peered up just in time to watch Xemnas get up, settling between his legs. All of that dark skin pressed to and between his own left Saïx breathless, and he gasped as the elder’s tongue swirled around the head of his cock. No matter how much he wanted to watch, he found himself unable to, eyelids fluttering shut as he groaned.

Xemnas’ tongue played at the elastic bit of flesh beneath the head, and he sucked softly, leaving a panting groan pulled from Saïx’s lips. His hands fisted in the sheets, and the blue-haired man whined when he felt the other’s hand begin to stroke what wasn’t in his mouth. The other hand slipped down to roll his heavy balls, expertly pulling more gut-punched moans from his lips. 

Finally, Xemnas’ mouth dropped lower, slowly taking in more of him, sucking him deep and moaning around him. Swallowing around the head in his throat, he delighted in the howl of a moan leaving the other man, his back arching and hips threatening to leave the bed. He slurped loudly, sucking his way back to the head, before giving a little purr of a moan.

“You may thrust if it suits you, pet. You’ve been so good for me.” Xemnas couldn’t have said anything better, and the second that his lips closed around his prick again, both of Saïx’s hands flew to his hair. Thrusting up into the hot, wet cavern, his eyes rolled back, mouth open as he leaked precum down the other’s throat already. Xemnas gagged a little, at first, before relaxing his throat and letting Saïx have his fun. Sometimes that was all he had to do, let himself be used and the other was only that much more obedient afterward.

Even if that wasn’t the goal, Xemnas rather did enjoy how the other’s cock bulged his neck when he thrust, and he found himself closing his legs to try and mitigate some of his own arousal. Saïx was a handsome young man, and a good person to have on your side, even if he occasionally dallied with the wrong crowd. All he cared about at the moment was Xemnas and the pleasure that the elder could give him, and sometimes, that was enough.

Saïx worked himself into a frenzy, bucking off the bed wildly and force-feeding the other his cock with each erratic movement. It felt too good to finally be able to get some of that wild energy out, and all he had to do was chase his orgasm like it was the only purpose left for him. Xemnas would let him use him, and it was possibly the best thing anyone could have given him at this point in his life.

Throat spasming around him as Xemnas gagged again, Saïx felt the heat pooling in his stomach twist and he gave a loud howl, tossing his head back as his body went stiff. Both feet dug into the bed and pushed down, and he thrust up as he came, filling the other’s belly as he swallowed. Fists turned to soft palms, smoothing down Xemnas’ hair as he came down, hands quaking. He felt so good, now. It… Really was amazing how much more relaxed Xemnas could make him.

Slowly pulling off of his cock, Xemnas let it fall from his lips with a gentle ‘pop’ and laid it on Saïx’s belly. He smiled up at the other as he pet his milky thighs, and he kissed one of them before rising and falling in bed beside the other. Saïx was too tired to do much, smiling and nuzzling into him, holding the other male close. Asleep in a matter of seconds, Saïx remained curled around the silver-haired man for the rest of the night, Xemnas happy to work himself off slow and careful under the covers beside the other. Tomorrow would be a productive day, for sure.

Saïx loved the universe, but when he thought about it, he wasn’t thinking about planets and galaxies. It was Xemnas; even if they couldn’t love, his heart had figured it out.

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~

AN: Alright, so that is out of the way! I’d had this idea even if I didn’t know where it was going last night and finally sat down to write it. I hope you guys enjoyed it!

[quincette]

Green-Eyed

Chapter 4 A Kojuro/MC Jealousy Fic Link to  Chapter 1 | Chapter 2 | Chapter 3

“A maid told me she saw her feeding him in the kitchen with her hand.”

It frightened him how his own thought had snuck up on him again.

“Kojuro-sama?” she said, noticing how he went quiet and feeling his arms tighten around her.

Did it happen? Was it like this? Did you offer? Did he ask?

Woohooooo, in celebration of Kojuro’s birthday I decided that I need to get down and actually write this fic I started when I first read his MS, lol. Such a long wait - my apologies! Enjoy!

“An exceptional woman, isn’t she?”

He had lost her again, somewhere in the crowd.

“To think that even Masamune would go to such length.”

“But all’s well. I think this will be good for everyone.”

What are you talking about? He hadn’t asked Masakage, who obviously knew more than he had, but this one time Kojuro’s face had betrayed him.

“Oh, Masamune hasn’t told you yet, has he?”

No, he has not. Whatever that was that Masakage had been talking about.

“Well, he will, soon, I would think. You two need to work on the details.”

You two. Who? Masamune and himself? And her? She and Masamune? Or?

The variables were confusing and his mind had been spinning out an impossible web of stories, of possibilities of a conspiracy, from them. He blamed the small little things that had happened that day. Now, if only he could find her –

A familiar grip on his shoulder had him turn around to find Masamune’s green eye looking at him.

“We need to talk,” he whispered, rather briskly. “Tomorrow morning.”

That was all he said before he left to attend Kojiro and his mother, and their entourage from Mogami clan. He ought to be with them, to fend off those snakes from sinking their venomous fangs into Masamune. But his one-eyed dragon, he had found recently, has grown thick scales and confidence to brush them off without his aid.

Kojuro was proud.

And strangely feeling rather melancholic about it.

So he continued his search for her. The crowd had mostly dispersed, breaking away to smaller groups and retiring to more intimate places inside the castle ground, and out, for a more serious talk, or in most cases, more serious drinking sessions.

Yet he couldn’t spot her, not the familiar shape of her head, nor the single blush-coloured peony that adorned her short hair.

His feet brought him to his office, but she wasn’t there.

And the maids in the castle kitchen shook their heads when asked about their former chef’s whereabouts.

“We need to talk.”

“You two need to work on the details.”

“I heard she’s his mistress.”

The bits and snippets he had heard throughout the day bounced and collided with each other inside his head. Kojuro had always had a knack to foresee things based on fragments of information. It had been this ability that got the Date clan where it is right now – in a state of peace and relative safety.  

But right now, it was dragging his mind to a decidedly darker place.

She was not in Masamune’s office, either. No one was there.

She wouldn’t have gone back to their house on her own…

Which would leave one more place where she could be.

And confirming his deduction, he saw that the windows to the hidden little cottage tucked on the edge of the garden – Masamune’s secret kitchen, the thought gave his heart a little squeeze  – were lit.  

The smell wafting from the cottage was sweet. His belly gave a little rumble, as if it recognizes the aroma.

And there she was, bent over the stove, minding a pot of what he assumed was her famous spiced oshiruko.The scene before his eyed took him back to the first time he had tasted her cooking. How she had made a hearty, delicious meal out of the seemingly unsalvageable onigiri that he had made. For Masamune.

He had been there, then, his Masamune. He was not there with them this time. But he might as well be.

The three date crests that were embroidered on the back of her furisode told him as much. And also the flock of sparrows delicately painted on the upper part of it.

It fitted her beautifully. That damned furisode made from that Yuzen bolt kept in the clan’s treasury.

Kojuro wondered if Oda Nobunaga, the so-called King of Hell himself, would be offended to know that the exquisite fabric he had gifted to the Date clan has graced a kitchen. Or that it has been gifted to Masamune’s –

What?

Former chef. Trusted retainer. A more sober, reasonable voice inside his head supplied helpfully. Even as an insidious one whispered over it, echoing a splinter of gossip that had evidently lodged itself under his skin.

“I heard she’s his mistress.”

“To think that even Masamune would go to such length.”

What is going on?

The sound of clanging pot pulled him out of his head.

“Oh, Milord!”

There goes the chance to surprise her, Kojuro thought bitterly as he smiled.

“You surprised me!”

Or not.

“Forgive me,” he said. “I have been looking for you.”

He crossed the threshold. It’s warmer, and even more fragrant inside.

Before he could say anything, his stomach, again, made an audible rumble.

She laughed and pulled him inside, gently maneuvering him to sit on one of the simple benches furnishing the place. Her small hands felt so warm against his skin.

“Please sit,” she commanded, pushing him down. “I know you haven’t got a bite in you yet, and the main kitchen was such a chaos I thought to prepare something here.”

She flitted back to the stove and came back with a steaming spoon.

“Have a taste,” she blew the steam off the spoon and brought it to his mouth.

Kojuro wondered sometimes if her cooking had any part in him falling for her. If happiness had a taste, then for him, it tasted like this – warm, gentle, filling. He savoured the spoonful of thick broth and felt the warmth spread to thaw his chilled bones.

“Good?” she asked, even if he could tell that she knew he would never taste better oshiruko anywhere else.

Smiling, he pulled her down onto his lap.

“I don’t know… Let me have another taste,” he meant to tease.

She scrunched up her face to hide her smile. “Why, Milord, did you just ask to feed you?”

“A maid told me she saw her feeding him in the kitchen with her hand.”

It frightened him how his own thought had snuck up on him again.

“Kojuro-sama?” she said, noticing how he went quiet and feeling his arms tighten around her.

Did it happen? Was it like this? Did you offer? Did he ask?

He closed his eyes, banishing the thought.

“Milord?”

He felt her hand cupping his cheek.

When he opened his eyes again, he saw her looking down at him with questioning eyes. And then he saw one of those damned embroidered crests.

He claimed her lips with his own.

He didn’t want to think.

Mine.

He relished her gasp, and the feel of her yielding in his arms as he coaxed her lips to part for him.

Mine. Mine.

He suckled on her tongue, and twined their limbs, one hand cradling her head while the other encircling her waist, crushing her elaborately tied obi as he pressed into her, hungry in more ways than he cared to examine.  

“Kojuro…,” she managed, when they parted for air. “Kojuro-sama…!” she said, sharper, as she felt his lips latch on the dip in her throat.

“I want you,” he said, as if he could brand his words onto her skin.

The spoon she’d been holding clattered to the floor and she put her arms around his neck.

“I want to take you home and bury myself inside of you,” the words came out unbidden from his mouth as he traced her collarbone with his tongue.

Her now audible breathing only spurred him on.

“I want, I want all of you.” It’s frustrating how words couldn’t adequately express the heady cocktail of emotion lodged inside his chest. “I want to keep you in my bed until every nook, every cranny of your body remember me.”

She let out a low, broken whimper.

Mine.

She arched her back as he used his tongue and teeth to attack a particularly sensitive spot below her ear.

Her hand grasped his hair, splaying open to seek purchase. He felt her chest expand as she took a gulp of air. Then he heard her voice, whispered with an effort near the shell of his ear.

“Take me home, then.”

(Yes, next part is the smut part - yay!)

Enjoy my writings? here’s my masterpost!

Thank you for reading - any kind of feedback, reactions or incoherent babbles are greatly appreciated! 

Also shout out these lovely peeps who have been tagging me in posts @karalija @kojuriffic  @bulbaqueen @pseudofaux @nikkihime - thank you my lovelies, I’m sorry I haven’t been able to respond properly. 

My modus operandi these days are skim and drop shitty squealing post and not much else, I’m afraid, I blame work and stuff *sobs*! BUT I LOVED BEING TAGGED IN STUFF, FEEL FREE YOU GUYS! Plus Tumblr’s app in updated IOS is horrible and lagging like all the time!

 Next update in queue is Personal Injuries!

[gaealynn]

All this talk (like, a week ago, which is.. forever ago on tumblr) of how much Anakin would like a little BDSM has gotten me thinking.

I propose -- an Obi-Wan who indulges one of Anakin’s tantrums and is startled to find that he, ah, doesn’t quite mind letting Anakin tie him up and dote on him; and an Anakin who is over the moon at being allowed to do so.

(Warning: Features an unreliable Drama Queen as a narrator and poor Obi-Wan failing to avoid eating Anakin’s cooking)

The first time it happens, it’s just Obi-Wan indulging Anakin.  They’re both tired, stressed, and overworked -- not to mention, frustrated at being grounded due to ‘administrative matters’ when they should be with their men in the field.  Anakin in particular is having a hard time of it, having taken several heavy losses recently; Padme isn’t even on Coruscant just then, which means he‘s trapped in the Temple without anyone to re-direct his frustrated protective instincts towards.

.. except Obi-Wan.

Who is, Anakin is realizing with some horror, not good at taking care of himself.  He’s… pretty sure it wasn’t this bad when he was still Obi-Wan’s padawan?  … but, truth be told, even before being Knighted, he hadn’t spent much of their rare time on Coruscant in the Temple -- he had Padme to see!  So he’s… he’s just not sure how long this has been going on.

The problem is this: they’ve been back in the Temple for two days, and he’s not sure Obi-Wan has actually eaten a full meal - he keeps putting plates into Obi-Wan’s hands, assuming everything is good, only to later find said plate abandoned on a side table, scarcely a few bites missing.  And if Obi-Wan has slept more than a handful of hours since they touched down, Anakin will eat his own utility belt - instead, Obi-Wan has had upwards of fourteen hours in meetings, taught several classes, and, apparently, almost caught up on a backlog of Council paperwork.

It’s -- not okay.  And nobody else seems to care.  This is Anakin’s Master, one of the greatest -- probably the greatest -- Jedi in the Order, and apparently it’s just okay with everyone else that he’s working himself to death, walking around looking like barely warmed bantha poodoo, as if nobody else can take care of all of these stupid little details, like paperwork could ever possibly matter more than his Master???

He tries to settle it reasonably.  Really!

“Obi-Wan-- don’t you think you ought to use this time in the Temple to rest up?  Before we get sent back out?”  He asks that night, carefully calm, when Obi-Wan finally returns to their quarters.  Obi-Wan is reading a padd even as he walks in, and doesn’t seem to notice Anakin steering him firmly toward the kitchen table, where a very full plate is waiting for him.

“Hm?  Oh, of course, Anakin, yes, of course,” Obi-Wan answers absently, padd still in hand.  It’s hard to tell in the dim evening light, but Anakin thinks there are extra lines at the corner of his yes, and is his skin looking grey? Even his hair seems kind of dull, not so much flopping as wilting forward into his face as he sits, like it doesn’t even have the energy to stay in place.

It’s awful.

“So you’re going to take tomorrow off, right?”  He presses, anxiety spiking.  Obi-Wan needs to rest up while they can -- he can’t go back out into the field like this.  Anakin can’t believe Obi-Wan is being like this!  It’s so irresponsible.  Doesn’t Obi-Wan know that’s how stupid mistakes happen?  Doesn’t Obi-Wan know that Anakin needs him to stay safe??

“Hm?”  Still focused on the padd.

“Tomorrow!  You’re going to take off, right?”

“-- tomorrow?  I suppose I…”  Obi-Wan finally looks up from the padd and trails off, seemingly perplexed to find himself in the kitchen.  He seems even more perplexed by the plate in front of him, setting down the padd to pick up a fork and poke hesitantly at Anakin’s offering.  “... er.  This is rather a lot of… ah.  What is it exactly?”

“It’s a Tatooine specialty!  My-- I used to have it a lot.  As a kid.”  Anakin settles back into his own seat, satisfied; ‘I suppose’ is enough, for now.  He scoops up a generous forkful and shovels it into his mouth, chewing happily; a little crunch, just like he remembers!

“... ah.”  Across the table, Obi-Wan sighs heavily before lifting a forkful to his mouth slowly.  Anakin is totally right; Obi-Wan needs a break.

--

So of course Anakin catches Obi-Wan trying to sneak out before dawn the following morning.

“What the -- Anakin?”  Obi-Wan asks, sleepy and befuddled, when Anakin pops into his path, triumph mixing with vicious frustration as he notes that Obi-Wan has put his robes on incorrectly -- the middle tunic is crossed right over left instead of left over right!  If there has ever been a clearer sign of an impending breakdown, Anakin doesn’t know it.  “What are you--?!!?”

It really isn’t quite fair -- even taken off guard and not firing on all cylinders, Obi-Wan puts up a decent amount of resistance.  But Anakin has him at a significant disadvantage -- namely, that he’s not on the verge of an exhaustion induced collapse, so it’s only takes a few moments of confused manhandling before Anakin manages to herd him back into his room and tip him forward onto the bed.

“Anakin--!”

Sithspit, his Master really is contrary.  Anakin dodges an elbow, struggling to maintain his perch on Obi-Wan’s back as the other man twists, and wonders what the hell he’s supposed to do now.  Excellent planning as usual, Skywalker, he thinks bitterly, and then -- spots it.  One of Obi-Wan’s date-jime sashes, thrown carelessly, and uncharacteristically, on top of the low bookshelf by the bed.

A Force tug puts into his hands, and it’s only a few moments of work to wrestle Obi-Wan’s hands up; a few quick loops and two hasty knots are all he has time to manage before Obi-Wan finally throws him off.  Still, from his new spot at the foot of the bed, he can’t help the triumphant grin as Obi-Wan goes to sit up and-- can’t.

“-- what--?” Obi-Wan twists onto his back, but his arms are, perforce, still stretched above his head, wrists wrapped together and secured to the headboard.  He looks irate, tilting his head back to examine what Anakin has done and tugging at his wrists experimentally, before dropping his gaze back to Anakin, face thunderous.

“You said you were going to take the day off!” Anakin blurts in panic, before his Master can even demand an explanation.  Obi-Wan’s mouth is already open to deliver what Anakin is sure would have been a blistering reprimand; but, at this, Obi-Wan pauses, eyebrows furrowing slightly above bright blue eyes, outraged Force presence sliding into confusion.  

“-- and -- you really need-- to-- … take it easy?” Anakin offers, hesitantly.  Obi-Wan’s lips thin, and Anakin quails slightly, despite himself.  But he-- he needs Obi-Wan to agree.  He can’t deal with Obi-Wan going back out into the field like this.  What if something happens?  What if-- “Master--”  He manages, throat tight, and Obi-Wan, abruptly, tries to sit up again, only to be caught short by the sash, as though he’d forgotten it was there.  His lips press together again, bloodless, and Anakin hunches in on himself slightly without meaning to, shoulders rising up around his ears as he realizes how badly he’s fucked this up, gaze dropping to the comforter.

“-- so you decided to tie me to the bed?”  His Master demands, after a few moments, polished voice just slightly incredulous, and Anakin’s shoulders hitch up a little further.

“... yes?  I mean, I didn’t -- decide, exactly?  It was just there!  And-- at least you don’t can’t be expected to do any paperwork this way.  Right?”  Right?  Even Obi-Wan can’t actually want to do paperwork… can he?

“Anakin… somebody has to--”

“But does it have to be you?!”  Anakin demands, furious, and looks up to find Obi-Wan regarding him steadily.  “You already do everything -- you’re on the front, and the Council, and they’re always sending you off on the worst missions -- can’t they do some of their own work?!”

Obi-Wan is still staring at Anakin like he’s a puzzle that Obi-Wan can’t quite figure out; which is stupid, because Obi-Wan is the smartest person that Anakin knows, and anyway, there isn’t anything to figure out -- Anakin just wants Obi-Wan to take the day off.  Anakin frowns and drops his gaze back to the comforter, pushing down a peak of cresting unhappiness, and picks at a free thread.  Maybe he will go to Padme’s, after all, even though she’s not there; Obi-Wan probably isn’t going to want Anakin around after he’s done yelling at him.

A sudden huff of laughter takes Anakin by surprise, a sudden, sharp spike of amusement spilling out through the Force. and he looks up in time to see Obi-Wan collapse back onto the bed, eyes cast toward the ceiling in apparent incredulity.

“... Master?”  Anakin asks cautiously, confused.

“What?”  Obi-Wan asks; he sounds irritated and amused, a combination with which Anakin is unfortunately familiar.  Better than angry, but...

“... what are you doing?”  Anakin can’t help but ask, and Obi-Wan snorts out a short laugh, sounding, impossibly, fond.

“What does it look like, my young padawn?  Nothing.”  Obi-Wan rolls his eyes at the ceiling, then shakes his bound wrists and cranes his head to give Anakin a significant look.  “After all, I’m all. tied. up.”

Oh.

“... I do trust that you had a plan, Anakin, when you decided that I needed to take the day off?”

Oh!

“Yes, Master!  I mean-- yes, I did!  I do!”  Anakin assures, hastily, sliding off the bed and edging toward the bedroom door quickly; he can feel the disbelieving smile spreading over his face, and he doesn’t want a lecture.  He’s got breakfast to make!

--

Anakin spends all day hand feeding Obi-Wan tea and treats and is over the moon.  Obi-Wan takes it all with a long-suffering, slightly amused air; though it’s obvious that he’s actually quite touched when Anakin brings in the tray of carefully brewed, small cups of specialty tea samples that he’d been saving for Obi-Wan’s next Name Day, eyes going momentarily wide before directing an astonished, uncomplicated smile up at Anakin that, honestly, leaves Anakin a little shaky.  It’s just -- been a while since Obi-Wan looked like that, much less at Anakin.

Later, Anakin finds one of Obi-Wan’s terrifically boring treatises and reads it to him, perched carefully next to Obi-Wan on the bed.  He unties Obi-Wan’s wrists after Obi-Wan falls asleep (it doesn’t take long; Anakin isn’t sure if it’s sleep deprivation or the treatise -- it really is just that boring) but Anakin might, possibly, spend the next few hours watching him sleep, happy and grounded in a way he hasn’t been in a long time.

Obi-Wan looks better than he has in months when he slowly wakes a few hours later, hazy and blurred but happy through the Force, directing a soft smile up at Anakin like he’s not surprised at all to find him still there, like he’s glad Anakin is still there, the ease of it all so unexpected that Anakin smiles back without meaning to, without censoring it, and it’s too happy, too affectionate, too attached and he knows Obi-Wan is going to chide him, knows he shouldn’t, but...

Obi-Wan doesn’t.  Doesn’t frown, doesn’t say anything, doesn’t even seem to realize that Anakin has done anything wrong at all.  Just continues to smile softly, thoughts still buzzing in muted, sleepy contentment, and rolls a little, tucking himself against Anakin’s side, eyes drifting closed again slowly.

(and it becomes a habit, something they don’t exactly discuss, but sometimes...)

[mudkipthemusical-blog]

Music of the Month: April 2017

I had next to no expectations for music I’d find this month, but even with that, I managed to find some highly intriguing and even powerful stuff. Looking back on everything, my picks for this month are very much on the “chill” side, which is a happy accident considering how I’ve been in the tail end of my semester and working my butt off. Otherwise, there’s a nice mix of genres as always, but there is one big difference this time around: I ran into my first tie for album of the month, which I’ll cut right to:

Albums of the Month: Inside Out (Original Motion Picture Soundtrack) by Michael Giacchino…

…and Strangers by Balto

First off, let me just say that both of these works of cover art are amazing. Next, while these two albums are stylistically quite different, they each equally appeal to my tastes and they’re each so strong all the way through. Inside Out feeds my love for film score (and especially my Michael Giacchino kick), and in that, it fit in just the right notch between the different and the familiar. I love Michael Giacchino’s work because of how much he plays with recurring themes, and this album is no stranger to that strategy (nor is it a stranger to his knack for puns, wink wink), but the orchestration took this score in particular to another level for me. There’s such a wonderful blend of conventional strings and piano along with less conventional ones like the bells that give the entire score such an ethereal sound; it’s exactly what I thought it would sound like to live inside a brain. This is best represented on tracks like “Bundle of Joy” and “Abstract Thought.” …But for one last touch, I nearly lost it when I was listening to it while doing homework in the library and I discovered the trollish surprise at the end of the last track. I won’t spoil the fun for you, but if you’ve seen Inside Out, you’ll know what I’m talking about when you get to it. (sinister giggles)

Strangers feeds my love of indie rock and complex lyrics. Admittedly, I was primarily interested in the band because of their namesake, Balto the sled dog, whose heroic story was adapted into my childhood favorite movie. Logically, if I liked that so much, I should like the band, and luckily I did, but that's beside the point. The way I see it, this is the perfect music to have playing in the background at a barbecue. The overall vibe is so laid-back and pleasing to help you relax and have fun, but there's still plenty of substance to keep you interested. It helps that the general mix is so solid, and the lead singer's voice has such a nice color to it; it has just enough bite to it to snag your attention, but it's still warm enough to keep it from being too distracting. My standout tracks here were "Restless Generation," "Star of Bethlehem," and "A Year Lasts a Lifetime." While "Star of Bethlehem," is a super-mellow, toned-down ballad, the other two are uptempo jams with some pretty relatable and/or thought-provoking lyrics ("Everybody shuts off one way or another babe, you know it's true") that fit the barbecue aesthetic perfectly. Overall, it's nice not having too much stimulus in this album. I love being able to kick back, relax, and just take in the atmosphere. …Although, all this barbecue talk is giving me hamburger cravings.

5 Great Songs from this Month:

“Can’t Help Falling in Love” as performed by Pentatonix

I could write a book detailing my love for Pentatonix, but this cover of theirs in particular brings up a good point I have to make about them. While they’re such innovators in the a capella world (see “Daft Punk”), they know just when to dial it back and focus on rich harmonies. I already liked the original Elvis song, but this arrangement augments it in the best way possible. The blend of their voices sounds very innocent and vulnerable in a romantic way and the harmonies (oh gosh, the harmonies) left me waiting for every single word. I said before that I thought the cover of “Bohemian Rhapsody” that appeared on the same EP was a shoo-in for this list, but I found this just the slightest bit more polished. As great as Pentatonix is at transforming songs and making the most out of their limitations as a vocal group, this simple stuff that they do matters so much to me.

“Battle Scars” by Paradise Fears

I ran into this song via this AMV, which is a sentence I don’t think I’ve ever said before, but I’m still grateful that that’s how it happened. On the one hand, I love that AMV; it’s so beautifully drawn and it manages to pack so much emotion and meaning into a 30 second clip. On the other hand, the song itself is one of the most powerful ones I’ve heard in a while, and it came at a perfect time due to some personal struggles I’ve been having. It honestly makes me cry when I listen to it, but it does that in a way that motivates me. It’s a gorgeous reminder that no matter how difficult things may seem or no matter how far away the finish line may be, there’s always hope and there are always people to support you; even in the midst of fear and anxiety, everyone has the power to keep on going and make their way to greater things. It gives me the strength to keep marching on, what more can I say? My only complaint is that I’m a little bitter Apple Music will only let me stream a live version rather than the studio recording, but whatever form it’s in and whatever medium I encounter it through, I know this is a song that will stick with me for years to come. 

“Warm on a Cold Night” by HONNE

This song is like a perfect blend of the retro and the modern; while the production is very synth-heavy, right from the opening with the deep-voiced narrator, there’s this sense of classic swagger to set the mood to grab your attention. This altogether with HONNE’s voice creates this incredibly, for the lack of a better word, sexy aesthetic. As a tune, it’s minimalist, but you just have to appreciate the production value that went into the recording. Like the songs from Strangers, I like how it feels like there’s a lot going on, but you can still kick back and take it all in; you don’t need everything turned up to 12 to have an enjoyable listen.

“Hey Mami” by Sylvan Esso

This tune has a pretty similar aesthetic to that of “Warm on a Cold Night,” but that didn’t really occur to me at first because I discovered it via my university’s all-female a capella group. I liked that the recording was this simple a capella groove supporting the poetry in the melody, and later was pleasantly surprised when the synth bass dropped after the first verse. The texture still feels very simple, but that clash between the synth and the voices works so well. Going back to the poetry, the story’s about being catcalled and reacting to it, which is a pretty uncommonly covered topic in itself, and the lyrical delivery feels so rapid-fire and constantly flowing, which kept me intrigued. For a pop tune, it’s just so unique, and I love finding new flavors like this one’s.

“LOVE. (FEAT. ZACARI)” by Kendrick Lamar

I’ve been very recently trying to get into hip hop because it was never really a genre that I was interested in before. In particular, I’ve been interested in Kendrick Lamar because one of my good friends is a huge fan of his, and while it was just before I joined Tumblr, I had listened to To Pimp a Butterfly and was blown away by the sheer amount of artistry and power that went into it. Naturally, I wanted to see how Kendrick could’ve topped that with DAMN., and while I have to be honest in that I didn’t like it as much as To Pimp a Butterfly it was still great! This track in particular surprised me because every other song on DAMN. felt so harsh and intense, whereas this felt a lot more vulnerable and sentimental. It may be more pop than hip hop, but it’s such a beautiful package with the beat and the back-and-forth of Kendrick and Zacari’s voices. Just hearing Kendrick sing “I wanna be with you” makes me smile, and I appreciate getting to hear a different side from him, even for only one track.

As I mentioned, I’ve been managing the end of my semester, and all of these picks were all great ways to relax, whether I was playing them in the background while studying or taking a break and listening to them more seriously. All of these, except for the Pentatonix track maybe the Inside Out album since I’ve been working my way through the archives of Disney/Pixar score, weren’t expected either, which made it fun! May is going to be another one of those months, which ought to be exciting, but I’m expecting at least 3 big album releases already for June, I’m not quite sure how to feel on that front. Either way, until next month (and hopefully not days into it)!