#apologies!

[tswiftupdatess]

The ''seven'' interlude has been removed from The Eras Tour (May 9, 2024)

[ohtobealady]

🧡 for Cobert please! :)

Hi sweets. I started this mobile-written Drabble a million years ago. Under the cut for mature content.

🧡 kissing in bed / lazy kiss / cuddling

Her head hurt. She closed her eyes and lifted her chin away from her book to try to relieve herself of it, if only for a moment while she waited, but could not.

No. Today had been too much for the small, two glasses of wine she’d had at dinner to dissolve her irritation away. Instead, the tannins and alcohol worked together to swell her thoughts until they were pounding inside her with her pulse.

She took in a long deep breath and exhaled, trying to push out her headache with it. Again, to no avail. No, no. She’d wanted it to be a simple affair, their 34th anniversary, something intimate and quiet, just for the two of them … but it, like the headache, had bloomed out of control.

Cora brushed the corner of the pages in her grasp, not really reading the book anymore. Instead she listed, again, each little irritation that had eaten away at her expectations for this evening: Lady Anstruther—a woman Cora felt devoured the energy in every space she was in, leaving none for anyone else; Baxter—her confession doing nothing more than confusing Cora to no end, Barrow only complicating the confusion; and Robert—most of all Robert. The toast he’d given had been sweet, but Cora was no fool. Of course it had been his attempt at inspiring thoughts of marriage in the young Tony Gillingham.

Decidedly not reading any longer, she closed her book, and leaning, slid it onto her side table. She looked at her clock; it was half-midnight now, and Cora was tired. She nestled further into her bed, but left the lamp on—she wanted to wait for him, to … well it was their anniversary. If nothing else she’d like to wish him a good night, but where was he?

Again, her thoughts trickled downward pooling around darker places in her tired mind. She’d last seen him stomping away from her. What had she said? How was she to know Miss Bunting would rile him so? She didn’t approve of Miss Bunting’s words, but—

“I’m sorry I’ve taken so long.”

Cora startled. She hadn’t realized she’d closed her eyes, either, and she forced herself to sit up again in her bed to see him. “Oh, that’s alright.”

“I had another drink. I’ll just call Bates and be right in.”

Another, Cora’s thoughts echoed him, and she found herself tallying the number she’d seen him imbibe. “It may be very late for Bates.”

“He hasn’t gone, and I won’t be long,” he answered her as he went through, and when he closed the dividing door, Cora relaxed again against her pillow and sighed.

He didn’t appear particularly amourous, and for the briefest moment Cora wondered if she wouldn’t be better off just falling asleep to wait for one of his better moods. But then would it only upset him further? She didn’t want that. She had wanted today to be nice. She’d wanted today to be so much nicer, for him to be so much happier, than it was turning out to be.

In the dim light, she straightened her nightdress and pulled a little at her braid to smooth down the unruliness of some of her curls. Then she waited. As she waited, her thoughts grew shapes and colors, painting images of what Robert would see when he came in: a tired woman in a plain nightgown waiting submissively. She didn’t want that. She wanted him to know she … but he knew she still desired him, didn’t he? Cora pushed her thought away on her exhale.

Very well. She lifted herself. Something happy to end on.

She tiredly swung her legs from her warm blankets, February chill biting at her feet as she slipped them back inside her house shoes. She shuffled quickly to where she’d draped her dressing gown—the end of her chaise—and shivering once, put it on herself. She’d hurry.

She bent to see her reflection in the dressing table mirror, squinted, turned on her lamp, and looked again.

Oh, dear. She carefully tugged at the skin sagging there at her tired eyes, and pulled in a steadying breath. Oh no, no. She wasn’t the bright-eyed, nineteen-year-old woman who Robert had first lain with thirty-four years before. Cora touched the thinner skin at her neck and cheeks and shook uglier thoughts away. Neither is he the twenty-four-year old man, she reminded herself kindly.

She took her perfume, tapped the excess from the glass stick, and pressed it to behind her left ear and then right.

She stood, stepped back, and opened her dressing gown to see herself. She’d not thought to ask for a prettier nightgown, but of course that didn’t matter. Dipping again to the mirror, she bit color back into her lips, pinched very quickly at her cold cheeks, and padded back to bed. It was silly, of course; she was silly. But all the same.

She’d only just pulled her coverlet over her once more when, at last, Robert reentered.

Cora smiled at him, lifting her chin, and while he offered a small, quick smile in return, Cora noted his distraction. She noticed, too, how he switched off her dressing table lamp she’d forgotten she’d left on, and then tossed a glance up at her.

She smiled at him again. “Come to bed,” she attempted to say as alluringly as possible, in spite of the tired creaking of her voice.

Robert, though, only nodded. He disrobed, came to the bed, fell in heavily, and then nearly immediately rolled to her. “You aren’t too tired?”

She blinked. “Are you?”

But he didn’t respond, at least not with words. Instead he dipped his head to her cheek and pressed quick kisses there before he propped himself up again and looked down at her.

“Your scent. Is it new?”

Cora parted her lips to speak and drew in a breath, her face warming. “No—“

“—oh.” But Robert’s face didn’t change. He still looked down at her, brows slightly furrowed. “It’s quite strong.”

“Is it?” The warmth Cora felt burned into embarrassment.

“Yes. I didn’t notice before.”

“Well I …” she paused when Robert lifted himself further up and away from her. “I dabbed a little more on just a moment ago. I can wash it if it bothers you.”

“But why would you put more on before bed?” His low laughter made the burning embarrassment feel like a fever—an anger— and Cora pushed out a forced chuckle.

“I don’t know,” she said quickly enough to hide whatever emotion was caught in her throat. “I thought it may be nice. I can wash it.”

Robert shook his head. “No, no.” He adjusted himself slightly, lower, pushing her to her back. Cora watched him as he closed his eyes and kissed her mouth. “Now then.”

And at his words, Cora felt his hand lift the silky hem of her nightdress, then felt as he clumsily pushed forward and touched her body. When his fingers met her skin, she saw his brow bob up.

“No underthings? It’s rather cold.”

Cora shook her head, moving her hips slightly, and forced another smile.

Robert only hummed, pressing harder against her. She swallowed, moved again, and then shook her head. “A bit …”

“Am I hurting you?”

“No, no. Only … perhaps a bit gentler?”

He hummed again. “Apologies.” And then they were silent, the fire flickering and crackling as her husband touched at her most private places, places only he had ever touched her this way, places he’d touched her for thirty-four years, and yet … oh, were they both just too tired? Had the evening been that exhausting? The day?

She wanted to. Cora wanted to finish this day, their anniversary, the way she’d longed for it to be all along. The two of them. Happy.

She looked back up at her husband, his face nearly touching her own, his eyes looking down at her still-clothed body, then closing as he made his circles against her gender, his breath steady and even. There were lines gathering between his pinched brow.

At the first small hint of pleasure, there also came a rush of disappointment, but she refused to think why. She pushed her hand down between them, pushing past his pajama waistband to find him, and when she discovered him soft, she sighed and smiled at him. She touched him the way she knew to do, the way that he liked, the way she learned he’d liked over their decades together. But when minutes grew thicker and heavier and there was no change, she kissed his cheek.

“We don’t have to,” she whispered. “It’s been a long day.”

“Cora—“ He dipped his chin, looking down beneath the covers at where his arm bunched up her dress, where her arm still held him, and when he spoke next his voice was quieter. “Don’t make me feel ashamed.”

“Ashamed? Darling—“

“I want to.”

She pushed the stiff air from her chest, nodded, and thought of him thirty-four years before. She thought of their shared embarrassment then, the unsure brushes of fingertips and shared triumph they’d felt at accomplishing their task. She thought of how he’d whispered to her how he’d not wanted to hurt her—how it almost echoed what he’d said just moments ago, decades later—and how though so much time separated then and now, it was almost somehow the same.

Cora felt suddenly softer, and she pressed her nose to his, stroking him with her hand beneath his waistband. She pressed her lips to his, and nodded again. “So do I,” she whispered back, and met him in another kiss. Soft and tender and real.

“Mm,” his lips moved into a small smile of thanks against hers. He kissed her again, and Cora let herself begin to relax beneath him as he began to stiffen in her grasp.

She couldn’t help the breath of a laugh that whispered between them, and Robert shook his head. He smiled again.

It had begun performative, of course, to mark the day. It was nearly like the duty of so many times before, like the party that had grown into something Cora hadn’t liked at all. But now this was for them, and her husband was touching her, his fingers slowly finding entry, and she wanted it. She brought both her hands to his face, then, his neck, the curls at the back of his head, and she parted her lips against his.

“Oh, darling—“ he said into her mouth. “I—“

—a shout. On the gallery. But what …

Robert jerked his head away from her, and Cora looked at him as he turned his ear to the sound. What had —

“Fire!” the voice shouted again, closer, and Robert, his eyes wide, pushed himself up and away from her, her nightdress catching on his hand only a moment as he nearly leapt from her bed.

“Oh, God.”

Cora hardly had time to sit up by the time Robert had managed his housecoat. She hardly had time to register what word the voice had shouted. Fire? A fire?

Oh, my God. “Robert!” she gasped as he swung upon her doors, “the children! The nursery!”

“I’ll get them! Come!”

He ran from her room, his house coat fluttering behind him.

[kithtaehyung]

hi, loves🥺🍊 update: i’m doing okay! finally finished a big event that i’ll update you on later when i’m less tired and exhausted ahaha. but just know that life has been good and i’m fine🥳

[honourablejester]

Nick Valentine, at the end of his personal quest, after an extremely emotional thank you: That is, if you’re still interested in travelling together. Wouldn’t blame ya if you wanted some time on your own after this.

Me, vibrating, viscerally wishing to scoop up the robot man, shake him like a maraca until the self-loathing falls out, and then hug him for approximately 400 years: Come here, you bloody idiot, I’m never leaving you alone ever again.

God, this robot man is a lot of work (this quest dragged us across the entire map, including into a three-way firefight in Quincy between the Brotherhood, Supermutants, and Gunners, and another three-way firefight in Natick between raiders, supermutants, and a random deathclaw), but I love him with all my heart.

Every time we play Fallout 4, I promise we’re going to take a different companion around (and we have, for short bursts, this time we got Piper to full approval), but I just … I really love Nick? It’s fun travelling with the others, but …

Nick, honey. I will always be interested in travelling with you. Over and above anyone else in this goddamn game. Every time. Possibly to the annoyance of everyone in range. Heh.

Love is a battered synth detective with an existential crisis and a mean line of one liners, who knew?

[churchofthemimic]

Can I have compliments pretty please? I need supply. 🥺

[louistomlinsoncouk]

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louist91 The festival was amazing, loved seeing loads of you on the promo trip and now time to bring the tour to LATAM. See you there!

[bleaksqueak]

Surprise question!

If the cast of the Thorncroft brothers and Maia had to watch a kid, who's more responsible? Together or in different scenarios is fine.

Bonus: would Audric ever do a "take child to work day" thing?

Okay, so here’s the thing. I would trust Audric with my OWN hypothetical child if I had one. So, as it stands, I’d let him watch my rats. He is by far the most capable and responsible. He’d take a child to work, sure! Why not? He has fond memories of going with both mom and dad to their own respective offices… though maybe that’s because he was a small child being fawned over by coworkers, researchers and reapers alike,

The problem is that Elias, in a world where we entertain the thought that he would, would be great with kids— in the absolute worst way. It’s made worse by the fact that kids would enjoy his style of babysitting, since chaos may take the world. Do mot leave your child with Elias if you don’t want a feral return on your investment.

Maia already raised herself so she says that should count for her hypothetical already. She adds then to please not leave any children with her, she’s already losing precious hours at work and precious granules of her sanity as it is.

[the-abandoned-digital-city]

… hmm

I wonder, why I’m feeling so oddly nostalgic about something… oh. Please do remember you have the Digimental.

[marchand-masque]

psst,, wanna tell me about off (genuinely curious)(but i cant guarantee ill read it rn because m brain tired)

ahehe!! yes!! i will :]

off is a story about the batter, a man sent on a sacred mission to purify the world. you, while you control his movement, are a separate character :]

[clubgambit]

Lachlan sauntered into the room, offering the woman a lopsided smile, his eyes sparkling with a curiosity that was hard to smother. He stood in front of the microphone, looking to the woman for his cue. “I, Lachlan Summer, willingly accept my invitation into the Trial of Hearts.” The anticipation was evident in his voice, but so was a nearly imperceptible measure of fear. His body tingled, and his voice shook ever so slightly, but he blamed it on the adrenaline. 

“I enter with the full understanding that this is a game of absolutes: high risk, high reward.” He almost choked on that last, dreaded word. That was the goal, so why did it scare the shit out of him? Why was he so terrified of the best possible outcome? He knew he deserved it far more than the others. Maybe he just wouldn’t know what to do with victory. And would he even be able to recognize it, or would he still find some way to torture himself?

“I acknowledge that the Trial of Hearts may result in injury- physical, emotional, or psychological- and by speaking these words, I seal my fate.” He wasn’t worried. What more did he have to lose? It was then that the realization dawned on him: it did not specify that he would be hurt. Is he willing to put others in harm’s way for his own gain? And if he is- how is he any different from the people he claims to despise? Panic clawed up his throat, but he forced it back down, begging the carefree smirk to stay steady on his lips as he spoke the next words. "By continuing, I forfeit any right to retreat or regret." 

His facade of amusement curled into something more genuine, something that reeked of satisfaction. This next part was true. He had never been more fucking sure of anything in his life. “I accept that only one will rise victorious, and I declare myself worthy of that title.” Fate clamped its hands down on his shoulders, pushing him down, threatening to pull him under. He rose against the weight, straightening his back, winking at the woman, and walking silently out of the room. Only once he was out of view, did he let the heaviness win.

[superpyodan]

hello!! what's your twitter/bsky? I'd just like to follow you in other social media apart from tumblr since I love seeing your posts <3

hellooooo unfortunately my twt account is private because i’m a feral little goblin who doesn’t know how to shut the fuck up 😭😭😭 and i don’t use bluesky (i was on twitter years before elon took over and he’s gonna have to get rid of me by force while i’m kicking and screaming).

however i have an instagram (for art) and tiktok (mostly for bullshit) both of the same username, superpyodan!!!!!

let me know if you end up following my tiktok, i get a lot of notifs on there and i might not see it!!! <3 but ill follow u backkkkkk

[weednutz]

hai art request be upon ye:

tavros getting aaaall the bitches. all of them.

iT'S ME, GETTING ALL THE BITCHES,

[sometimeslapine]

Will you be doing commissions any time soon?

unfortunately not likely! tying sales to art does my brain bad

[challahbread]

imagine having a crush on a girl and she won’t shut up about the 42yo musician she has delusions of getting with… brah…

[louistomlinsoncouk]

Louis on stage in Tampa, FL - 14/7