i found a phoebe and I’m so happy
noise dept.
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@sibellicious
i found a phoebe and I’m so happy
Seduce My Muse
Send them pictures, whisper in their ear, show off for them. Do anything and everything in your power to get them hot and bothered and see how my muse reacts.
Why is this Sibs.
Project Broadway - Week 1: The Tony Awards
Favourite Unconventional Relationship + A Gentleman’s Guide to Love and Murder - Sibella x Monty x Phoebe
{ originally posted by magnoliamemes, who has deactivated }
Send for your muse to do one of the following to mine.
Carries, bridal style.
Kisses cheek.
Tickles sides.
Growls at
Tackles to the ground.
Slaps.
Cries in front of.
Holds and refuses to let go.
Protects.
KICKS.
Bites.
Holds hand.
Winks at.
Steals a kiss.
Dances with.
stabs.
Yells at
stares at.
Sniffs.
pats head.
Pins down.
Blocks their exit.
Glares at.
attacks.
gives flowers.
sings to.
proposes to.
gazes into their eyes.
blushes at.
asks out on a date.
breaks up with.
runs away from (flustered)
chases.
begs for forgiveness.
rejects them.
Sneaks up on.
gets caught following them.
Hides from
Scares them.
comforts them.
headbutts
nose boop.
forehead flick.
runs away with.
shares a treat.
flirts with.
BADLY, flirts with.
breaks down in front of them.
Cuddles with.
shoves away.
pulls in closer.
leans in to kiss but then stops themselves.
Tries to confess their feelings but chickens out.
reads to them
whispers into their ear
Invades personal space.
tries to make them laugh.
apologies to.
trips them.
catches them.
eyes them up and down.
smirks at
rolls eyes at
playfully shoves.
Alexandr Averin (Russian, b. 1952). Oil on canvas.
"Honeyed words are all well and good, and yet sometimes poison lingers beneath the surface of the speaker's tongue." (From Sibs to Orpheus) (hi I don't know what I'm doing but I want to try out an interaction between Orpheus and Sibs, okay bye.)
The look Orpheus fixes on her is pleasant but BLANK for a moment, as he tries to work out what she’s getting at. Him? His music? “Sometimes true, I suppose,” he murmurs while his fingers pick at the strings of his guitar in idle melody. He’s smiling, still a bit bewildered by her words and the caution she exhibits, but welcoming Sibella to let the walls drop and enjoy herself. “But sometimes it’s only honey. Only sweet. … If it’s not to your liking, I can play something bitter.” And so saying, he strikes a chord and lets it hang, long and dark and rich — D minor, old standby of melancholy! He feels a bit of a pang himself, just at the sound, and resolves for the pleasure of his own ear to the major. “But wouldn’t you rather it were an honest joy? Can’t you see how that might be?”
She resists the urge to roll her eyes at his endless optimism, his ability to see the good in anything. A bitter taste fills her mouth, much like the note that hangs in the air from his instrument but she swallows it back down with a cautious hesitant smile.
A hand goes to her hair, her fingers rubbing and twirling gently around her locks of blonde hair as she thinks on an answer.
“Honest joys can turn into disguised murmurs of discontent soon enough,” she muses softly. “Play me something else, Orpheus,” she asks, her hand coming to hold up her chin. “A tragic love ballad perhaps, for all my loves seem to end in tragedy.”
She glances up at him, a flicker of vulnerability crosses across her sapphire irises as she waits for the music to fill her ear and the air with its sweet but sad sound.
Modern Au Sibs would love Downton Abbey, and her favorite character would be Mary Crawley.
Sybil reminds her of Phoebe and she sobs horribly when Sybil dies after the birth of her child.
A sharp breath in, almost a gasp leaves her lips at the admission of this man that her husband is proud of his indiscretions, and more-so proud of the fact that he hides such a fact from her.
Her anger swells within her, and she has half a mind to storm in there and rage and seethe at him until she finds herself out of breath, until she threatens divorce, until she divulges into her own indiscretions with Monty, to show him that he is not the only one not being faithful in this marriage.
She wants nothing more than to watch Lionel’s face crumble with humiliation as she announces the very true fact that she has been sleeping with Monty behind his back.
Nails dig into her palm, the half crescent moon marks sting but bring her back to reality.
Speechless, she’s truly speechless and has nothing to say to this man who Lionel has found to pass the time with.
She wants him out of her sight immediately, for every glance towards him is a reminder of the fact that Lionel is proud of his relations with this man, of fooling her, of pretending to be a faithful husband to her while screwing this man in the dead of night when she’s out.
Her ego wounded, her heart aches, and yet she does not utter a hateful word to this man who tells her of her husband’s affair, although she sorely wants to.
She knows she’ll gain nothing from casting him away.
“How long?” she doesn’t feel the need to finish the question, surely he can assume, surely he can see that she is brimming with rage and does not need to spell everything out for him.
why did we ever stop writing Like That, like now it’s all “he looked at her with longing” like!!! what happened to “he gazed at her, pain in his eyes, heart twisting with every beat, and felt that if she did not look back he might never truly know happiness again” WHY DO WE WRITE IN NORMAL LENGTH SENTENCES NOW!!! BRING BACK PARAGRAPH LONG SENTENCES! BRING BACK THE UNINTELLIGIBLE!!! MAKE OSCAR WILDE PROUD BITCH!!!!!
anyway make ur writing so complicated and lavish that i have to spend a week working out what one sentence means please xoxo
i love talking headcanons over ships with partners. even if it’s something that may never happen, i just love the discussion of the ship regardless. literally talking for hours in cap locks over two muses you care for so much is amazing. and it makes you feel good knowing your partner is as dedicated as you are and thinks about your two muses in different situations too.
me: *does one reply*
some one word prompts . ( send one of the words for our muses to interact based off that word )
goodbye : my muse kissing and/or hugging your muse goodbye.
secrets : my muse sharing/confiding their deepest, darkest secret with your muse.
nightmare : my muse coming to your muses aid when they awake from a nightmare.
push : my muse pushing your muse out of the way of danger.
embrace : my muse abruptly throwing their arms around your muse, hugging them tightly.
bloody : my muse coming to your muse with blood stains on their clothes and hands, shaking.
drunk : my muse takes care of your muse while they are in a drunken state.
bed : my muse wakes up in the same bed as your muse with little recollection of the night before.
slap : my muse slaps your muse across the face out of anger.
gone : my muse stays by your muses side while they take their last breath.
scream : my muse hears your muse scream and quickly runs to their side.
sleep : my muse falls asleep on your muse, making it hard for my muse to leave.
stalk : my muse gets caught by your muse trailing behind them, watching them.
sacrifice : my muse jumps in front of your muse, sacrificing their life for your muses life.
trail : my muse watches as your muse traces one of my muses scares, asking them about it.
love : my muse confronts your muse about why they never say ’ i love you ’ back.
piggyback : my muse jumps on your muses back, my muse gives yours a piggyback ride.
jump : my muse runs to your muse and jumps up, my muse holding yours up by their thighs.
dance : my muse holds their hand out, waiting for your muse to come out and slow dance with them.
carry : my muse carries your muse to their house, either drunk, or a weakened state, can specify.
lighter : my muse pulls out a lighter and lights it for your muse to use to light their cigarette.
shot : my muse gets shot and struggles to your muses house for aid.
wound : my muse patches and bandages a wound your muse has gotten.
fight : my muse stops your muse from getting into a physical fight with someone else.
arrest : your muse finds my muse arrested in cuffs with swarming police everywhere.
hospital : my muse awakens in a hospital, finding your muse by their side, asking what happened.
gun : my muse pulls out a gun on your muse, your muse tries to talk them into putting the gun down.
betrayal : my muse finds out that your muse has betrayed them in same way and confronts them about it.
nude : my muse walks in on your muse accidentally seeing them naked.
karaoke : my muse pulls your muse up on stage with them to sing some karaoke songs.
laughter : my muse hears your muse laughing uncontrollably and approaches to see if they are okay.
murder : my muse walks in on your muse committing a gruesome murder.
wet : my muse strips down to their under garments and runs into the water, motioning for your muse to join them.
When the morning light breaks through her curtains, Sibella is reminded of the guest that is currently in her home, for in her deep sleep she regrets to admit that she had forgotten about him.
The maids come in, and help her dress, a pink gown would suit just fine.
She comes down the stairs quietly as if not to wake her guest, a hand rising to brush back her stray loose curls.
A glance towards the window tells her the storm is gone, and of that she is glad, for surely anymore rain would cause the grass to flood and Lionel would be most furious at that. Her husband was all about appearances, more-so than herself. The appearance of a happy marriage, the appearance of a happy wife.
She turns towards the kitchen, to make herself a cup of tea, for the servants never do correctly she should really fire the whole lot of them, when she finds her guest sitting in the parlor room.
“Oh. You’re awake,” she surmises, “I hadn’t realized. Shall I call for breakfast?”