Dec 25, 2019
An Archive of Our Own, a project of the Organization for Transformative Works
@littlelovegod yeehaw my beets.
seen from T1
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An Archive of Our Own, a project of the Organization for Transformative Works
@littlelovegod yeehaw my beets.
which song on the stokourt playlist will i have to delete in order to fit katy perry's e.t. on there and still have 69 songs
stoker cover santa baby right now kkl;kshsjsjhsl
god court and his technojazz chords to compliment, a hard-on the whole time,
@swim-dog heard u wanted some stokourt for ur b-day....
aril, contacting her goddess to try and find stoker: o caverna, will you please offer your divine assistance in helping me locate my lost acquaintance, the gloxnob-hailing yevkar stoker chaudfroid?
caverna, zooming directly in on this stoker dressed in brand new silk rags, knelt on the floor and about to blow one of the nine great eternals of the universe, forerunners of life, ever-lasting and resplendent, in an elevator while a vaporwave remix of purple stain by the red hot chili peppers is playing:
caverna: uh, no, sorry, can't help you
@littlelovegod
@littlelovegod ah hah... little stokourt bit under the cut while i stall to write chap 7
Stoker had Court's hand interlaced gently through his hair; Stoker had Court's lipstick smeared on his body in seemingly random bursts. Hot-cold fingers, indeterminable in their sensation, branching out from the Eternal's spare hand to rest on his thigh.
From above, the lights- magenta and white, interspersed throughout the ceiling- cast strange shadows from varying angles, highlighting or dimming the strangest things. Court wriggled his wrist, nail polish glimmering when the tips of his fingers shifted further up on the Yevkar's leg.
Stoker wore nothing but a smile, turning himself so his lips connected with the other's, further smudging the Yevkar's face with teal makeup. Tastes mingling now; drug-laced champagne, some unnameable sugar from the previous meal, remarkably pungent smoke from Aciubian seaweed- and everything in between, idiosyncratic flavors that did not need a title.
It was Court who pulled away first, still kindly handling his guest's scalp. "Mmm... You're doing, ah, just fantastic, you know that?"
"You flatter me."
The Eternal himself wore very little as well, save the half-off and unbuttoned robe, save the crooked smile. Even that peculiar covering, the dark wrapping that often clandestinely covered his midriff- tossed upon the carpet, glinting faintly.
A perfect scene.
Court appraised him, giving the green skin of the Yevkar's thigh a tender squeeze. "Tell me, supernova, dearest. Again?"
The smile did not leave Stoker's lips, only widened. "Again."
Court started to move, signaling the beginning of another bout of intimacy.
Yes, an ideal situation.
Splendid.
@littlelovegod according to writer the internet typewriter ‘welcome to funale’ is 22 pages and we’ve barely started
eve, rushing into stoker’s room: wAKE UP SLEEPYHEAD!!!
stoker, sitting up in his bed: wh-uh-... what’s goin’ on-
court, sitting up further from behind him: fuck, man,
eve, absolutely shocked: ooh WHOA WH-