#(note: not the roommate that has COVID a different roommate)
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lesboylycan · 11 months ago
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this just in, how to make your store-bought ramen (not the instant cupped noodle kind, the 3-minute kind) actually fill you up instead of just leaving you vaguely satisfied for an hour before you end up feeling hungrier than you were before eating it:
add 3 - 4 pieces of roast beef and/or 1 egg (put the egg in while the noodles are cooking just so it'll also cook thoroughly)
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fingertipsmp3 · 1 year ago
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Thinking some thoughts.
#so you know how my allergies are really bad right? well if you didn’t know; you know now#it varies year to year and place to place but this summer we’re at ‘two benadryl and still have itchy eyes and eczema’ levels#this spring/summer has been Bad. like really bad. i feel like all my body does is create mucus#which is gross and terrible BUT it has meant i’ve gotten pretty well acquainted with what my allergy symptoms are#with that in mind. throughout 2020-21 (and honestly probably the first half of 2022) i thought i had pretty vicious environmental allergies#at all times. to like.. idk dust? that was the only thing i could assume#because i would wake up every morning and immediately hack up a lung#i had a smoker’s cough basically all the time and it was the WORST time to have it. because y’know. global pandemic in which ‘dry hacking#cough’ was the main and most identifiable symptom#i kept telling people ‘i don’t have covid i have allergies’ and sounding ridiculous because it’d be like november#and the thing is i really genuinely did believe it bc it was really the only symptom i had or experienced#i never got a cold during that time period and my seasonal allergies weren’t that bad because uhhh *checks notes* i barely went out#THIS year though. my seasonal allergies are about as bad as they’ve ever been and THAT is making me realise a really interesting thing#i don’t cough. when i’m having an allergic reaction. my nose gets blocked and runny; my eyes stream and itch; my skin breaks out in hives#but i don’t cough or wheeze at ALL#now there’s still the possibility that i have a dust mite allergy and it presents differently to my seasonal allergies#but nothing has changed in my environment. it’s still the same level of dust. so why.. why would i no longer be coughing#i now present to you my theory. see; i was in paris in january of 2020 and i stayed in a 10 person hostel room because it was dirt cheap#and of my approximately 6 roommates (it wasn’t at full occupancy); about 3 were coughing#i went home and had a pretty bad cold which my mom caught from me and she wound up with complications (an ear infection)#and i proceeded to cough and wheeze every single morning and honestly a few times throughout the day. for the next 2.5 years#obviously i didn’t know about coronavirus back then and even when i found out about it a month or two later; i didn’t really suspect it#a couple of times i’ve joked with my mom ‘what if i was patient zero’ but no genuinely. what if i was#i never tested. there wasn’t even a test. what if i had long covid for two and a half years and thought it was a dust mite allergy#it’s suspicious!!!!#either way; if you need me i’m going to book a doctor’s appointment to see if i can get stronger antihistamines#i would really love to be able to sit outside without drowning in my own snot#personal
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mermaidsirennikita · 2 months ago
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Hiya! I currently have covid and am just feeling blue--do you have any super fun and super hot book recs? I'm trying to cheer myself up lol
Oh no, I'm sorry! COVID sucks. I didn't get it until right after Thanksgiving last year (and haven't gotten it again since) but it fucked me up quiiiiite a bit. I hope you feel better soon.
And YES! I do have some hot books for funsies.
If you have a tolerance for angst at this time (I can never tell if people mean fun as in "funny" or "anything entertaining", because my brain is weird and I tend to just be able to take a max dose of angst 95% of the time), I will always say some of the hottest books I've ever read with The Most Fun are Sierra Simone's. New Camelot is a great starting place IF you are down for some angst (HEA guaranteed, of course).
If you're NOT in an angsty mood, why not get a head start on the holiday season with her Christmas Notch series, co-authored by Julie Murphy? This series focuses on a small town where a Hallmark-type company films Christmas movies. Shit gets ROCKED, however, when the former child star actress of the movie (in the first book—these read best chronologically though they're technically standalones) has to drop out. The man heading the production studio making the movie ALSO has a porn production studio.... so... why not sub in a porn star who wants go mainstream? Starring opposite her childhood crush/a former boybander who's a big fan of her Only Fans page?
They're super funny, they're super delightful, they're HOT and the final book is out on 9/24! Does it include the hero getting his ass fingered? Who's to say?
(I am to say. He does. It's great. More of that, authors.)
SPEEEEAKING of porn stars, you could also try Rosie Danan's The Roommate, which is about a girl whose potential roommate drops out right before she's set to move in. Her new roommate... may happen to be a famous porn star. There is a truly incredible scene where she's like "I need an orgasm" and he's like "omg buddy I got you" and eats her out through her panties. Because that keeps it... platonic...
And then, also along the lines of modern classic superhot romcoms featuring sex workers, if you haven't read Helen Hoang's The Kiss Quotient... You gotta. A woman on the spectrum hires a male escort to teach her how to date (I mean, also to fuck) essentially, because she's been told she's frigid in bed in the past and thinks something is wrong with her. Rightfully, he's like "There is nothing wrong with you, also here's an orgasm". I'd also recommend the second book in the series, The Bride Test. The Heart Principle... is a heavy book that is actually too angsty for ME. Which is saying something. Not bad. Wouldn't call it fun.
What about Tracey Livesay's American Royalty? The one about the uptight British prince who has to organize a charity concert and hires a female rapper a la Megan Thee Stallion and then they fall in love? This one has a direct sequel, so you can get extra fun. (First book does NOT end on a cliffhanger, second just continues the journey.)
Minx by Sophie Lark is a fun one. In this one, the hero is a billionaire who hires the heroine, a high end escort, to help him with specific needs... Pet play, it's pet play. He has her dress up in a cat suit (to be clear: not like a furry cat suit... she's in a sexy cat suit and wearing cat ears and a collar that says "Minx"... she drinks milk out of a bowl and then they fuck nasty... INCLUDING. when she's ON HER PERIOD. be still my heart, more pls) and she ends up getting into his heart. Also, because it must be noted when we get it in m/f romance: his ass. She gets into that as well.
If you're open to something SUPER wacky lol, Kathryn Moon's A Lady of Rooksgrave Manor is a paranormal historical erotic romance in which the heroine essentially works in a brothel for monsters...? And she falls in love with like, five or six different monsters. The swords don't cross a TON, but they do cross, at it were. She bangs like. A Jekyll and Hyde guy; and a gollem type guy; an invisible guy; a vampire, a sphinx; and there's definitely more lol
How to Marry a Marble Marquis by C.M. Nascosta. Another paranormal historical type book. The heroine is looking for a husband, and receives assistance from a gargoyle rake. Also she receives dick from a gargoyle rake. She does in fact fuck the gargoyle rake while he's sleeping. And is a stone. He's fine with it.
If you're open to mafia romance, Mila Finelli (otherwise known as Joanna Shupe) writes such fun shit with her Kings of Italy series. Best read in order (the first two books are directly connected, the next three technically stand alone but come on now) they are SUUUUPER hot and SUUUUUUUUUPER over the top and so good. TWs for a lot of murder obviously, most of the super violent shit is "offscreen". The heroine of the first book is 18 and the hero (who initially is arranging for her to marry his son) is 38. So there's that. But it's very much NOT your standard issue "sweet virgin" mafia romance.
Sara Cate's first four Salacious Player's Club books are super hot and good! I would especially recommend Give Me More (MMF, friends to lovers) and Mercy (femdom, older heroine/bratty hero). Also Mercy has pegging! I'm on a roll, truly.
Act Your Age by Eve Dangerfield, of course. The one where the heroine blows her boss by accident (it was dark, they were both confused, mistakes were made) AAAAND calls him daddy during. Which he loves. So they begin a no-strings relationship which involves, among other things, stepfather/stepdaughter roleplay. It gets emotionally out of hand. Soooo good and soooooo hot tho I will admit I am soooooooo the target audience.
If you want short and sweet, Angelina M. Lopez just released Give it To Me! which is an anthology of her short stories, most of which are on the hotter side (a couple are closed door, but one of the few that doesn't include sex has a sequel story in the collection which DOES and it's fab). You get everything from a widow asking her dead husband's best friend (who's become her best friend in the ensuing years) to help her get back in the saddle (by fucking her) to surfboard sex to a magical orgy gangbang situation. Very fun.
If you've never read Tessa Dare... lol... now's the time. A Week to Be Wicked and When a Scot Ties the Knot might be good for this moment! I also love Any Duchess Will Do, but that has a gut punch (in a sad way) moment.
Grace Callaway's historicals are very fun and very hot and silly and comedic, buuuut I will say the backstories can get pretty dark in a lot of them. If you are open, I'd say that you might want to try her Game of Dukes series or the Lady Charlotte's Society of Angels (it's Charlie's Angels but historical romance) books.
A lot of S.M. LaViolette books can be on the darker side, but her Bellamy's series is definitely on the lighter end for her. They're VERY hot if you're in a historical mood, and though there are some tragic backstories, I think it's a bit more doable than her other stuff. And you get things like "Phoebe's mom tells her she should just knock herself out on her wedding night because her future husband is like 7 feet tall and clearly hung" and "Hyacinth is pretending to be a guy and Sylvester knows she's a girl now so he's having a good time baiting her into revealing she's a girl by saying shit like 'LET'S JACK OFF TOGETHER, OL' BOY' while watching a peep show with her".
TJ Alexander's Triple Sec is sooo fun and hot if you're open to a queer book. The main POV heroine is a bartender who meets a bubbly lawyer... but the lawyer is married... But hey, they're poly! And now our main heroine is dating the lawyer while developing feelings for her frosty artist spouse... It's F/F/NB.
Preferential Treatment by Heather Guerre, of course. A woman mouths off to the billionaire CEO of her company. He's super into it and offers to pay her to be his domme. Yay!
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iantimony · 2 years ago
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still tuesday-posting
unfortunate conversation completed (expanded a bit on in the extra section). time to tuesdaypost
listening: my officemate got me into maneskin and hooooo baby i do love the them. so been listening to them a lot this past week, mainly their newest album. also evanescence the open door put me down like a dog etc
reading: fallow again this week ... locked tomb meta posts? quantum notes??
watching: my roommate said that she'd never seen a mel brooks movie so naturally i put on history of the world part i (apparently there's a part ii on hulu coming out this spring??? the trailer looks promising) and well, some of that humor definitely hits different as an adult than as a kid who doesn't know better! the spanish inquisition big still is the funniest imo. however in the ancient rome bit we both did choke on our drinks when drunk julius caesar went "ok fggot what's next" like out of NOWHERE, and i KNOW thats not the context the joke was originally written in but it had extreme tumblr shitpost energy. to me. anyways
making: working on that tank top .. i HAVE been embroidering so that's good .... made a tasty chicken dish last night w my roommate ....
misc: have not been very productive this week so far unfortunately. augh. partly probably because of stress re: this friend conversation, which did end up going exactly as i anticipated, essentially we made out a few times our last semester before covid hit and apparently he caught feelings and just never told me (or was also in denial? unclear) and just needed to get it off his chest for closure. so. it was fine we're definitely still friends but i also, on one hand, am like the Fucking Audacity of this Man after he essentially stopped talking to me when covid hit and i just assumed he just. didn't want to be my friend any more. and that stung! so. whatever. i think this came up because i casually mentioned i have a partner at one point when we were discussing getting some undergrad friends together and he was like ah. and i was like . hm. ok. so that's over with at least. sorry homie
other than that gym has been good.....getting swole etc........gonna be more productive the rest of this week re: work studying etc. especially now that i have a set date for my quantum midterm.
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gingerontheside · 2 years ago
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I fulfilled a dream of mine since I was 12 years old: I went to a Love Live! Idol concert! These concerts are directly tied to the anime, Love Live! There’s 1: Love Live! 2: Love Live! Sunshine! 3: Love Live! Nijigasaki High School Idol Club, and 4: Love Live! Superstars!
I had the chance to see the most recent group: Liella! (You have to include the exclamation point it is practically part of their title.) They are from the Love Live! Superstar! Anime.
There are 9 girls in Liella!, though when they started up in 2021 there was only 5 girls (I was in a cosplay group for it.) Having only been around since 2021, meaning they started up after Covid, it was extremely impressive to me that this was there 3rd tour as an idol group.
To start, getting the tickets to this show was EXTRAORDINARILY DIFFICULT. If I didn’t have several friends who are pretty adept at Japanese around me, I simply would not have been able to get these tickets. Filling out the online form was impossible if you allowed Google to translate the page cause it screwed up the software and did not allow you to input things like your name. Oh my god, the name section. They did not like my foreign name. I had to scramble to figure out how to write my name in Hirigana, Katakana, AND Kanji. All of which were rejected several times so I honestly have no idea what name they have for me on file now since it is probably not even close to my actual name. Once I finally got passed just the name and address section, I was prompted to input my credit card. Fine and good, I have a Travel credit card! . . . Rejected. Try a different card. Rejected. FINE. Luckily there was a selection to get a little QR code and pay for the ticket at a conbini (I chose 7/11, since it was right next door to the university.) I should also note the ticket was pretty expensive at ¥10,000 plus a ¥550 fee. So I’m total around $90. Hell, I was willing to pay way more if I needed to.
After what felt like hours (because it WAS hours), I got the alert that I had successfully reserved a ticket. And not going to lie, I teared up and screamed and jumped around like a crazy person. Love Live! Concerts were a pipe dream for me, something I genuinely never thought I would be able to experience in person (mostly because they refuse to go to the US at ALL) especially since these concerts sell out months in advance. The fact that I was able to get a ticket a WEEK before the concert is still mind boggling.
Okay so I’m in. Here we go! Or! So I thought! Turns out you cannot download the ticket normally, you have to get a specific app for it. And guess what? If you don’t have a Japanese Apple ID, then you simply cannot get the app. So I had to create a whole new Apple ID just to view my ticket. Infuriating.
Okay NOW let’s go. The concert was about an hour away from my dorm by train, and the concert started at … 5:30 in the afternoon. Very odd for me, who is used to concerts not starting until closer to 7 or 8 or later, but in Japan concerts start early cause the trains close early. Fair enough. After agonizing all week over what to wear I finally decide on an adorable butterfly dress my best friend and lovely roommate Ash made for me.
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Since I did not know Japanese concert etiquette, I showed up at the venue (The Musashino Sports Arena) at around 4, to give myself some time to orient myself with the space. Well as it turns out, everyone has gotten there probably HOURS prior. People were queued up down every staircase and walkway I could see, and all of the merchandise was sold out (much to my dismay). I was not surprised to see most of the fans present were men, though I will admit I was a bit disappointed. But the women who did come showed up and showed Out! All of them were dressed adorably, so I was very thankful of the dress I chose to wear.
Getting into the venue was a whole different beast. Thank goodness for a Taiwanese foreigner who spoke English and found me, because without him I don’t know if I would have made it inside. As it turns out, the ticket I purchased looked wildly different than everyone else’s. Everyone around me had a special page for an ID confirmation . . . I did not. The lovely young man helped usher a worker over and I was shepherded away though the crowds to more workers, who spoke quickly to each other and looked at my phone and eventually just .. let me in. I’m sure it was because my ticket was valid but there’s a piece of me that wonders if it’s because I just looked so scared.
Once inside it was pretty easy to find my seat (in the WAY top in the WAY back, cause I probably got one of the last tickets available). One quick thing I noted: there were signs everywhere saying :
NO PHOTOS
No cheering
No dancing
Pretty much no making a ruckus…at a concert. As a person who goes to concerts to scream sing, this was very disconcerting. So I snuck a few quick photos before the concert began, and once the concert actually started, there were attendants at the top and bottom of EVERY aisle, watching to make sure you didn’t take any photos. It was kinda insane.
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There were my super sneaky before show photos. The stage was remarkable: HUGE and two pieces (the main stage and a catwalk to a center circular stage.) and surrounded by massive LED screens that displayed all sorts of stuff, like the idols and their corresponding symbols, or pulsing all sorts of lights and colors, showing clips from the anime … it was quite the spectacle.
Where I was (you know, way top way back), everyone in my section would remain standing for as long as the girls were performing, then as soon as they stepped off stage and an interlude would play (clips from the anime) they would sit back and catch their breath. I guess ? Nobody was cheering. No one was singing. The most noise people made was laughing at certain points and clapping quite politely. It was really unnerving. What they DID do, however, was every audience member (I mean…except me and the girl next to me) had a light blade, which glowed different colors depending on who was singing or whatever idol the holder was a fan of. I managed to get one after the concert;
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This was the only thing people in the audience would do, flash their light blades in different colors and kind of copy the dance moves the idols would do, as much as you could with just your arms. It was SO bizarre for me. Since I didn’t have a light blade, I opted for sort of…fistpumping along with everyone’s light blades. Well it wasn’t all a busy, since I had my Apple Watch on that has a flashlight feature. Some of the idols actually seemed to notice this when they were parading around the arena in their special carts: I definitely got waved to and specifically pointed at a few times. It might be because I was the only white person there, but I’ll take it.
I cried a lot. Like , a LOT. The idols came on stage and I could not stop hiccuping and crying for the first 20 minutes. Luckily for me, the concert lasted for 3 HOURS. The girls had 7 costume changes! (7!!!!! What!!!)
I wish I could have taken photos or videos, this show was so visually spectacular. It fulfilled all of my little Idol heart dreams, and I cannot even express how happy I was the entire concert. It definitely set in stone how much I WISH THE US HAD IDOLS CAUSE I WOULD DO ANYTHING TO BE AN IDOL LIKE THEM.
For now, I will find that fulfillment in the Idol Cosplay group I am in (we do dance covers of the Love Live! Idol songs in full cosplay. It’s super fun. I’ll include a picture of us in cosplay at the bottom 💕 I’m in the back in the grey wig with the blue skirt)
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kidmachinate · 6 months ago
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Count The Losses
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Credit above to By Lainey Molnar:
https://www.facebook.com/share/GqwjUgp5nBeqH6sn/?mibextid=qi2Omg
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Since mid last year, it's been a constant struggle and survival has become a lifestyle more so than ever. There have been some bright spots along the way but the everlasting need to make things work is truly taking its toll on my mental state of being. Since mid last year, all of the following has taken place:
- kicked out an ex-roommate that quickly showed they never truly appreciated where they at to begin with due to their refusal to do basic tasks and hold a job for very long
- helped financially during a job rut my partner was going through
- got unwillingly terminated from a job after a few months due to a shift in roles and management around the time of my birthday last year
- left one other role due to lack of pay/commissions to pay the bills and toxic micromanagement
- got in with a startup company for the owner to then leave everyone without a job three months later due to their shitty management of money which screwed over not one but two companies worth of people due to his negligence
- Just before finding yet another role, helped with another job rut my partner was going through
- Lined up yet another role in which I start Monday, because the last one mentioned ending up not being a good fit among other details I won't get into until all is said and done. I left on good terms but we will have to wait and see if that truly ends up being the case.
Among everything here, I've had to dig into the entirety of my crypto stash which I believe was somewhere between 9k-11k worth of earnings at the time. The small positions I still have now are crumbs not worth mentioning. I did this bit by bit to be what I'd say would be 80% responsible, 20% pleasure. In between in all, at various points, I convinced myself life would get better. I still have to do that. I wanted to be sure we could live a little amongst all the chaos. I suppose this is the getting it all out post I had mentioned to some a while back. Taking note of the losses to be able to move forward. When tallying losses, it's important to remember the victories as well.
- The first half of South Florida Fair
-Nier Automata Concert
- Two visits from my partner's daughter, Ashley
- Varied friend gatherings and nights out
I have about four days to recharge before it is right back to the workforce and I'm beside myself. I know I did the right thing for my mental health but in the process of doing this, mental health takes a hit anyway because of needing to make ends meet. Bouncing between four jobs myself and surviving through my partner's two job ruts (months at a time) to support the household...maybe I should be happy I'm still here. Happy I have any savings or investments left to speak of, even if far from what is considered a safe nestegg for one and for the other an account I haven't been able to grow for a long time. There are also losses that date back to COVID times (that I did not list) in which many of us took a hit. I'm sure I'm not the only one in which we still haven't fully recovered, and things like inflation and turbulent job markets seem to be the new norm. It's fucking exhausting out there.
Intimacy means many different things nowadays and posts are being made about it. Simply speaking, if it makes you happy, chase that. I imagine many are tired of being resilient in their own lives. Survival. Working for people that very likely don't appreciate you to pay the bills and maybe cram in time with people that do appreciate you. Connection matters so much more now than ever. If you don't have that going for you through various outlets, what are we even doing here?
I'm trying to get myself back in a state in which connections I have are enhanced or even embracing new connections with those who treat people as human with real feelings and real needs. Understand that it is not just our individual struggles but struggles together, and we can bounce back and get through this. Have the hard conversations to be able to enjoy a good life. Have less time for, or ditch entirely, those not willing to grow. Stagnancy sucks because at various points you're gonna be stuck with some form of it. You're embracing the grind and not much changes as it takes time to grow. Celebrate that growth. Smile and laugh more. Know your tribe.
I think the world would go a long way if we can be grounded in realism instead of pessimism or optimism. Too far in either direction is bad. No one wants to be around a downer all the time just as much as someone doesn't want to be around a person that in all sunshine and rainbows to the point where you pretend life is perfect and will be at all times.
I'm not the only one on this journey. Far from it. While I'm craving growth and creative outlets because it builds upon your lifestyle, which eventually translates to a happy home. What feels like crushing weight isn't all bad and the proof is there. Gotta set things back on course. Amber (my partner) is a part of that course, and anything I do creatively, people are bound to know about her as well.
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Not much is more important than smiles on faces and acceptance. Safe spaces. Top tier values for me. Gotta keep it coming. We've tallied the losses, it's time to make a comparable list of wins.
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spiros-zorbalas · 7 months ago
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What Renters Are Looking for in 2024
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The United States is experiencing a housing crisis, which includes a lack of affordable housing options for renters throughout the nation. On average, only 34 out of every 100 extremely low-income renter households have access to available residences in their price range. Renters in this economic class experience shortages in every state and major metropolitan area in the country. Despite this shortage, nearly 44 million housing units are rented every year. Renters in 2024 maintain several areas of focus when it comes to assessing a potential rental unit.
To start, renters are interested in more space, including backyards. First impressions and curb appeal are hugely important for property owners interested in renting, or selling, a space. Tenants can often fully tour a home using digital tools without ever visiting the property, though 69 percent still want to take a guided, in-person tour before committing to a property. Considering how easily potential tenants can research rental units, property owners must invest in a lasting impression. A spacious, well-maintained outdoor space is a great way to stand apart from more confined rentals. Renters are especially interested in green spaces, even if they are renting in an urban environment.
Renters are also looking for more space indoors. Ever since the onset of the COVID-19 pandemic, renters have sought to “upsize” rental spaces and create home offices. The need for at-home workspaces has been exacerbated by a growing interest in starting small businesses. Close to half of American renters work from home multiple days per week, with 64 percent saying they expect this work arrangement to continue. Real estate economist and Florida Atlantic University professor Ken H. Johnson noted that Americans are prioritizing larger rental spaces. “Instead of one bedroom, they go for two.”
Some needs are more general than others. According to the National Multifamily Housing Council (NMHC) Renter Preferences Survey Report, which polled about 221,000 renters across the US, the vast majority of renters prefer an apartment to a townhome or single-family property. Nearly nine out of 10 respondents said they would choose an apartment over another type of rental property.
Americans also have preferences for the surrounding rental community. Over half of renters told NMHC that they would be more likely to rent a property if it was pet-friendly, compared to seven percent who said a pet-friendly designation would discourage them from renting. The former is interesting considering only 36 percent of respondents owned a pet, meaning many without pets still preferred a pet-friendly environment. Meanwhile, 65 percent of renters valued a healthy building certification and would consider certification status when signing a lease.
Different groups of renters have different needs. While adults and families may need extra space for a growing family or business venture, student-specific rental needs range from Wi-Fi reliability to the property’s proximity to campus. These types of rentals must often appeal to both students and parents. Flexible lease terms, individual leases for all roommates, and the ability to make online rental payments from multiple accounts are all important services in the student rental market, which consists of nearly 2.2 million students.
When it comes to specific amenities, 92 percent of renters say a washer and dryer in the unit tops everything else. At least nine out of 10 renters also described air conditioning units and soundproof walls as must-haves. Other important amenities include a garbage disposal and closet space.
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bellocan · 11 months ago
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hiii 1, 9 and eleven for relationship asks!!
1. do you prefer pure, innocent romantic interactions or do you prefer obsession and possession? or maybe a mix of both as long as it's relatively healthy and consensual?
ive never really had anyone like me to the point of obsession and possession! but i think id like a mix of both. i like cute and romantic gestures like leaving little flirty love notes or getting flowers or being incorporated into their creative pieces in some manner. there was a girl in high school that liked me that would refuse to leave my side when i was being dumb and isolating myself in the cold. and she'd keep my hands warm with hers. and she'd share an earbud with me and let me listen along with her. i didnt appreciate it back then but it melts my heart reflecting now.
after. my last relationship though. i also want to have zero doubts about the long haul so a little healthy possessiveness would give me a little reassurance! i want to indubitably be someones partner... i like feeling like im theirs and theirs only.
9. what was your longest ever relationship? how and why did it end?
my longest relationship is my first and only. it was ldr and it lasted about 4 and a half years. and i was engaged to them actually. had a nice little intimate christmas proposal in private and everything where i started off with christmas presents and led up to the ring!
in her own words, before she ghosted me, the relationship ended because "nothing has changed between us." she didnt feel like either one of us were growing. despite her finally working and being able to support herself somewhat. and despite me giving all my effort to address our pain points. although a lot of her pain points were nebulous due to fact of them solely involving just how she felt... and of course no matter what a person does, the other will simply feel how they feel. i would assure her that meaningful growth takes time and that measurable growth isnt instantaneous. i feel like she wanted to see her living conditions and her life in general change completely in a short amount of time.
in my own opinion, the relationship started falling apart about halfway through. she reached a point where she said she felt emotionally numb potentially as a result of her meds and couldnt feel intimacy anymore and didnt want to be intimate. i asked her to clarify since physical intimacy isnt my only want in a relationship and isnt even a deal breaker. and she said she wasnt sure. womp womp. despite her saying those things she ended up in bed with one of her university friends/flings. she said that she "just let him share the bed with her since he didnt have a place to sleep and nothing happened between them." and nah i dont quite buy that one bit anymore. especially since her roommate found the need to message me about it. there were a million different solutions she could have went with and she chose the worst one willingfully. at this point i tried breaking up with her or at least go on break. and she more or less guilted me into staying by accusing me of just wanting physical intimacy and sex lol... projecting much... from that point on forward i still put in as much effort as i could muster. but emotionally i was definitely colder. i definitely wasnt as vocal about my love. and then covid hit and the distance became greater. and it looked like it was getting back on track when the travel ban lifted and she stayed with me at my apartment for a month. and i actually believed that it was getting back on track at that point despite feeling uncertainty. and then she drops the break up a few months after blindsiding me.
11. describe your ideal type of romantic interest!!
i love creatives! whether theyre dancers or singers or writers or musicians or artists! i. feel like i have many types... i like confident passionate direct girls... ive been enamored by an architecture major whose hard work was both inspiring and. attractive. i would also put the girl at work i call texas girl in this category. watching her fiddle with components and be determined to resolve issues in any way she can... is attractive. i also like shy quiet. cutesy girls. mellow and sweet. i guess my ideal type would be someone confident and bold and direct... but can also be shy and sweet in private? someone thoughtful and kind. someone thatd make me feel supported and secure and undeniably loved. my love languages are words of affirmation and quality time!!! my romantic interest would be patient and mindful. and we would work as a couple to fix issues instead of shifting blame.
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psych0l0gical-effects · 2 years ago
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U13A3 WED APR 26
Content:
-behavior (preferred spelling in American English) vs behavior (preferred everywhere else). There is no difference in meaning. (Grammarist.com)
-Cognitive Behavioral Therapy: a common type of mental health counseling, typically with a mental health counselor (Mayo Clinic)
-CTB helps one become aware of inaccurate/negative thinking thus one can evaluate challenging situations clearly and respond better
-Good tool for treating depression, anxiety, and other mental illnesses
-more practical than what media makes CBT out to be -> teaches coping skills and how to react to situations (The Mental Health Charity’s (2015) video)
-cCBT (computerized cognitive behavioral therapy) is more effective than waitlist control for teaching anxiety disorders. cCBT is equally effective to in-person CBT for children and adults (Adelman et al.’s (2014) article)
-ICBT (internet-delivered cognitive behavior therapy) and face-to-face treatment provide equivalent overall effects
Reflection
Cognitive behavioral therapy in online formats has always been pushed as effective in my friend and family groups since COVID so I was surprised that today's content was focused on proving that it is effective. I could see there is a large population claiming that any online-based therapy wouldn't be as good as in-person but that still seems like such an outdated claim to me. It's something that my older parents would say, but they also say doing taxes on paper/via mail is better/easier than online.... which is CLEARLY not the case. I ended up talking to my roommate about the content I learned in today's readings and videos and we ended up talking for an hour about CBT online vs in-person. We both have had experiences with both and preferred our online formats much more for many many reasons. However, we did note that the downfall is if you're living with roommates and want a private space, its sometimes hard to get that.
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thisway-global · 2 years ago
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Hot Tips For Working From Home
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COVID-19 has swept the world, bringing a lot of people home to stay for a while. Some of us are lucky enough to be able to work remotely, and some are doing so for the first time ever. It can be a little tricky, turning your home into an office, maintaining productivity, and staying on top of your usual tasks. 
Our team has put together a list of things you can do to make it easier for yourself, and we want to share it with you. Check out our Beginner’s Guide to Working from Home! 
Prepare your Space – Find a spot in your home where you’ll be able to have enough room for the equipment, including your laptop, cell phone, files and anything else required for your daily workflow.
Take breaks as normal – Sometimes working from home can make you feel like you have to go above and beyond in productivity. It’s okay to take snack breaks, to get up and walk around a little bit, whatever you have to do to maintain your sanity. 
Check-In with your team constantly – whether through Slack, email, or whatever your team is using to stay in touch, you want to make sure you touch base with them regularly throughout the day. But don’t be shocked if you don’t hear back for a bit, hopefully, your teammate is working hard on something and just doesn’t want to break their concentration!
Winding down your workday – Just as if you were physically working in the office, continue your natural habit of winding down your workday. But before signing off, remember to check in with your team to let them know you’re signing off for the evening.
Here are some tech tips to help you utilize the tools you have at home:
1. Using your iPhone to ‘scan‘ documents
In the notes app on your iPhone, open a new note, click the camera button, and from there you can scan documents that will save as PDFs. This is a great way to work around not having a scanner at home! 
2. Alternatives to paid Conference Call platforms other than Zoom
Zoom is likely enjoying the surge of people downloading their software. But that comes with its own downsides, like lag time, difficulty connecting, or even inability to log in. It isn’t Zoom’s fault, but in the event, you need to take your conference call to a different service, here are a few options:
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Google Hangouts has conference call capabilities built-in if you have a google account (which, let’s be real you probably do) 
If your company runs on Office 365, Microsoft Teams has the ability to put all your video conferencing needs in one place by combining video chat, powerpoint, and more. Read more about it here. 
3. Basic Conference Call Guidelines and Tips
Be on call 5-10 minutes before if you are the host
Lighting – avoid backlighting, use soft full frontal lighting, preferably natural light
Apparel – keep neutral with the clothing, nothing too bright or distracting but also doesn’t blend in with your background
Settings – prepare your surroundings to ensure a quiet, uninterrupted call (kids, pets, roommates, etc)
Establish Rules of Engagement – ideally in an email beforehand and again at the beginning of the call once everyone has joined
Sound – most conference call softwares come with audio/video testing capabilities, use these to ensure it works when it matters
Background-have a neutral background, no highly distracting or reflective artwork
Trouble shooting – to avoid connectivity issues, plug directly into your internet if possible; log in early to ensure everything is working; close all extra tabs/windows and have any relevant presentation materials pulled up beforehand, ready to share
If possible, you want to avoid all of these conference call faux pas: 
youtube
4. Automated Interview scheduling with Calendly
Calendly syncs directly with your work calendar, so people can schedule times with you without needing access to your calendar directly. You can use it to schedule interviews with new prospective hires, or to keep your sales team afloat even remotely. Check out this article to get a great overview of Calendly and how it can help you and your team.
5. Team Communications 
Asynchronous communication is when you send a slack or an email to a coworker, and don’t expect an immediate response. It is beneficial especially in remote work situations, which is where most of the world is right now. It allows people to complete a task without interruption, knowing they can check their inbox and notifications once they’ve reached a good stopping point and won’t lose momentum. 
Sometimes, however, you need an immediate response to a time-sensitive issue. This is when it’s good to have your team’s phone numbers. You can call them and on the spot, get the answer you need. 
Asynchronous communications allow your team to remain focused longer, and not worry about missing out on important information. Everything is still in their inbox, or on slack. There are a lot of benefits to asynchronous communication that you can check out here.
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popculturegenealogy · 2 years ago
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Family secrets, family trees, and family history in Spellbound
On October 13, Libby Copeland wrote an interesting article in Psychology Today about the interest of Americans in genealogy, saying that it has become a cultural phenomenon and a big business, noting her book on the topic, titled The Lost Family: How DNA Testing Is Upending Who We Are. She noted that for much of U.S. history it has been seen as either "a worthy middle-class endeavor" or something to "divide people into a hierarchy of stations based on race and class," which changed in the later 20th century as the pursuit of family history became broader, with more Americans understanding themselves and their ancestors. Copeland also stated that the desire to look backward is sometimes out of a "sense of rootlessness," storytelling, explanation of family traits, and hoping the past can explain the present, while Black people may be "blocked from knowledge of the past by the paucity of records about their enslaved ancestors." She also stated that currently, we look because of a fear of current circumstances with the COVID pandemic, with Copeland stating that the present is time to ask questions, reckon with our past and that many of us are "faced with profound surprises about ourselves and our families, answers to questions we never even realized we were asking." In this post, I'll explore how this has manifested itself in some of my favorite webcomics, Spellbound, by Rose Luxey, otherwise known as "Ronce."
Reprinted from my Genealogy in Popular Culture WordPress blog. Originally published on March 15, 2021.
It begins in issue 86, aptly titled "Family history." One of the protagonists, Eglantine "Egg," comes to the mess hall alongside her roommate Ninon, asks her friend Faustine about what it means that her family is experimenting with magic, "legally speaking." Faustine explains that her family can be traced to the Great Magic Wars, with her father from one of the leading families. Right after that, we see a family tree, as shown below:
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Following this, Faustine explains that her ancestors were part of a family which brought destruction in their quest for more power and realizing her connection to that past, that it is not so distant anymore. The parallel I can think of are White people who have slaveowners as ancestors, who dismiss it as far in the past, even though it is part of their heritage, something which should be acknowledged. Egg is disturbed by this, as shown in the next issue of the webcomic, with Faustine admitting it isn't good to read about terrible things her uncle did in the past, and alter beginning to tell her about the different kinds of magic.
Sadly, this seems to be the only time roots or genealogy come up in the webcomic. However, this doesn't mean the webcomic is bad or anything. Rather, it focused on more important issues, interpersonal conflicts, identity crisis, friendship, love, depression, familial neglect, acceptance, and the like. And all of those issues are interconnected with the roots work that each of use do as genealogists. So, in that way, it comes full circle.
© 2021-2023 Burkely Hermann. All rights reserved.
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frannyzooey · 3 years ago
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In The Dark: 5
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Ezra x f!reader
Rating: Explicit, age gap
A/N: Thank you for being patient for this one - I couldn’t have done it without the reassurance of @krissology​ and @charnelhouse​ who assured me this chapter hit just the way I wanted it to. Apologies for any typos - this lady has COVID brain, but I wanted to get this out. Enjoy!
CHAPTER MASTERLIST
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Ezra: Can I come over tomorrow?
You kept looking at the text all night long.  Checking it was still there after you dried off from your shower, peeking at it every so often as you finished some homework, opening it after you crawled into bed. The simple words etched themselves onto your brain before you closed it, tapping your Books app to read. 
You had thought you had sated the ache you had for him in the shower earlier, but it did almost nothing against the bundle of nerves warming in your core right now at the thought of that text. It was as if the words acted as a match, igniting the kindling inside you the second he sent them. 
He could have waited until tomorrow morning to call you and ask, but after spending all day with him in close proximity of his casual touches and his lingering looks, you knew now that he liked to see how far he could push you. 
He had a playfulness in him, one that you had observed while being around him so much, and though you always saw it come out in teasing words and winks, you wondered if you were about to be shown a different side of it - a darker, more seductive one. 
You switched your phone for a real book and a light, hoping that the lack of screen would make it easier to fall asleep. It had been a long day after all, and it did the trick, because not even ten pages in, you nodded off.
It’s early when you wake; you’ve come to like that. 
When you were a teen, days off meant sleeping in until noon and then rolling out of bed just in time to get ready to hang out with your friends. Once you started college, those early hours were brutal, especially after so many late nights either partying, staying up to gossip with your roommates or studying. You made the mistake of signing up for one 8am class your freshman year only once, and you never did it again. 
It wasn’t until later that you discovered, by chance, how peaceful the solitude of the early morning could be. Needing to deliver a midterm paper that was technically due the night before, you had set your alarm for 6am to make the walk across campus. Stepping outside, you were surprised at how quiet it was, how bright and crisp and refreshing, and after dropping your paper off, you had taken a longer route back to your dorm to soak it in. After that, you decided that while late nights were fun with other people, early mornings were better by yourself.
You usually spent them reading: your couch positioned right next to the window for a premium spot, the ledge of that open window the perfect place for your cup of coffee. Your limbs are too restless this morning for that though, so you take the time to clean instead; weeks’ worth of neglect cluttering the surfaces around your apartment. 
Books are everywhere: weathered copies from the campus library, even worse ones from the second hand store. New, glossy covers of those you couldn’t resist mixed with the hardbound textbooks you owned, slim notebooks tucked haphazardly between volumes, the pages sometimes riddled with study notes, sometimes with writing ideas. There wasn’t a lot of space in your small apartment, which helped you keep it tidy, but books – you always had room for those. 
You sort them, putting them in their rightful places, the task a calming one. After that, the papers in your bag, then a wipe down of your kitchen and bathroom, then one of yourself - a long shower, to rinse the grime of chores off your skin. You take your time shaving, making sure you get every single spot and when you get out of the shower, you see a text from him, sent 10 minutes prior. 
Ezra: On my way, that okay?
You smile, quickly texting him yes before rushing into your bedroom to get dressed and you busy yourself by making your bed, lighting a candle in the living room, fussing with the throw pillows on the couch. 
Then, you wait. 
You’ve spent so long in his environment, in his house, it’s hard to picture him in yours. What will he think of it? It isn’t really about what he thinks of the apartment - those are all the same, in their own basic way - but so far, you’ve only known him as Ezra around Cee. Who is he as Ezra, the man? Is he the same? Different? Who is he around the women he goes home with? 
You try to picture him in a vague, bland apartment, sitting with the woman at the movie theater, maybe a glass of wine in his hand. Them, flirting. Him, kissing her. Him, laying her backwards onto the cushions of her couch, guiding her body with his and suddenly the image of her transforms into you and your living room, your clothes on the floor and his mouth –
When your phone rings, it startles you from your train of thought. Ezra’s name pops up on the screen and you swipe your thumb to answer it.
“Hello?” 
“Hello, Birdie,” he greets you smoothly and you can hear the smile on his face through the line. It gives you a thrill to hear his voice through the phone, even more so knowing he’s calling just for you. “How is your morning so far?”
“Good. Catching up on chores. Are you outside, or –?”
“I’ve had something come up. I was wondering if maybe you wanted to come run an errand with me?” You can hear the sound of city traffic on his end of the line; car horns, wind, the general movement of the vehicle itself and you picture him sitting in the driver’s seat, the competent way he drives. 
“Uh, sure,” you answer, wondering what he means by errands. “I can grab my stuff and meet you outside - don’t park. Are you close?”
“I am indeed. See you in a minute.” 
When he pulls up, you’re waiting for him out front just like you said you would and he reaches over, opening the car door from the inside. The smile he gives you in greeting is genuine and disarmingly handsome but brief, the dimples in his cheeks showing only for a moment. He leans back into his seat as you climb in, checking his rearview mirror while you buckle and knowing he can’t be double parked for more than a second or two, he slides back into traffic with a smooth single handed steer. 
“Hello,” he says after a moment, reaching over to grab your knee with a squeeze. You chose a dress to wear today, not sure of where you were going, but sure you’ll look good doing it and you can tell he agrees with the way his eyes keep sweeping over you. They drift up to yours and hold there for a beat, warm and affectionate, before looking back at the road and when he pulls his hand away, you can still feel the weight of it on your skin. 
“Sorry I didn’t just come up, like I wanted. This isn’t how I imagined spending some time alone with you, but I got this call I’ve been waiting for and I didn’t want to reschedule.”
“Don’t worry about it,” you reassure him, shifting slightly in your seat to face him. “I don’t mind. Where are we going?”
“It’s a surprise.” He says the words with a hushed weight, a wink over at you when you smile at his teasing tone. “How did you sleep last night?” 
“Okay. How about you?” You bite your lip at the sight of his t-shirt moving in the wind across his broad chest, at his tanned throat just above the collar. He’s wearing a cardigan today again and the fabric looks so soft, you want to lean in and rest your cheek against it. 
“I was restless, Birdie. I’m not gonna lie.” He keeps his eyes on the road, deftly merging into another lane in order to make a turn and his open admission makes your heart pick up pace. You love the way he never says what you think he will say, though always honest and the casually blatant statement thrums through your already tense limbs. 
“Oh yea? How come?” You know why, but you want to hear him say it. 
“Because I couldn’t stop thinking about you.” 
You’re not paying attention to where you are going at all, instead watching his hand as it comes to settle on your thigh again and when you rest yours on top of it, he hums in approval, sliding it further up the inside of your leg. 
“After yesterday, how could I sleep, hmm?” His pinkie strokes your petal soft skin, a slow back and forth that lights a path straight up between your legs and you are immediately flung right back into his kitchen at night, right back in the Farmer’s Market, right back in the bookstore. 
Unconsciously, you gently scoot on the seat to move his hand further up, the sounds of traffic dimming into a white noise in the background as he peeks over at what you’re doing. 
“Did you think about me last night, like I thought about you?” His question is asked quietly, but you hear every single word in that small space the two of you share. The pads of his fingers are calloused, his hand warm and dry and you want nothing more than to just drag it up to where you need it the most; even more so because you’re fairly sure he would love it. 
“I did,” you reply instead, leaving his hand right where it is and the admission makes him smile, his hold tightening on your leg, tenderly digging his fingers into the meat of it. He caresses your skin, watching your eyes drop down to watch and he knows he should be focusing more on driving right now, but he can’t help but wonder what you’re wearing under your dress. If he just shifts his hand a bit higher, he could find out… 
Fuck, maybe he should have canceled this appointment. 
He looks regretful when he draws his hand back, breaking the moment and the action makes you take a deep breath, pulling you back to the present. He’s slowing down, searching for a spot to park and you look around, trying to figure out where you are.
Distinctly middle class, is your first impression. Different from some of the deepest parts of the city, definitely not the same as Chelsea, where you were yesterday, this neighborhood looks more….lived in. Residential. Brick red apartments line the block, one after the other, stoops out in front of each one. 
Brightly colored storefronts line the next street down, Russian subtext under English bannered names and a couple of people stand in the doorway of one, chatting. A woman pushes a stroller laden with grocery bags down the opposite side, a small child trailing behind her and you wonder if he’s taking you for breakfast, maybe?
Finding a spot, he parks, and rounds the car before you can get out.  He opens your door, a gesture you don’t think anyone has ever done for you before and when he holds his hand out, you take it. He tugs you up and into his arms, your hands finding their place in the thick fabric of his sweater and he stands there for a moment and lets you take him in, just like he’s doing with you. 
You feel so good in his hold, the curves of your body felt clearly under the light dress you’re wearing and when he leans into you, you think he’s going to kiss you -- but he shuts the car door behind you instead. 
He looks down, his lips pulling up at the obvious upturn of your face and even though he wants nothing more than to press his mouth to yours and kiss you until you’re breathless, he restrains himself. He felt what his barely there touches did to you yesterday, felt the heady pulse of electricity build between your bodies until you were squirming in your chair at the restaurant and that is what he wants. 
When his lips brush your cheek in a slow inhale of a very innocently chaste kiss, he can feel your body trembling in his hold.
“Ready?” He asks, lacing your fingers with his and it takes all he has not to smirk at the hooded, dazed want in your eyes.
“Yes.” 
It takes you a moment to answer, something he delights in.  
The errand, as it turns out, is visiting an elderly woman’s apartment in Brighton Beach. She had called Ezra, saying she might have something of interest for him and when he introduced himself to her, you admired how well this job seemed to suit him. Not only the delicate task of extracting the treasure from the dirt, but the people skills it took to get there in the first place. He handled them just as carefully as their items. 
He was immensely charming, talkative, his politeness disarming and she welcomed the two of you in. As she led you down the hallway of her cozy unit, you automatically grasped his arm in your hold when you saw the bedroom you walked you into. 
“Oh……my God.”
Dolls, everywhere. Seated on every shelf, piled on the daybed, held standing on the dresser by display stands. Ceramic, cloth, wooden; dresses of all kinds: silk, cotton, lace. Their full cheeked, creepy faces seemed to all stare at you at once, tracking you around the room as you followed Ezra over to a cabinet in the corner and when the woman lifted a doll from the glass case, she did it with the same delicate movements you would handle a newborn with. 
“This is the one,” she said, her voice high and wavery, and Ezra took it gently from her, his hands carefully handling it as he assessed the sewn seams, the hair, the clothes. His brow furrowed in  discerning study, he knew exactly what he was looking for. Not finding it and he eventually handed it carefully back to the woman with a regretful look on his face. Seeing that it wasn’t quite the find the woman thought it was and sensing she was about to lose her audience, she invited the two of you to stay. 
Ezra extracted you from the situation like a professional. 
“We would love to stay, but we’ve got a couple other things to do this morning. Meetings just like this.” He grasped her elbow in sincere apology, a touch that made her pat his arm. 
She nodded in understanding, looking over at you and taking your morbid curiosity of the dolls as in interest like hers, she smiled. 
“Do you like any of them, my dear?” She came closer to you, resting her hand on the dresser top. While she looked at the dolls affectionately, you glanced over her shoulder at Ezra, who appeared to be stifling an urge to laugh. His face shifted into a silent scold for you to pay attention to her and you did, hiding a curl of your lips. “I would be glad to give you one.”
“Oh no, I couldn’t –” you started to refuse and Ezra stepped in, circling to stand behind you. His hand came to rest on your lower back, curling around your hip. 
“Oh, you should, Birdie –”
“Birdie? How sweet,” she said pleasantly. “Is that your name?”
Sandwiched between the two of them and flustered by her insistence on a doll and his presence, you stepped back and he was right there, warm and solid against you. His hand slid down further, his fingers splaying to cup the curve of your bottom and you couldn’t believe he was doing this with this woman right in front of you. 
Polite and charming, indeed. 
You wanted to turn around and look at him, your feet shifting on the floor as he traced the line of your panties through your dress and taking a deep breath, you tried to steady yourself. The woman started to show you her favorite ones, his hand then drifting excruciatingly slowly towards the juncture of your thighs and when they pressed inwards, you almost jolted. Bracing yourself on the dresser,  the woman smiled encouragingly. 
“This one?” she asked, selecting the one she had just pointed out, but you barely heard her. You’d only been with this man for less than an hour and your panties were a damp cling against your center, your emptiness felt even more with his hands on you. 
“Um, yes,” you answered, the words catching slightly in your throat and she looked so pleased, you felt a bit guilty. The second the words left your mouth, Ezra took his hand back. 
Taking the smallest, least scary looking one from her, it was ten more minutes of a conversation held during a slow moving walk towards her door before the two of you were finally freed. 
“What do you think you were doing in there?” you ask, watching him get his keys out. 
He feigns innocence, opening your car door. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”
You laugh, holding the doll out to him. “Why did you let her give this to me? Look at this thing. Take it.”
“Oh no, that’s all yours. I saw how you were looking at its glassy, creepy eyes. It’s Victorian clothes.” He slips his sunglasses back on, a teasing upturn of his lips and leans in closer. “I saw how much you wanted it.”
The double meaning of the words isn’t lost on you and when you climb into the car, you want to toss the doll into the backseat, but hesitate when you think about how much that woman cared for it. You place it down gently instead. 
“Ready for another trip?” he asks, starting the car. 
Still reeling from his touch upstairs and not at all ready for this day to end, you smile and say yes. 
He’s got a few places to go, it turns out: an antiques shop in Tribeca to look at an old bed frame, Greenwich Village to pick up some brass hardware and original Victorian wall sconces, over to West Harlem to look at furniture from a recently liquidated Midtown office and while every one of these errands was necessary, his “casual” touches were not. 
His hand remained on your thigh in the car, on your back when you walked along with him,  a bracing wrap around the back of your knee when he knelt down to “inspect” the construction of an end table. On that one, he asked the shop owner to check something on the computer and when the man walked away, you almost yelped when you felt the quick press of his mouth on the outside of your leg. 
You were back where he had left you yesterday, going out of your mind with arousal and you knew he could tell, which made you feel even more worked up. He was doing this on purpose, like an extended type of foreplay and you tried to think of a way to get him back. 
You eventually succeeded, in that warehouse of furniture. Rows of old oak desks, clunky typewriters covered in yellowed plastic sheets, a pile of old rotary phones. It looked like the discarded set of Mad Men, and fishing out a pad of paper and pencil from one of the file boxes nearby, you rested the latter on your bottom lip with an exaggerated pout. 
Channeling your inner Joan Harris, you sauntered over to him and asked him in a sultry voice if you could take notes for his “meeting”. When he tried to grab you, you slipped from his grasp, instead bending over a desk and pretending to reach for something. Letting the word “sir” slip from between your lips, you rendered the man speechless for the very first time since you’d met him.
“Did you like it today?” he asks, a one eyed squint over at you in the bright sunlight of the afternoon. Sitting on a bench in a park across from the office building, he takes a bite of his hot dog and you peel the paper back on yours, following suit. You always did love a street vendor. 
“I did,” you answer thoughtfully. “I liked seeing you with those people more, I think. Doing your job. Watching you talk to them.”
He grins, shaking his head and you continue, nudging him with your elbow. “No, I mean it. I always think about like, who lives in all these buildings, you know? What are their lives like? What are their houses like, these little spaces for themselves in this big city.” You stop, a little self conscious when you see him just looking at you, but when you see soft endearment in his eyes, you keep going. 
“I don’t know,” you shrug, taking another small bite. “I’m just happy you showed me. I liked it.”
He slowly balls his used paper in his hands, reaching for the can of Coke next to his thigh. “I’m glad you liked it.” He takes a swallow and you watch the movement of his throat above the collar of his shirt. “I’ll take you again sometime, if you want?”
You nod and he finishes the soda, standing to toss his garbage in a can nearby. When he comes back, he holds his hand out to you. 
“Ready to go home?”
You aren’t - you want to stay with him, to let this day unfold in whatever plan the universe has, if only to discover more about him and his life when he’s not with you. He looks boyish and light right now when you look up at him, the sun a glowing halo behind his head, the dark strands of his unruly curls lit with it and the crinkles around his eyes deepen, the dimples in his whiskered cheeks deep when you slowly shake your head no. 
“Not unless you come with me?”
You wait on baited breath for him to answer, hoping he doesn’t have anything else to do today but of course he doesn’t; he’s waited too long for this opportunity to present itself. He’s got the whole day, just for you. 
“Of course.”
The steps up to your apartment are a silent, weighted thing, especially for all the talking you’ve done with him today. Your lighter footfalls against his heavier ones, you can feel his presence at your back and the pull you feel towards him grows more intense the higher you climb. At your door, you fumble with the trick lock before you get it to open. 
“So I get to see my birdie’s nest, huh?” The question is said to himself more than anything, but you still feel a swoop light through your chest at the words “my birdie”. His. 
He follows you in, taking in the heady, familiar scent of you in the bright, welcoming space. The tension in the room is instant, as if it was swept in with him once he crossed the threshold and when the door closes, it gets thicker.
Just to have something to do with yourself, you ask if he wants any coffee and he’s still looking around when he says yes. 
When you wander into the kitchen to make it, tossing your keys and bag on the tiny table, he follows right behind. 
He does want to see your place - wants to know who you are, look around the space you call home - but he’s been waiting all day to get you alone. Even longer than that, if you count all day yesterday and the weeks before when he ached for you and he can’t seem to find the interest in pursuing your bookshelves to see what you like to read at the moment or what kind of music you might listen to. 
Not when you’re finally alone with him. 
He comes to stand behind you, crowding you at your counter and when you try to place a scoop of grounds into the machine, he stills your hand with his. You freeze, feeling the warm skim of his breath on your neck and when you feel his mouth graze your skin, the tension you’ve been holding in your body all day crests until it melts, spreading throughout your limbs. 
“Turn around, Birdie.” The words alone are enough to make you shiver, the husk in which his voice sounds low in your ear rolling through your body like an intimate wave of want and when you turn in his hold, he backs up barely enough to let you move. The position and its similarity to the one you found yourself in the other night isn’t lost on either of you. 
You’ve each dreamt about this moment for weeks and now that it’s here, the immense want unfurls free between the two of your bodies, filling the space. It's like a drug; you couldn’t say no even if you tried. 
His hands come up to cradle your face, your lips parting only just as if you want to breathe him in and his eyes warm at the instant softening of your youthful features. “Are you nervous?”
You nod slowly because you are, even though you wish he would slide his thumb only just towards your lips so you could kiss it.
He likes your nod, but he likes your mouth more and when he bends down to press his own against it, the action is chaste and gentle compared to the other ways he’s kissed you. 
“Don’t be,” he whispers, his bottom lip collecting yours, his hold tightening subtly on your face to draw you in closer and he can almost feel the way you're practically vibrating for more than what he’s giving you - which is just how he wants it. 
He kisses you again, his tongue sweeping slowly through your mouth to open you up for him and a soft sound catches in the back of your throat, your fingers splaying over his firm sides. He slants his head to deepen it, your lips molding against his and you’re not even sure how it’s possible you’re already this turned on from a kiss, but this is what he does to you. It’s what he has always done to you, and you feel the thin material of your panties dampen between your legs. 
Another one, another one, his mouth demanding more from yours each time and he tastes so good and masculine, with a hint of sweetness from his soda earlier. He lets out a groan into your mouth and you slip your hands under his shirt to rest them on his warm skin. Sliding them over his sides and around to his strong back, you map the line of muscle that follows his spine and when you get to the waistband of his pants in the back, you slip the tip of your fingers underneath his briefs and pull him closer. 
Devouring would be the best way to describe the way he’s kissing you, just like he did in his kitchen: like he can’t stop now that he’s had a taste, especially now that he doesn’t have to stop.
“You taste so good, Birdie,” he murmurs, breaking from the kiss only far enough that his lips brush against yours when he says it. The tip of his tongue flicks out to taste the middle of your lower lip. “Even better when I can really take my time.”
You smile into his next kiss, the curve of it melting almost instantly when he shifts his mouth to the corner of your jaw, pressing thick kisses there. Lower still, his mouth dragging warm and wet down the slope of your neck and when you loll your head to the side to give him space, you catch a glimpse of the two of you in a mirror you have hanging on the wall. 
You hardly recognize yourself - kiss swollen lips, hooded eyes, a slack mouth opened in near panting - but it’s him you really focus on. The crown of his dark hair, the patch of gray threaded at the corner of his jaw, the solidness and height of his body next to yours, the strain of his shirt over his biceps as he continues to hold you close to him. 
“Do you want more?” he asks, directing the lowly spoken words into the hollow of your throat and when you say yes, he pulls away, licking his lips with a swallow.
“Where is your bedroom?” The direct question shouldn’t be as arousing as it is, and yet –
You take his hand in yours, guiding him down the hallway towards it and when he gets there, he takes it in, just like he did your living room. 
“I like your blanket.” He goes to your bed, sitting down on the edge of it. “And your pictures.” He isn’t looking at either of those things, instead tracking you with his eyes. “And your books.”
“What about me? Do you like me?” you tease, coming to stand between his legs and he hums in approval, his tanned throat bobbing with it. 
“Oh, I like you very much.” The words are directed at your belly, his fingers slipping under the hem of your skirt to rest on the front of your thighs, His hands wrap around them, slowly sliding up until he gets to the band of your panties and you hold still, letting him do it. He looks up, his teeth resting for a moment on his lower lip and you reach down, lifting the material of your skirt to rest at your waist. His breath skims warm over the sensitive skin of your stomach when he cups your bottom in his hold, his hands giving it a slight squeeze. 
“This,” he starts, leaning forward to place a kiss against your hip bone and you sigh, placing your hand on his shoulder when he squeezes the plump flesh harder, kneading it in his grasp. “This ass, Birdie - I can’t stop thinking about it.”
Resting his forehead against the gentle slope of your belly, it puts his face directly in front of your cunt. You want to squirm in his hold, the ache inside you only growing more and more overwhelming with every second that he stays there and his hands tightening, his chin nuzzling your mound. 
“I –,” you’re about to plead for him to do anything, but you’re instantly cut off by the movement of his face.
His nose fits neatly along your seam, his hands splaying wide over your bottom to cup it and pull you closer and he lets out a soft groan into the apex of your thighs; your innocent, white panties undoing him. 
The cotton is soft under his calloused hands, a dampness darkening the crotch of the fabric when you shift slightly in his hold and his eyes flit up to yours for a moment before he presses his tongue against it. 
You inhale sharply, curling into the warmth of his mouth and you fist your dress, your hips wanting to rock forward. You can feel his hot breath through the thin fabric, can feel the humid, damp gust of it just over your cunt and you whimper at how turned on you are by him just breathing on it. 
“Do you want me…..here?” he asks softly, the question a rasp from deep in  his throat and you’re in a daze when you look down at his dark brown eyes, his face tipped up to yours as he strokes the slick spot with the pads of his fingers. 
He doesn’t wait for your answer before he pushes his fingers further back to brush over your entrance and you are completely under his spell, your chest heaving and your body almost trembling with need. 
It’s filthy, what he’s doing, somehow even filthier than it would be if you were naked and while you would normally be much more shy about anyone doing something like this to you, the combination of him building this need in you all day and the way he’s looking at you with a lustful reverence makes you bold; makes you feel beautiful and sensual and so very brave. He’s looking at you like you’re a feast, like everything he’s ever wanted. Like a hunger he needs to satisfy now. 
He strokes his fingers against your seam, pressing the middle one firm against the dip of your entrance. When you let out a whimper, he grins — a slow spreading smug thing. 
“I bet your pussy feels so good. Bet it tastes good too.” He holds your gaze. “Would you let me eat it?”
When you nod, the way he looks at you has you feeling like you just willingly walked right into his trap; his brown eyes shifting into something pitch black and you are already breathing hard when he gently tugs your panties down over your hips, thighs, calves. You step out of them, never leaving the spread of his legs and his eyes are hooded and hungry, directed right at the juncture of your thighs. He drags his tongue slowly across his plush bottom lip. 
You let your eyes flutter shut when he presses his mouth warm and wet to the top of your thigh, his hum of approval felt along your skin when he gives it an open mouthed kiss and he’s so fucking close to where you need him, but he’s taking his sweet time getting there. He switches sides, the soft cotton of your skirt twisting in your grip and you let out a barely there whine when his teeth catch your skin, his tongue sliding between your inner thighs where he can already taste the salt of you. 
That undoes him - his eyes intently fixed on your face for a split second before he lays back, sharply tugging you forward with him. 
You think he means for you to straddle his lap, but when he shuffles up the bed and digs his fingers into the meat of your hips to guide you forward, you don’t even hesitate. Instead you follow him up, your knees sinking into your comforter around his torso and then his shoulders and ripping your dress over your head and tossing it onto the floor with your bra, the twin sounds of relief that you both let out when he pulls you down onto his open, waiting mouth are filthy and loud. 
“Jesus,” you pant, bracing one hand on the mattress above his head and the other on the wall and he answers you with a groan, his tongue licking a wide, deep path inside of you. You chase the wet warmth of it, your hips starting an instant, unconscious rock against his face and he encourages it, guiding them with his hold. “Yes. Yes.”
How the fuck you got from the slow, methodical, stripping of your clothes to this, you don’t know, but you can’t seem to care. He’s fucking you with his tongue and you are blinded by how good it feels, his hands splaying wide to keep you tight against his mouth and rather than being self conscious about being fully nude and grinding on his face, you act purely based on need - which is exactly what he wants.
You arch your back and drag your hips forward; again, again, just like you would if you were riding his cock and he plants his feet on the bed for leverage, his arms taut with the strength it takes to keep you on his face. His hands slide up around your hips, following the lines of your smooth sides and when the weight of your breasts fills his palms, you cry out with how hard he squeezes them in his hold. The sound makes him groan again into you, the tip of his tongue now focusing directly on your clit before he gives it a suck and your hand flies from the bedding to his hair, threading your fingers into the dark locks with a tug. 
“Ezra,” you warn in a pleading moan and you reach down to cup the crown of his head, his soft hair slipping in your hold. You cradle it between your thighs, dropping them open wider as he presses his face deeper and you roll your hips restlessly against his worshiping mouth. 
Wanting nothing to distract him from the task at hand, he doesn’t answer you. Instead, he shifts on the bed to slide two thick fingers snug into your soaked cunt and quicker than you can vocalize how good they feel, he’s rubbing something deep inside you while he sucks. His cheeks hallowed with the rhythmic pulse over your clit, a hungry, satisfied groan into your cunt when he feels you bare down on his fingers with a broken cry and when you arch your back and let go, he can feel it before he can taste it. 
“Please,” you beg, not even sure for what, chasing the maddening swirl of his tongue as the single point of contact is exactly the right pressure to keep your orgasm rolling. He feels just as good as he does in your dreams, his mouth practiced and competent, but what you didn’t imagine is that he would be so hungry for it, would do it with such a genuine need. 
You are fixed frozen above him for a moment, your hips jolting with aftershocks as he continues to lick you down and when you ease off, he doesn’t even wait a beat before pushing himself off the bed to stand. 
You lay there, catching your breath while you watch him pull his shirt over his head and swipe it over the lower half of his face before he lets it drop to the ground, his fingers immediately working the button of his jeans open. His movements are frantic and rushed, the thick, rigid bulge in his briefs outlined just for a moment before he tugs those off too and when you see his cock, heavy and stiff between his thighs, you immediately part your legs. 
Fuck. 
He kneels on the bed, bracing his hands around your waist to lean down and kiss the soft swell of your belly, the thin skin over your ribs, the bridge of his nose sliding along the sensitive underside of your breast before he pulls back, remembering something. The bed dips with his weight when he reaches over the side of it, and you admire the ripple of muscles along his bare side when he fishes something from his pants on the floor. A condom. 
He places it on the bed beside you before fitting himself between your spread thighs and when he smiles down at you before giving you a kiss, you match it with one of your own, humming in contentment. The weight of his body is solid, the warm firmness of his skin fitting and molding with yours, flush against the length of you and his scent, the one pressed into the cushions of his couch and the interior of his car, the one you’ve been chasing for weeks now, fills your senses as he presses himself closer. The slip of his hair, the plush give of his lips, the bristle of his sparse beard. The lean strength of his arms surrounds you, the taut thickness of his thigh fits under the curve of your ass and the heft of his cock drags along the silky skin of your thigh.
He doesn’t stop - nothing about him does. His tongue, sliding against yours like it wants to memorize your taste, his hands mapping every inch of your bare skin, his legs restless and moving, knees pushing into the bed for leverage as he rocks his hips forward into yours and you meet every single one of his movements with your own. He rolls his hips forward again into yours, a deep groan into your mouth when you wind your legs around his waist and flex to meet his thrust and the two of you move like that together until it becomes frantic, his hands squeezing a little too hard, your moans turning more into whines. 
He pulls himself away to kneel between your spread knees, the black wrapper of the condom crinkling between his fingers as he works it open and when you reach down to slip your fingers into the slick, aching warmth of your cunt, he keeps his eyes fixed there while you watch him. 
What is so hot about the act of putting a condom on? Is it the deft handling of his own cock? The weight to it, the way it stiffly bobs in his firm grasp? Is it the intent to fuck, the explicit implication of what is about to happen? Is it the slight hurry to the movements, as if he can’t wait to be inside you? Is it imagining him doing this a hundred times before — is it the experienced motion? 
Maybe, you think, swirling your slick fingers over your clit,  it’s the way he looms above you: his broad shoulders accentuated by his slight hunch, the dark crown of his hair as he looks down for a moment, his taut stomach, the tapered dip of his hips, the collection of dark hair that leads to the base of his cock that calls out for your touch. 
His throat bobs with a swallow when he finally gets it on, dropping down to brace himself over you and crawling up, he takes his rightful, needed place between the welcoming cradle of your thighs.  
“You ready, Birdie?” he asks, his husky voice intimate in the golden lit, early afternoon glow of your room and you answer with a nod, your eyes dropping down to his mouth before lifting your head to kiss him. 
A frown settles between his brows as he opens up to you, his hand cupping your jaw to keep you in place while he lines up to slide into you and the cry you let out into his mouth makes him harder than it should. 
It’s a lot - Jesus, it’s a lot - but more than the delicious, filling stretch is how good it feels. It’s so good you want to cry, even more so when he pulls out to slide back in again and this time your moan is met with one of his own; the deep sound strained with heavy breathing. It’s not only what he’s doing and how he’s doing it, but the sheer relief after wanting it for so long that the two of you cling to and he picks up pace, not being able to control himself.
“You feel so fucking good,” his eyes are clenched shut above you, your hands pressed into the span of his lower back as he rocks forward again, again and you encourage it, digging your nails into the meat of his ass. “You’re so tight. You’re squeezing me so tight.”
A moan breaks in the back of your outstretched throat, your mouth dropping open in a pant and his tongue traces a line around the corner of your jaw before he mouths it, another kiss pressed to the side of your neck as he tastes the skin there. You thread your fingers through his close cropped dark hair, tipping your head to the side to give him room to explore and your thighs hitch higher on his lean torso. “Please, you feel so good. please don’t stop - I need it. I need you.”
He says nothing, his brow furrowed with concentration, his eyes black with lust as he plants his knees wider on the bed for purchase and he thrusts in deeper, harder. Again, again. 
“Fuck - you feel so fucking good. You’re so wet. How long have you thought about this? Tell me.”
“All the time. Every night. Oh god — Ezra, I —“
He kisses you, a frantic thing and it’s all you can do to barely hang on as he fucks you deep into the mattress, his mouth taking, tasting, savoring with a groan. 
It’s overwhelming for you, the full stretch and weight of him inside, but it’s just as much for him. The fruition of this want he’s felt for weeks, he’s never been harder in his life as he shoves himself into you seeking relief and flashes of everything he’s wanted to do to you slip through his mind. 
You, riding him on his couch. You, bent over his work desk. You, pressed against the wall or kneeling between his thighs. Your vacation photo, the swell of your tits splashed and smeared with his cum. You, your mouth stretched around the base of him. 
These are the things that have haunted him for weeks, but more heady than any of them is the real thing underneath him right now: the lush give of your body against his, the soft pliant mold of your lips, the welcoming cradle of your thighs, the tight fist of your slick soaked cunt. 
Your mouth - the one he’s been obsessed with - he devours like it’s the source of life itself.
“Jesus Ch —“, and it’s almost pained the way he lets it pour out of his open, panting mouth. “You’re so fucking wet, I’m gonna come. You’re gonna make me come.”
You tense your jaw, forcing your hips against his in a rapid roll, meeting his every harsh thrust and the two of you lose yourselves in groans of long awaited satisfaction, in the rustle of your blanket under your writhing bodies, in the the bruising, needy grips you have on each other’s sweat damp skin. 
More, more, you want more and as though your body is speaking directly to his, he gives it to you - his arm hooking under your knee to tug it higher, so he can slide deeper. 
“Fuck,” you whine, the word coming out before you can stop it and the swell of your breasts bouncing underneath him as he fucks into you makes him thicken inside you, but the near pained look on your face does it even more. “Just like that. I want it – I want –”
You're babbling, so close to coming around him you can taste it with that deep spot he stroking inside and you can feel slick dripping from your cunt, sliding down the curve of your ass. You’re stretched beyond what you’ve ever felt before, so full and deep and satisfied and a tear slips from the corner of your eye, sliding down over your temple. 
He sees it, tongue scooping it up the salty drip before he gives you a bruising, greedy kiss and your hand wraps around the nape of his neck, holding his mouth to yours. Your breath mingling in a hot, humid pant, you can’t even kiss anymore because he’s fucking you too thoroughly and too hard and when you start to come, an almost sob slips out of your mouth; one that he soothes with a shush. 
“That’s it, Birdie,” he murmurs, “Come on it. I want to feel you come, okay?”
You already are, the tide cresting in your center overflowing with a burst and your cunt is a slick, tight grip around his cock when it starts, one that squeezes him so tight he lets his forehead rest against yours with a deep, strained groan. When you lock up underneath him with a cry, his hand slides down to cradle the bottom of your jaw, pushing it up to fit his face into your neck.
“Ezra!” His mouth rests open on the juncture of your shoulder for a moment before he bites down, shoving himself harshly inside while he floods the condom with his spend and as the two of you come together, you relish the pain that he instantly soothes with a kiss. 
“What about you?” you ask, rolling onto your stomach, looking up at him from the cradle of your folded arms. He shifts onto his side, his hand reaching out to caress the length of your naked back. 
It’s warm, the perfect temperature for lounging naked on top of the sheets and the sounds of the city in the late afternoon waft through your open window, coming in with the breeze. You are content and so is he; the matching, sated smiles on your faces saying so. He looks so large in your bed, your pink sheets complimenting the tanned flush of his bare skin and he can’t stop touching you, like he’s mesmerized by the softness of your skin. 
“Hmm, I don’t know. That’s a tough question.” He thinks for a moment, his hold reaching down to fondle the curve of your bottom and when you can tell he’s no longer thinking and instead playing, you swat his hand away. He huffs a laugh, sliding closer, slipping his hand around the curve of your waist to pull you next to him. “What was the question again?”
He’s distracted by how different you are here, than at his house. There, you are Cee’s friend: youthful, funny, sweet and kind. Here, you are those same things, but different: sensuous, more like a woman. He likes seeing this different side of you, having something for himself. 
For the two of you, to share. 
“Nevermind.” You lean closer for a kiss, one he grants and you hum against his lips, parting them only just to breathe him in. “Are you hungry? Want to go get some food?”
“Can we stay in?” He murmurs the question against your mouth, his nose sliding along your cheek before his lips find the shell of your ear and you lean into the warmth of his bare skin stretched out along yours. “I don’t really wanna get dressed.”
You laugh, his own deeper one gentle in your ear. “Sure. Lemme grab my phone.”
When you slide out of his hold, he sits up, scooting down the bed and you admire the image of his bare ass and strong, lean thighs as he walks down the hall to your bathroom. Picking up your phone from the bedside table, you see a text on the screen. 
Cee: How is your day off going? Wanna meet me for a latte?
It was sent over an hour ago and you push down the guilt of what you were doing when you received that text, closing the message app and opening another one to order food. After you place it, you set the phone down, thinking about the naked man in your bathroom right now. 
You stretch out, the pleasant soreness in your limbs and between your legs coming to life with the movement and rolling onto your stomach, you bunch your pillow up under your face and smile so wide the stretch hurts your cheeks. 
Afterwards, a man sated, he pours over your living room. The spines of the books, the pictures you’ve framed, the art on your walls. He wants to see it all — wants to see you all — and you let him have his look from your seat on the couch. 
There is something so intimate about seeing him wander around your hardwood floors barefoot, the same furrow etched into his brow as when he’s working and when he leans forward to look at the titles, you stay silent. His fingers dance along the spines of the books on your shelves, just like you’ve seen him do at the bookstore and you smile affectionately.
“A lot of mid century modern fiction here.”
You shrug. “I like the short, direct sentences. It’s clean. Neat.”
“Is this how you write?” He looks over, eyebrows raised. 
You wait a beat before you answer. “I try.”
He seems amused at your answer and when he moves to another bookcase to check those, you scoop up the dinner dishes and walk them to the sink. Coming back into the living room, you curl up in your spot next to the window and watch him pick things up and put them down. Walking around your space, he seems so big for it - and yet also right at home. 
“I recognize this,” he smiles, lifting the cover of a book Cee left behind. When he sees a picture of the two of you in a frame next to it, he stares at it for a moment before coming to join you on the couch. He sits down next to you, leaning back into the cushions and you feel a delight in being able to sit as close to him as you want, in the open like this. 
“So what do you do all night, when you aren’t at my house?”
“Write. Study. Watch TV, maybe.” You shrug. “Sometimes I —,” you stop yourself, your teeth resting on your lower lip and he thinks it’s endearing the way you look hesitantly timid. “Sometimes I turn all my lights off and open the window and just watch.”
You continue, braver at the way he’s looking at you — just listening, without judgment. “Watch the people, listen to the traffic. I like it. I like the….movement of it. The never ending show of people.”
You turn your head to look out the window and he drapes himself over you and leans in, doing the same. The two of you sit there for a moment, the breeze from outside skimming your faces and he can’t help but nuzzle the curve of your neck, giving it a kiss. 
“Like that guy.” You point to a man waiting to cross the street; hands in his pockets, headphones covering his ears. His expression is a blank one ��� one you’ve learned everyone has mastered while walking around this city. “Where’s he going? Did he just get off from work? Is he headed to work? Maybe to a friend's house, or home alone?” 
Peeking at your face, he recognizes an eagerness for life that he saw in himself when he was younger; an insatiable curiosity, but one more so of quiet observation than his way of action. Safer, he thinks. Better. 
“I think,” he murmurs, the curve of his nose gliding along the fine hair at the nape of your neck, “you might need some new hobbies, Birdie.” You smell like you, but also like him, and he likes that, inhaling a little more. 
You laugh, reaching back to encourage his gentle exploration of your skin. His fingers shift the strap of your dress to the side, his mouth tasting the uncovered skin there and when you move to face him, he settles back into the cushions of the couch. 
The spot he’s sitting in, incidentally, is where Cee always sits when she comes over. A clear image of her flits through your mind, and you know that the temporary silence right now would be a good time to ask him what he thinks the two of you should do about her - but you can’t bring yourself to say the words. 
That question is a bigger one, a topic you don’t want anywhere near this day you’ve had with him. Today was just for the two of you, a secret bud of joy unfurling in your chest that is yours to nurture and hold and so you push against the guilt, instead climbing onto his lap. 
“It’s getting late,” he says, his voice raspy and warm in his lean back to look at you and his hands wrap around the top of your thighs, pushing up underneath your dress. They find your hips, his cock stiffening his jeans at the memory of those hips in his hands earlier and when you bend forward to kiss him, a groan rumbles from his chest. 
He doesn’t want this day to end. He wants to stay the night and he could, he supposes. You’d probably let him, if he asked, but he knows Cee will be waiting for you in the morning at the coffee shop you frequent together and the thought of her makes him kiss you deeper, harder, his hands cradling your face to take deep pulls of your taste before he has to leave. 
He should break this kiss, but when you trail your small hand down his stomach and slip it between his legs to cup him innocently through his jeans, all logic flies out the window into the night air outside. 
“Do you – did you bring another…” you bite your lip, the heft of his cock fitting neatly into the cup of your palm and you roll your hips forward in time with the lingering, firm stroke you give him. 
“It’s – fuck, Birdie,” he grits out, his hand covering yours to press your hold tighter against him and he lets out a groan. “It’s in my pocket. I’ve got another one, just –”
You sit up on your knees to let him fish it out, your hands already working open the button of his jeans as he tears the wrapper with his teeth and when you stand up to slide your panties down your legs before climbing back up onto his lap, the two of you are in silent agreement. 
Not today. We won’t talk about this today.
779 notes · View notes
starsstuddedsky · 2 years ago
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Seungkwan
↳ As It Was
summary: working as a bodyguard for one of the most famous pop stars in the world turns out to be a lot different than you expect, and somewhere along the way, you find out you aren’t nearly as different from him as you thought… (wc: 10.2k)
Vernon
↳ Can I Make It Any More Obvious?
summary: telling everyone you already have a date to prom is a brilliant idea, until the one person you actually want to go with overhears (wc: 1.6k)
↳ Tangled in Love
summary: there's nothing in the world that vernon loves more than cats. at least, that's what you think (wc: 3.8k)
Chan
↳ Shall We? (1/4 of Soccer Boys)
summary: having a crush on your best friend made everything more complicated. would you be able to tell him how you felt, or will you be stuck in this limbo forever? (wc: 6.3k)
special:
Seventeen Halloween
Soccer Boys Masterlist
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heleneplays · 2 years ago
Text
this or that | tropes n stuff
tagged as blorbo in their notes by @pimenita on my main, @h-doodles but i like to answer them here on my side blog which has. a semblance of a tag system 🤡 so mrrp thank <3
MOVING ON PLEASE I AM SO EMO ABOUT TROPES CATCH ME WEEPING:
slow burn or love at first sight (BARK BARK BARK BARK!!!!!!!!!!!!!) // fake dating or secret dating (I would honestly like either but secret dating tops far than fake dating because bruh. being rather private individuals and running around the friend group my beloved) // ENEMIES TO LOVERS or best friends to lovers (PLEASEEEEE. LITERALLY I AM OUT HERE WITH A DEEP LOVE OF ENEMIES ESP IF THEY'RE UNREPENTANT, REDHEADS WOMEN WHO CAN KICK MY ASS 🤡) // oh no there’s only one bed or long-distance correspondence (BARKING SOOOOO BAD FOR THIS HONESTLY) // hurt-comfort or amnesia (IT'S ABOUT THE TRAGEDY TO MEEEEEEE I WANT A DEEP GOOD CRY AND GET THEM BLORBOS TOGETHER) // fantasy au or modern au (I AM PERSONALLY BITING BC YES. I DO LOVE ME MY AUs) // mutual pining or domestic bliss (ENEMIES TO LOVERS ACTUAL PINING IDIOTS TO CLUMSY GETTING TOGETHERS TO DOMESTIC BLISS SLOW BURN ALWAYS. ALWAYS!!!!!!!!) // smut or fluff (watch me read smut with a stone cold expression on MY face and blush like a bitch reading fluff the next <3) // canon-compliant or fix-it (fanfic exists as a love letter to canon but at this point the fandoms i've been in. THEY ARE A HATE LETTER to the creators who frequently sidelined chemically stable potential wlw and other lgbt ships and rep. which is honestly a very very different experience with James Shaw. anything I create for the Relics Trilogy is a love letter of thanks not only to him but to my beloved fictional group of blorbos <3) // reincarnation or character death (pls character death???? i LOVE it when done properly!!!! NOT TO MENTION THE ANGST....... MMMMM YES THE ANGST,,,,,, but REINCARNATION... LITERALLY TRANSCENDING TIME AND SPACE WITH A LOVE THAT LASTS... AND FINDING THEM BECAUSE ONE LIFETIME IS NOT ENOUGH-- I AM SO EMO ABOUT IT!!!!!!!) // one-shot or multi-chapter (writing wise i WISH i could keep my ideas as oneshots but as a reader PLS. LONGER THE BETTER and this is why i am die whenever i find a long fic that is both compelling AND finished bc. good godddd you cannot imagine the pain of seeing the date of the last update. yes i will comment completely about the fic gushing with praise but thats just abt it) // kid fic or road trip fic (PLEASE DOMESTIC BLISS WITH THEIR KIDS,,,,,,,,,,,, SCREAMING SHAKING CRYING) // arranged marriage or accidental marriage (listen i could wax poetic all day abt these two in fics but AUGHHHHHH mawwiage 🥺) // high school romance or middle aged romance (I COULD GO WITH EITHER but rn i am sooooo emo abt María so am going with this one) // time travel or isolated together (covid fucked me up about being isolated and i think i would have so many problems so catch me whip and naenae) // neighbours or roommates (oh my god.... and they were roomamates!!!) // sci-fi au or magic au (once again i am out here with AUs and honestly at this point idc i am just hoarding all the AUs and thats the tea) // Body swap or Gender bend (but only provisionally)  // ANGST or crack (AW YISSSSSSS GIMME THE SPICY ANGST I NEED TO SCREAM AND SHAKE AND CRY AND THROW UP ABOUT IT OR BUST,,, but honestly i also LOVE crack actually <3 wish fulfillment of OP and BAMF MC) // apocalyptic or mundane (rn?? looking for peace and i am out here)
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tagging the blorbo in my notes (if thats okay and you too, would like to answer): @jamesshawgames @haniiebeedraws @mira-shard @twins-born-in-a-new-moon @sylencr @slytherincursebreaker @sateenkaari-dragon @catohphm
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the blank template:
slow burn or love at first sight // fake dating or secret dating // enemies to lovers or best friends to lovers // oh no there’s only one bed or long-distance correspondence // hurt-comfort or amnesia // fantasy au or modern au // mutual pining or domestic bliss // smut or fluff // canon-compliant or fix-it // reincarnation or character death // one-shot or multi-chapter // kid fic or road trip fic // arranged marriage or accidental marriage // high school romance or middle aged romance // time travel or isolated together // neighbours or roommates // sci-fi au or magic au // body swap or gender bend  // angst or crack // apocalyptic or mundane
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ktinastrikesback · 3 years ago
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Listen LISTEN bestie about your 2x04 post, you are absolutely onto something bc if there's one thing 9-1-1 doesn't have it's throwaway lines. I'm consistently blown away by how overall TIGHT they keep the narrative. There are certain waypoint episodes (stuck, buck actually, what's next, future tense, Jinx, Parenthood)—and by the way i would LoVe your opinion on those—that I feel pave the way for the characters in purely subtextual ways (some of which as you've pointed out turned out to be true!) So yeah, what am I saying? Who knows, but the writers are absolutely insane, they make me feral.
Hi @kitkatpancakestack! First of all, your comments on my posts always make my day...thanks for supporting all of my crazy thoughts lol! Thanks for the ask, here's my long ramble for you😜:
Listen...I'm not quite sure I've watched any other shows that foreshadow so blatantly? The only other I can think of is This Is Us...which like...the whole point of the show is foreshadowing and hinting and interweaving different storylines. Is 9-1-1 as complex? No, but it's close enough! I mean, gosh, look at all of the hints dropped in the first few episodes of season 4 and how those ended up coming into play in the last few episodes. For example:
-4x01, Buck and Eddie in the elevator and on the roof. I wasn't here on tumblr at the beginning of the season, but I remember going on a HOT rant to my roommate about how the emphasis of Buck and Eddie being alone would come into play later. I didn't even read it as romantic, I literally was like "hmm, maybe they're going to end up in danger together near the finale" and? Look what happened.
-4x02, obviously, because it's us, I HAVE to mention the invisible string stuff...Again, I remember watching that and noting that okay, it serves a purpose in this episode and relates to covid, whatever. But I remember seeing someone here say (I was lurking) that the book Carla was reading from is intended for children dealing with a dead/dying parent. My brain immediately went: Will Eddie be in a coma or come close to dying? And.....look what happened.
And of course, Future Tense we already know set up SO much. The one-on-one phone call between Buck and Chris in Future Tense set up Chris running away to Buck in Breaking Point which set up Buck promising that he is there for him which set up Buck literally being there for him in Survivors? It's INSANITY. Each of these little moments are fantastic in their own way, but then when you string (see what I did there) them together, they paint a full, intentional picture? This is whyyy I read so much into everything.
Especially after this season and the way they so clearly laid out the blueprints for character arcs from episode one onward, I am SO ready to look over everything in 5x01, 5x02 and maybe even 5x03 with a fine-tooth comb.
We also have two lines that I think need to be re-addressed in season 5:
-First, "You don't find love, son, you make it." (2x08) This story and this line being in an episode about Buck's search for romantic love is SO significant, but we've yet to see how it directly relates to his love life at all. The relationship he entered into with Ali at the end of that episode was...a waste of time, he was single all through season 3, and now he's with Taylor...and like? How does this quote fit with that relationship? Answer: It doesn't, which is why it won't last. When this line gets called back, it will be significant, and right now, the only way it can meaningfully relate to Buck is through what he's built with Eddie and Chris.
-Second, "No comment, Taylor." (4x14) It's been on my mind since the episode aired, and since we know that the writers don't just throw in lines for the hell of it, we can assume that this will come into play at some point in Buck and Taylor's relationship. He doesn't trust Taylor. They tried so hard (not really) to convince us that Taylor has changed, that she is better for Buck now. And okay, yeah she's a little better, BUT we get this line plus her eagerness in Treasure Hunt to leave and go after the assistant story in the Maldives. If I were to bet money, I'd say Taylor's job is going to become a problem in season 5 and Buck ends up deciding to break things off because of it (what a cool parallel to Ali breaking things off with him bc of his job, huh?).
Looking at all of this and at how everything in 4x13 and 4x14 played out, Buddie happening by end of season 5 narratively makes sense. I'm feeling very confident about it, and maybe I'll eat my words later, but it just seems like things have been laid out so well over the course of season 4 (where I think we can all agree, something shifted with these two) that will end up (like the Buck and Chris stuff) painting a larger picture.
Anyways...thanks for the ask! I'll be here til we get that canon love confession 😂
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writingwithcolor · 4 years ago
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Hey! I’m currently writing a Jewish character and was wondering if this would be offensive: my character has a family where her mother is Jewish but her father celebrates Christmas, so they fuse their holiday celebrations to bring their two families together for any holidays that fall in line with eachother. Would this be a problem? I’m basing her off of irl friends who’s family does this, but I want to make sure it doesn’t seem like I’m erasing her Jewish heritage and pride. Thanks so much!
Celebrating Hanukkah & Christmas in interfaith family
No problems from me other than to note that I hope you meant to say that they're both celebrated, not that they're literally "combined." Because putting Christian ritual into a Jewish holiday would bug me, as a reader, but someone watching Mom light the menorah before going out caroling with Dad would not--for example. Does that make sense? There are plenty of interfaith families out there that do both, but keeping the actual practices separate is the best way to keep the Jewish ones Jewish. (And in my example I was picturing both parents there for each activity, so it's not like I'm calling for that much separation -- just, not bringing up "the meaning of Christmas" while you're literally telling the Chanukah story.
You may also want to decide if the character themselves is drawn in one direction or the other, or neither yet. (You said "Jewish heritage and pride" so from this I gather that's how she believes? In that case, is Christmas totally just a fun secular thing for her or is it something she regards as an outsider, religiously speaking?)
--Shira
I'm going to start by saying that interfaith families exist, and have a variety of ways of expressing their combination of cultures. I'm absolutely not here to argue with that, be negative about that very real way of life, or invalidate those experiences in the slightest. 
With that being said... people outside our community really, really love to show us celebrating Christmas, and Easter, and eating bacon, or doing anything else that might code us as assimilated (regardless of our internal identities). These are things that some Jewish people do, and I think it's absolutely good to show the breadth of the community, and the varied ways we express ourselves, but I do not, at all, trust someone outside the community to do that mindfully. 
In wider media, whether books, television, movies etc. Jewish characters are so often shown to be either assimilated, or from an interfaith family. Interfaith does not necessarily mean assimilated of course! But the fact of their interfaith relationship is often used as a convenient way to get the Jewish character into situations that are intended to show how "not really" Jewish they are. There is an obsession with showing us as assimilated, a delight that is taken in trying to prove that we either are exactly the same as the broader culture, or that our differences can be erased and eroded until we are. 
A Jewish person remains Jewish, whether they go to a Christmas party or not, whether they have shrimp at dinner or not, whether they marry a non-Jewish person or not, but the intent behind constantly showing Jewish characters doing this is suspect to me. This asker may not have this ill-intent, but frankly, it's hard to come by a character, written by a non-Jewish person, that says "I'm Jewish" in the beginning of a work, and then "oh, no thank you, I don't celebrate Christmas" in the middle, let alone even continuing to say "I'm Jewish" by the end.
When I read a work about interfaith families, and their specific traditions by a person inside the community, or coming from an interfaith background themselves, I'm interested, happy to learn about the characters, and their lives. When I read a work like that by someone outside the community it leaves me with a bitter taste in my mouth, and the feeling that even fictional versions of us are being gleefully, voyeuristically, intentionally assimilated.
-- Dierdra
1) If your character is invested in their Jewish heritage, celebrating Chanukah is not enough to show this. Please please please research our other holidays and traditions, talk to Jewish people who feel the same level of connection to their Jewish roots, consume #OwnVoices materials.
2) Agree with Dierdra that interfaith families exist and deserve representation, but that writing an assimilated character requires a lot of research and sensitivity; any blatant disregard of halacha should probably be avoided in case it is consumed in that voyeuristic way by the reader.
3) And with Christmas in particular, you can be close to touching a nerve because not all Jewish people have fond memories of Christmas, to say the least. To people of minority faiths, it can be the time when our othering is the most blatant and impactful (we’ve included some personal stories below). 
It would be best to listen to many Jewish experiences of December shenanigans, from people who celebrate Christmas partially or fully, to those who are indifferent, to those who have mainly negative associations and memories.
-- Shoshi
Our personal experiences with Christmas (Jewish Mods)
Also, as a note from all of us, discussing this question brought up so many stories about our own experiences with Christmas, and the culture surrounding it.  A selection of them are below, just to give an idea of what it can be like:
- Just not having lights up was enough to get our neighbor asking our then roommate if we were "you know... sorta..." When our roommate confirmed that we are indeed Jewish, he reassured him that it was "fine." It didn't feel fine to be told that though. I also had a neighbor ask what we were doing for Christmas once, and I said "oh, we do Chanukah in this house" just to keep it casual. She excitedly yelled back "JEWS!!" Even without Covid I was getting to the point where December was just a month where I tried to stay in, and avoid getting grumpy at people who are just enjoying their holiday (they just happen to be enjoying it everywhere, all the time. And sometimes kind of aggressively). God forbid you correct someone when they wish you a Merry Christmas. 
- Me too, it's the marketing, it's so aggressive. Last year I got so fed up with Christmas music being on in the office that I decided to bring a dreidel and spin it casually on my desk throughout the day, just so that my own space could feel like it was somewhat reserved for my own identity, you know? On day two of this, a colleague I didn't know that well came up to me and said, "Please could you stop doing that? It's really loud." I wanted to yell "NOT AS LOUD AS YOUR MUSIC!", but I didn't, I just stopped spinning it because I'm a darn pushover at times. I had to sit through my first hand-wringing 'how will we do Christmas with Covid?' conversation in about September, even though Pesach and Eid were both during the height of lockdown in this country and no one said a thing until after the fact. 
- I've had people scoff, and sniff, and make snide comments to my face in my old workplace when I politely reminded them that I don't celebrate Christmas. It can get so uncomfortable, just existing in the world, and Christmas can end up a really miserable time. 
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