#I just listened to a video of myself speaking and my voice was kind of deep and quiet w vocal fry I was like wait this is so hot

[pavelkaramazov]

I am suddenly noticing that my voice is deeper and raspier since I started smoking cigs and carts like it’s suddenly affecting my voice. Like HOW am I supposed to ever quit now I have never sounded hotter

[dvchvnde]

excerpt; best friend's dad | John Price x Reader infidelity. age gap.

He breaks your heart in Greece. Cuts a jagged line down your middle. Spills your wet, sticky blood over the Naxian marble outside of the Temple of Apollo with just a handful of words.

(fitting, you find: you've always considered your aimless pursuit to his heart some bastardised delusion akin to Icarus chasing the immovable sun—)

And you suppose it's kind. Or as gentle as a man like him could ever let himself be. Still gruff, surly. But you've always loved the sound of his voice, haven't you? That sarky growl reminding you of classic muscle cars, American-made; the low, gritty purr of an old Mustang. Enough to make you shiver, even as he's shaping it around these awful, cutting words. It makes you heart flutter, enraptured as he speaks like he's ripping a bandaid off.

Except that now that wound is being filled with salt. Acid. Cauterising itself from the friction burn when the gauze is wrenched off your skin. A permanent scar right in your sternum. A gaping hole spilling all the ugliness out. You wonder if he cares that it's being slashed across his shoes—no sandals, he griped when you teased him in the airport; I hate the feelin' of sand between my toes—that this madness inside of you is finding a home on the hot pavement, rotting under the summer's sun.

"m'thinkin' about marryin' her."

The her in question is ten years older than him. Pettily, you wonder if this is to compensate for the fact that he's nearly two decades older than you. An obscene age gap, you know. But—

It's Price.

Your best friend's dad. The man you've been in love with since you were sixteen. Falling all over yourself after a dumb boy broke your heart, and he offered to drive you home, silent the whole way there before he stopped, a block away from your house, and told you that boys weren't worth your time. Boys. Boys—

Not men.

Foolishly, you let yourself hope. Let yourself become the very thing they talk about in TikTok videos lambasting age gaps and silly little girls who let older men run them into the ground. Why would a man his age have any reason to be interested in a girl yours? Sickening. Disgusting. You're being lead stray, groomed. But you clung to it still, even as you thumbed through the comments on those videos and found pieces of yourself lying among the rubble.

You've always known what they say about girls like that. And you were just delusional enough to believe that you were different somehow.

And now—

"Gettin' older," he grouses out, and you wonder if she finds the ornery lilt to his cadence as comforting as you do. Or if it rubs her all the wrong ways. "Might be time to settle down."

Shamefully, you wish he'd say, but maybe you can convince me otherwise, climb into my lap, and eat this decision from between my teeth until all I see when I open my eyes is you.

But that's not the John Price you know. Mr Price. Single dad. Widower. Untouchable.

Mr Price who sees you for what you are—smarter than them, he'd said when you broke down in his Bronco after a softball game where everyone, your best friend included, went to an afterparty that no one invited you to.

Quiet, thoughtful, even when you spent the evening afterwards (the fight hashed out between your best friend and you; i'm so sorry and me too) thumbing through old vinyl records he kept in his basement, listening to the classics that kids your age just didn't understand, so why the fuck do you?

Weekends spent bonding over golden cinema (movies just ain't what they used to be; there's no romance anymore, it's all so—vapid; you don't talk like a kid; i've never considered myself one, do you? he didn't answer. you didn't expect him to). Listening to music older than your dad. Niche jokes and texts that read like I saw this and thought of you.

Your fault, of course, for thinking you could trick him into loving you if you played your feelings through Johnny Cash, Vashti Bunyan, Fleetwood Mac, and Smokey Robinson. An impossibility you know now.

Mr Price who knows you. Who sees through the thin skin you wear and into the heart, the core of you. Who must have known since you called him in the pouring rain to pick you up when you got too drunk to drive home. A house party in the suburbs. Waterlogged flats he told you to toss.

Said nothing at all when you apologised with your head pressed against the foggy glass. You never told him that your sorry, Mr Price was for kissing a boy and wishing it was him.

But he must have known.

open book. pages spilling out. silly little girl with your heart cupped in your palm—

So he knows. Has known. Hindsight says this is him letting you down gently before you get any ideas about forever with your diploma tucked into your chest like a shield. A trip to Greece with your best friend and her dad to celebrate the rest of your life looming over you like a thundercloud. Your eye slanting sideways, glancing yearningly back at him.

sorry, but no. look the other way—

And you think fine, fine, whatever, so long as this doesn't hurt anymore—but what comes out is, "oh."

What follows is this:

He says he's thinking about marrying her with his hands tucked tight under his arms. He tells you he wants to settle down with his chin tucked against his chest, four lines rucked across the pinch of his brow. An emphasis, perhaps, on just how serious he is.

You taste salt in your throat. Sand between your toes. The sun blisters against the thin straps of this pretty blue dress that match the melting sapphire of his burning gaze. It's heatsickness, maybe. Or just all the years of want building and building, festering and growing, until it can't climb any higher—forever reaching for god that won't spare you a glance—and—

falling down around you. wings of beeswax and bird feathers.

Solemn, he says, "it's what I should do."

(i saw this and thought of you—)

Your fingers knot into the soft cotton of his dress shirt, pulling the fabric taut between your knuckles until it peels back from the seams, curling between buttons.

You've had too much to drink. Whiskey sour. Scotch neat. Somewhere along the walk to the temple, you snatched a puff of his cigar, the nicotine blooming between your teeth. Head full of cotton too thick for you to think. To retreat.

In the morning, when he refuses to look at you, you'll blame it on the drinks. On the sun. On being young and dumb and untouchable under the Greecian sky.

Daddy issues, you can shrug. You have the diagnoses from every single TikTok psychologist embedded between your teeth. See, mine never loved me and now I'm taking it out on you—

But right now, you kiss him.

Or maybe—

Maybe he kisses you.

It's a mess in your head. Everything turned upside down, all askew because when your lips touch his, he shudders. His chest rumbles under your fingers, expanding with the sudden inhale as he breathes you in. Deep. Takes you into his lungs—all salt-slick, and sunburnt—and groans low in his throat, all want. All heat.

He should push you away. He's your best friend's father. Two decades older than you. Dating another woman who's so far removed from the person you are that she might as well be a different species. Mature. Stoic. Poised. Graceful.

The perfect antithesis to you.

Everything about this must be ringing shrill in his ears: abort, abort, do not engage. He should push you off.

And he does.

After a moment of your greedy, unpractised kisses pepper along the bristles hanging low over his lips, he makes another sound. Angry. Whitehot. His hands slip free from the damp prison of his armpits and latch tight onto you. Thick, hirsute fingers curling over your upper arms, and pushing, shoving—

Your back hits the marble pillar. The air in your lungs punched out.

But when you try to siphon more balmy air into them again, you find an obstacle in your way.

His mouth.

Searing, blistering. Slanting hungrily across yours, devouring. Intense, dizzying. Your head cracks against the wall when he shoves his thigh between the silken softness of your inner thighs, blanketed by the dress that made him swallow when he first saw you in it, eyes darkening like a storm.

(bit short, ain't it? he'd groused, and your friend slipped her hand into yours with a huff. stop being such a dad, dad—)

It slots there now like it's owed the right. Thick thigh spreading yours apart on a gasp, a groan. Corded muscle pressed taut to the seam of you that burns hot. Melted wax. Dripping against his leg. He must feel the way he liquifies you, turns you into putty. It drags a sound his chest. The misfire of an engine.

"Fuck," he breathes, all teeth. Salt. He should be saying, no, stop. go back to your hotel room, and we'll pretend this never happened, silly girl. But he pulls you closer instead, his hand looping around to cradle the back of your tender head in the cup of his palm. A small comfort as he delves his tongue between your teeth. "Makin' me lose my goddamn mind—"

The words are growled against your mouth. You taste the tobacco-smoked fury between his teeth when they sink into your lower lip. Angry, maybe, that you're making him do this. That you had to be who you are, and despite that, he kisses you like you're not.

"Price," you whine, arching into his chest when he pulls at your bottom lip still caught between his teeth. Skin tender, bruised. He ruts into you at the sound, nearly purring. You feel it then. The hard press of his thickening cock against you. Mindlessly gyrating against your hip. The turgid length proof of his desire. His want for you. All you. "Please—"

He folds himself over you. Tucks you into the bracket of his chest, his arms. His fingers are iron bars on your skin, holding you tight to him. Unwilling to let go. His hand on your crown; his fingers gripping your thigh, hiking it up his waist. It's good. Better than all of your meagre fantasies combined. You've wanted this since you knew what want was. When he wandered into the kitchen the morning after a sleepover with a towel slung loose around his hips, his hand scrubbing the damness from the wet tangle of his hair, spilling them down his neck where they disappeared into the thick bed of hair on his chest, his belly.

He paused in the doorway when he saw you sitting at the island, eyes wide and drilling holes into his chest.

"Shit," he'd cussed, gruff and mean with sleep. "Didn't think—"

But you did. Over and over again. With your face pressed against your pillow, fingers shoved into the sticky wetness leaking out of your cunt. Thinking of him. Wrong. Wrong. Terrible—

Dad bod, your friend said with a cluck of her tongue that afternoon. And you feel it under your fists as he heaves. As he eats you alive, whole. Because kissing John Price, Mr Price, is a whirlwind. A maelstrom.

He devours. He conquers. He owns.

He licks into your mouth, petting over your tongue, your teeth, until you can't remember anything else except the tobacco and whiskey tang of him. Heady. An elixir you want to sip from for the rest of your life. Damn him—

He tells you he's thinking about marrying someone else. Then whispers, ash-soft, against your chin that he can't get enough of you.

Grunts, "you need to go," as he sinks his teeth down, hard, into the throbbing skin of your pulse. Laying claim as he slowly comes to.

The coarse hair of his beard rubs your flesh raw when he buries his face into your neck. You can feel the thunder of his heart against the knob of your wrist. The heat of his skin burning through you.

"Fuck," he rumbles again, and you know this time it's for good. Ironclad. But the remorse is paperthin. "Shouldn't have done that, should have—"

"I want you," you whisper through bruised, kiss-bitten lips. "I want you so bad. I loved you since I was—"

"Don't."

The sweat beading along his hairline smears across the naked arch of your shoulder and neck when he moves; a shallow shake of his head. Muted and small. Heavy with reluctance.

The man who meets you when he pulls back is frowning with wet, red-stained lips. His eyes are hardened sapphire reinforced with unbreakable obsidian. There's no inch to move. No cracks to squeeze through.

"This—" he swallows. You hope he tastes you still. Whiskey sour. Scotch neat. The drag of his cigar, the one he coached you through, scoffing when you choked, when you cough. You hope he runs his tongue over his teeth and tastes nothing but you. "This shouldn't have happened."

You don't say anything. Can't. The words are staining his lips.

You nod, slow. Cautious. He tells you he's marrying someone else. Thinking about it. Says this shouldn't have happened—

But he holds you like he can't bring himself to let go. Fingers clutching, clenching tight around you. Possessive. Greedy, even he as he slowly unspools from around you. As he pulls away, scouring his hand down his face with a deep, ragged inhale. Rough, worn fingers digging into his jaw until the knuckles under a dense cropping of umber hair turn white, nails pinking under the strain.

"This isn't—"

You nod again. Soft and slow, but you let your tongue flicker out, chasing the smoke drying on your swollen lips. It stings. The burn makes you think of him. Of his hot, heavy hands on your skin.

His eyes drop down to follow the slip of red that teases out between your teeth, blackening as they trace the new wetness left behind. You can feel him twitch against your thigh.

Your name is a broken snarl trapped in the thick of his throat. You've never heard it like that. Never. It does something. Lights you up from the inside out. Supernova in his arms. Icarus burning, crashing down to earth—

Catch me, Apollo—

He pulls away instead. Detaches from you with a heavy groan, as if the distance that now sits between you hurts him just as much.

The silence is broken by the sound of the crowd just beyond the pillar. You can see the moment it settles over him in the flattening of his eyes, the erasure of all affection that bloomed bright in blue. The terse set to his shoulders. The distance, the space, that grows and grows and grows—

He clears his throat. Mr Price once more. Untouchable. Off-limits.

"You should go," he says, and there's not an ounce of give in the rough flatline of his voice. Fixed. Firm. "You should go back to your hotel room. Come on. I'll call you a taxi."

"And you?"

He sucks in a breath through his nose, nostrils flaring. "Don't worry about me. Just—go back to the hotel room. We can—we'll talk in the morning."

"Where'd you?" She asks when you crawl into bed, the starchy sheets rubbing against your sunbitten skin.

There is a deluge of things you want to say. Things like—

I'm sorry. I love him. I—

can't let go.

"I think I just got my heart broken," you say instead, and wonder when the tears are supposed to come. At the wedding, maybe. But right now, you just feel numb. Empty.

The bed creaks when she rolls over, facing you in the dark. "Really? Didn't know you were, you know, foolin' around with anyone."

"I wasn't. It's—" your dad. But you can't say that, can you?

There's something painfully nostalgic about loving a man you're not supposed to want. A man who cannot, should not, want you back. An unrequited love in a foreign land. Unconsummated in the summer's heart. Sticky, bittersweet heartbreak.

Or, that's what it's supposed to be.

They are not John Price, though. Your best friend's dad. And they didn't kiss you back—

But he did.

And you think it's the worst thing he could have ever done.

[themattgirl]

could you please make one where Chris and reader are dating and reader feels sick and Chris just takes care of her and acts all sweet and stuff? 🫠

an: thank you for the request ily 🧡

this turned out so much longer than i intended

this isn’t my first one shot but it’s the first with one of the sturniolo triplets in it. 

obviously their characters have been altered by me a little to fit into the story but i tried to make it as realistic as possible by keeping their personality traits as they are in real life.

also comment or like this post if you want to be added to the taglist

pairing: chris x fem!reader

word count: 4.1k

warnings: fluff, use of ‘babe’ and ‘ma’ as pet names for reader, intentional wrong spelling in text messages to make it more realistic, mentions of nsfw themes, swearing, lots of playful teasing between characters

y/n’s dialogue  

chris’ dialogue

matt’s dialogue

nick’s dialogue

mary lou’s dialogue

“it’s just a cold, nothing serious i promise. i don’t think i can come over today though, i don’t wanna infect any of you. i’m sorry for ruining movie night,” i say to chris on facetime before breaking into a cough. i turn the camera away from me, not wanting him to see me in a disgusting state like this. if i could, i would’ve muted myself so he doesn’t have to listen to it either. plus, i know how worried he gets with any type of sickness or unwell feeling really.

so, of course it wouldn’t be chris if he didn’t immediately furrow his brows.

“babe no, don’t apologize. you didn’t choose to get sick.”

he gets up from where he was sitting on the couch and goes downstairs to his bedroom. he puts the phone down so all i can see now is his ceiling. his voice sounds a little farther away when he speaks again, “it doesn’t really sound like nothing serious, does anything hurt?”

“to be honest, my whole body has been aching since i woke up this morning. it’s not too bad, just a dull ache, i can still move and all that, even if i’d prefer to just lay here and rot away,” i laugh and hold back the cough that wants to escape right after in hopes it would make him worry a little less. vainly.

“your voice sounds stuffy and kinda hoarse, does your throat hurt?”

“i forgot you turn into a doctor every time somebody doesn’t feel great,” i roll my eyes even though he can’t see it with his phone still down and him on the other side of the room from how distant his voice sounds.

“shut up, y/n. you feel worse than ‘not great’. you’re not fooling anyone with that act.”

he reappears on the screen. now i can see what he has been doing in the time i couldn’t see him. he put on a hoodie over the tank top he had been wearing before, the hair he had put up in a little ponytail - if you could even call it that - in the front has been untied and brushed. or maybe he just ran his fingers through his hair a couple of times, that’d be more like it.

“anyways baby, imma call mom real quick. be right back,” he hangs up before i get the chance to respond.

i put the phone down next to me on the bed i’ve been in since i realized this morning how much it hurt to stand up and how i felt like i was gonna throw up every time i moved too hastily.

i took a deep breath - well, as deep as a breath can get when your nose is clogged - and closed my eyes to try and concentrate on something other than the throbbing pain in my head.

i feel so much worse than how i described it to chris and i feel bad for kind of lying to him, i do. but he has been dealing with so much of his own lately - new designs for his brand, fixing the shipping issues with some of the orders from his last drop, coming up with video ideas and prefilming those before him, nick and matt go on tour again, preparing everything for said tour - see, he really doesn’t need me to add to his things-to-worry-about-list, especially if he can’t do anything to fix it and it’ll go away on its own anyway.

i feel my phone’s vibration from somewhere in between the sheets and grab it. it's messages from nick.

hey y/n heard your not feeling so good (:/ smiley) i was really excited to see you again today but don’t you dare feel guilty for it

i know how you guilt trip yourself into thinking everything is your fault

its kind of a good thing bc now i have time to get the matching pjs we wanted

hope you feel better soon tho

matts sick too maybe you got it from him when you helped him decorate his room yesterday

I hey y/n heard your not feeling so good 😕 i was really excited to see you again today but don’t you dare feel guilty for it

word spreads faaast 😂 i’m so sad i gotta wait another week or so to see you again i only like sleepovers cuz of u but dont tell chris 🤫

I i know how you guilt trip yourself into thinking everything is your fault

seriously i hate that yk me so well 😐

I its kind of a good thing bc now i have time to get the matching pjs we wanted

at first i was like 🤨 but then i kept reading i LOVE YOUU SO MUCH OMG just so yk chris was the second option

I hope you feel better soon tho

me too now i’m excited for the pajamaaas 😫

I matts sick too maybe you got it from him when you helped him decorate his room yesterday 🤔

i’m gonna kill him like fr this time

hey where tf is chris??

talking to mom shes teaching him sth honestly don’t ask idk

ok 😂 i think im gonna take a nap talk later?

yess get some rest and lmk if you need anything ❤️

ly❤️❤️

after sending the last message i get a call from matt. i contemplate not picking up for a second but decide against it.

“what?”

“uff, what’s that attitude?”

“i’m sick because of you, shithead.”

“we don’t know that. what if you’re the one who passed it on to me, hm? besides, i was just calling to tell you to drink some water and to ask if you need anything. i was actually being nice but you clearly don’t deserve it,” his voice is just as bad as mine, if not worse which makes me feel a little bad, but matt wouldn’t be one of my best friends if i had to worry about him getting mad every time i’m not nice. that’s actually how we bonded after annoying each other every chance we got. we both have a bit of an attitude problem which caused a lot of irritation and aggravation. now we get along better than any pair of best friends. the teasing stayed in place, but now we both know there’s only endless love behind it. sometimes you just gotta let off a bit of steam and we both just get that.

“fine, i’m sorry. sickness really does turn you soft, huh?” i smirk.

“why’re you saying it like you just confirmed a theory?”

“mary lou told me once and i’ve been waiting ever since to see for myself, guess she was right.”

“you are actually the worst. i’m hanging up now. drink water, bye.”

he hangs up the phone and i laugh to myself. what a big baby.

i open chris’ chat and type in a message telling him i’m going to sleep and that i will call him once i wake up again. i don’t bother waiting for a reply and just put the phone on my nightstand. i turn on my side, close my eyes and after that i don’t notice anything anymore.

i jolt up from bed, breathing heavy, body sweaty and heart racing. my room is dark, lit up only by the moon shining through my window. i look around trying to remember where i am and shake the nightmare from my mind.

i reach for my phone and check the time.

11:43 pm

i turn on the flashlight and right when i notice a black jacket hung over the back of my desk chair i hear footsteps coming closer.

chris pushes the door open and steps in.

“oh shit, did i wake you?”

“no i had a nightmare. what are doing here?”

i sit upright in bed and turn the flashlight off when chris flips the switch to turn on the fairy lights around the edges of my ceiling.

he moves to sit on the bed next to me before he answers, “i had mom teach me how to make her get-well-quick-soup and brought you some. she also told me about the perfect remedy tea, i can make it for you,” he stands up again immediately, “i’ll heat up the soup for you first. shit ma, have you even eaten anything today?” he stands by the door, holding the handle but looking back over his shoulder at me.

“chris,” i honestly don’t know what to say to him. he is so sweet i have to fight the tears that build up on my waterline. i just look at him for a moment, a little smile ghosting on my lips.

i’m well aware of how caring, considerate and compassionate chris is as a person in general, but it still baffles me sometimes how much he goes out of his way to make others feel good. i guess i’m just not used to it, being loved like this, having someone do everything that lies in their hands - and beyond that - just for me. it’s astonishing to say the least. especially when i myself have had issues with showing how deeply i cherish somebody ever since i can remember. it’s probably rooted somewhere in my past and how my affection has been received and responded to, that’s what my therapist says anyway.

i shake myself out of my thoughts and move the blanket away from my body to finally get up. immediately chris is beside me, holding me in place, “what’re you doing, ma? stay here i’ll bring it up,” he talks quietly, trying to get me to take in my previous lying position but i stay put on the ground.

“babe, i have been in this bed almost all day. i need to get up. i’ll just come down with you, we can eat together in the kitchen,” i try to convince him.

he looks at me, an uncertain expression on his face for a few seconds, the gears in his head almost visibly turning while he thinks about it. at last he lets out a sigh and nods, “alright then, hop on my back,” he bends over in a piggy back position in front of me and i can’t help the laugh that escapes me.

“you do know i can walk, right?” i ask still chuckling.

“i know, come ooon, just do it,” he urges me on and wiggles his hips, making me laugh even harder when i climb on his back.

“you’re gonna be so sick tomorrow, chris,” i complain mournfully once he lets me down to sit on the kitchen counter while he gets to heating up the soup he brought.

chris insists he’s not prone to catch a cold or any sickness easily, no matter how contagious or how close to the source he might be, even though he has proven himself wrong multiple times on more occasions than he cares to admit.

“no i won’t. besides, i could use a few days off even if i have to be sick to get that,” he lets out a huff of air trying to make it sound humorous, but both of us - and everyone who knows chris for that matter - knows that he is exhausted and is in desperate need of a break.

i know he doesn’t want me to get serious about that topic right now though so i try to change routes, “oh my god,” he turns around from where he was stirring the soup on the stove and faces me, confused about my shocked exclamation. i point an accusatory finger at him, my jaw hanging low but a smile still creeping it’s way on my face.

“so that’s why you’re here. you came to try and get infected, that’s why you carried me down too even though you know damn well i coulda walked by myself. and i’m here thinking you were actually being the best boyfriend on earth. turns out my man is a piece of shit,” by the end i fail to stay serious and let out a giggle. well, it’s not like he actually believed that i meant what i was saying but still.

he lets go of everything he was holding, turns around to me fully and begins to stalk toward me slowly.

“oh yeah?” i don’t know if it’s just me or if he’s doing it on purpose but all of a sudden his voice sounds deeper, his face more stern and serious.

“is that what you think then? i’m just a piece of shit?” he makes me nervous at first but the second i see the smirk on his lips i know exactly what’s about to follow.

“chris. no.”

he is standing right in front of me, so close he has positioned himself in between my legs, his hands on the counter on either side of me, trapping me. the finger i was pointing at him long since taken back.

“am i a piece of shit when i make you cum with just my tongue?” his face is so close now.

“stop,” i say quieter than i mean to, almost whisper-like.

“or when i fuck you so good you can’t walk right for days, am i a piece of shit then?”

this asshole is doing it on purpose. he knows i would never have sex with him when i’m sick so he’s trying to rile me up the little fucker. have i mentioned that i actually hate him. like for real hate him. the type of hate that leads to an absolutely mindblowing fuck. shit.

“or yesterday when you told matt you needed a break and came downstairs to my room to suck me off and then you just wiped your mouth and went back up like nothing happened. did you do it because i’m a piece of shit?”

my jaw is on the floor.

“or when–”

“OKAY,” i practically scream, “you’re the best and i didn’t mean what i said, just please stop.”

i’m almost whining at this point.

i try to rub my legs together to ease some of the friction unnoticeably but chris is like a hawk, sees everything, notices everything. and then he smiles. just smiles and goes back to the soup.

later that night, after i was forced to eat almost all of the soup and drink two cups of magic tea while chris downed a cheese burger, fries and three of the last four pepsi cans i had in my fridge, we snuggled up on the couch with a heavy blanket that chris had also asked his mom for, thrown over both of our laps and a random movie playing on the tv. 

neither one of us actually felt like watching something but we threw it on as background noise anyway. chris and i have barely seen each other in almost two weeks so all we want right now is to enjoy each other's company. he has been so busy with all that’s coming up for him and his brothers, still is. and i've been studying like crazy because i always feel like i won’t pass if i don’t and when i wasn’t busy with that i’d be at work to earn my living and feel like i’m doing enough. so there wasn't really time for us to actually be together and get to enjoy it. i've missed it.

“you know you’re probably sick because you exhaust yourself all the time,” chris says when he turns to look at me.

“shh,” i shush him with my eyes closed and a smile on my lips, “i got it from matt, no discussion.”

he lets out a little laugh at that, “yes discussion. if you keep going like that, one day it’s gonna have more serious effects on your health than a cold. you don’t even need to do all that. how many times do i have to tell you your life is worth enough even if you don’t work yourself half to death and have a little fun every once in a while,” he rubs my thigh while talking. chris knows better than anyone that i don’t like being put on the spot and lectured about my not-so-healthy habits like that, especially when i know exactly that it’s in fact very unhealthy. but he also insists on having these talks with me because he knows i would shut out everyone else who’d dare to try immediately. he and his brothers are the only three people i have let come so close and they make use of that quite often, might i say. but it’s okay because these people are my best friends and i know i need to be put in check sometimes, i admit. nobody else would dare try but them so i just let them. 

i must say, it has helped me improve my life to an extent. they taught me that it’s okay to cut ties with people who are bad for my mental health and encourage bad habits, and that i don’t owe shit to them even if they want to make me believe that. they kept telling me “quality friends are worth so much more than a big amount of bad ones” until it finally clicked in my brain and i blocked half of my contact list.

“look who’s talkin’. mister i work twice as hard as the person i try to lecture,” i jab my finger in his side and he jerks.

“you know that’s different,” he holds my hands in his to stop me from doing it again.

i like feeling his hands on mine. i know he’s my boyfriend and it might be weird to say it like that. but i haven’t seen him in so long, which means i also haven’t felt him in so long. it’s crazy but it almost feels like in the beginning when we were scared to touch each other and would act like we accidentally brushed our hand on the other but we both knew it was fully on purpose.

chris pulls me out of my thoughts again when he speaks, “at least i have an end in sight and work’s gonna be way more relaxed once i’m done with everything. with you there’s always–”

the ringing of his phone cuts him off and he takes a look at the caller id, his mom. he narrows his eyes at me and gives me a look that says “we’re not done yet” but picks up the phone and holds it up so she can see the both of us on the screen.

“i was going to ask chris about you but since you’re with him please pinch him for me,” is the first thing mary lou says when she looks at us. and i gladly do as she says even though i don't know what he did to deserve it.

“oww, what was that for?” chris asks whining and i just shrug and chuckle.

“you told me you would bring y/n the soup and go back home. you lied to me.”

i turn to him with my mouth hanging open, “christopher owen, how dare you?”

it’s so fun to aggravate chris.

he furrows his brows at me and then looks back at the screen, “she literally begged me,” he straight up lies. “i was trying to tell her i didn’t wanna get sick so i could only drop off the soup and blanket and would have to leave again but then she started crying–”

i hit him for real this time, hard enough to make him suck air through his teeth.

“mary lou, don’t believe a word he says.”

“i know, darling, you wouldn’t do that. chris, that’s twice you’ve lied today.”

“sorry, mom,” he actually looks defeated now, “you know i can’t just leave her all alone when she’s like this. i lied because i didn’t wanna worry you. i won’t get sick though,” at that me and her give each other a knowing look but let him continue, “y/n’s weak and in pain, of course i’ll be by her side as much as i can, you probably knew i was here, that’s why you called me,” chris wiggles his finger at his mom with a cheeky smile while she’s trying to hide her own.

“alright, alright,” she gives in, “that’s how young love is, i guess. anyway, have you eaten the soup yet?”

“almost all of it,” i report proudly, rubbing my stomach.

“only forced,” chris side-eyes me and i roll my eyes at him.

“and the tea?” mary lou just keeps going. well, i definitely know where her son gets the caring from.

i grab the mug that’s been sitting on the table for two hours and could now be considered iced tea and hold it up for her to see, “this is my third,” i take a sip.

“very good. okay, well, i just wanted to check if chris is taking good care of you. it’s important for you to get enough rest, don’t go to sleep too late, alright darling? i have to go now but if you need something just give me a call. i’ll talk to you both in the morning. good night, i love you,” she blows two kisses as we tell her we love her and then she ends the call.

right when chris puts his phone down we hear the doorbell ring.

we both glance at the direction of the front door as if we could see through it and figure out who’s standing on the other side. then we turn and look at each other.

“expecting someone?” chris asks me and i just shake my head no and shrug unknowingly.

“open up!” the voice sounds muffled but it’s unmistakably matt.

chris rolls his eyes and sighs loudly and i just giggle.

he moves the blanket and gets up to go open the door but stops in his tracks suddenly, turns around again, bends down and kisses me.

“won’t be able to do that for a while if he’s here,” he explains before he goes.

matt and nick do complain every time we kiss in front of them, so we agreed on trying not to do it anymore. they act like little kids being forced to see their parents being all lovey-dovey with each other. at least one of them always yells “GET A ROOM!” as if they’re not invading our personal space. big babies, like i said.

“what’s up, bitches?” nick walks in wearing the pajamas we wanted to match, holding up his hands. one holding what i assume is my set of the exact same one and a pillow in his other hand.

i jump up from the couch immediately and squeal as i run toward him to hug him.

“what are you doing here?” i ask once we let go of each other, our smiles still as big as ever.

“since chris is here breathing in germs and this one,” he points his thumb over his shoulder where matt is giving chris a pajama pair, “is already sick i thought we might as well have our movie night here since i’m getting it from one of you either way.”

“i’m so happy,” i squeak, elongating the words.

“aren’t you happy to see me too?” matt acts sad and offended when he moves to stand next to nick.

i roll my eyes but give him a big hug, “i am actually.”

chris scoffs and we all laugh. he moves to stand closer to me and i wrap my arms around him, tilting my head to look at him.

“you guys can go in the kitchen, grab some snacks while me and chris put on our pajamas,” i say to nick and matt, my eyes still locked on my boyfriend.

they do as they’re told once the’ve put down their things and soon enough they’re out of sight.

“you good?” chris asks me quietly, stroking my hair gently

“yeah. i just realized our alone time is over,” i respond in a hushed tone.

he gives me a kiss on the forehead before he talks, “it’s okay, we’ll just go up to your room when they’re asleep. nothing’s keeping me away from you tonight.”

hearing it makes comfort spread in my chest in a way i didn’t know i needed right now.

“i love you so much, chris. thank you for everything,” i try to sound genuine, because i truly am.

he holds my chin between his thumb and forefinger and dips his head until his lips meet mine.

“i love you too, ma.”

taglist:

@strniolosworld @that-general-simp @sturniolosreads @whoreforchr1s

[kcwriter-blog]

Just recently I asked myself an important question. Why do I, a person not usually into angst, continue to romance Solas. It’s not like it’s going to end differently. My Lavellan will always get her heart broken. 

The simple answer? It’s worth it. There is a gentleness in how they treat each other that you don’t find in many real-life relationships much less in a video game. It’s soft, quiet, and tender. It’s what love looks like after years with someone you truly care about.

How can that be? Solas isn’t being honest with her. To Solas’ credit, he realizes that. He takes her to Crestwood to tell her the truth. When he realizes he can’t, he breaks it off. Which in and of itself is an act of love.

What he is honest about is his love for Lavellan. He never denies his feelings. A case in point is the aftermath of the first kiss. It would be so easy for Solas to say that he just got caught up in the moment. He doesn’t. He may say that it’s been a long time and that he thinks a relationship isn’t a good idea, but he never denies that he has feelings for her. Even when he breaks it off, he refuses to lie and say she was a casual dalliance or that he doesn’t love her. 

For her part, Lavellan never pushes Solas. When he asks for time to think, she grants it. “Take all the time you need.” She understands him. He has trust issues. Getting into a relationship with her would be a big step for him. She may not know what made him that way, but she cares enough to let him decide if a relationship is something he truly wants.  She is willing to wait.

This demonstrates a respect for each other and for their budding relationship. They are honest about their feelings. They are willing to take it slow. They talk about it like adults. They go into it knowing there will be risks.

An underrated aspect of the relationship is the conversations where Solas shares his recollections of things he saw in the Fade. Solas isn’t just randomly pulling stories out of his hat. He is telling Lavellan about the things he saw that meant the most to him. He is opening up to her, trusting that she won’t laugh at him or dismiss him. For her part, she actively listens. It’s a quiet kind of loving and, for me, one of the most intimate things you can do in a relationship.

The balcony scene is another place where this plays out. Solas wants to be with Lavellan. He has come up to the balcony to tell her that. He still has reservations. He wants her but he doesn’t want to hurt her. 

Lavellan knows he must be the one to make the choice. Instead of kissing him, she puts her hands behind her back. If he wants this, he will have to kiss her. He balks. She asks him not to go. Many people interpret this as begging. That’s not it. She is telling him, quietly, that if he leaves, she won’t wait any longer. “It would be kinder in the long run but losing you would…” He can’t. He loves her. He decides to take the risk. 

There is also a strong spiritual component to their relationship. Solas isn’t attracted by her physical beauty. He is all about the spirit. To him she is wonderful. Someone wise. Someone who thinks before she acts. He calls her beautiful in Crestwood, but I think he is talking about her soul, not what she looks like. 

There are many other small moments that give us clues as to what their relationship looks like post balcony scene. Solas attempts to comfort her at the Winter Palace by dancing or taking her in his arms. She reassures him that he can trust her. They hold hands in Crestwood. He calls her “my heart” and it’s clear she is precious to him. His voice when he speaks with her in Crestwood is intimate. It’s a vocal tenor we don’t hear anywhere else. He remonstrates with Sera when she jokes about his relationship with Lavellan. 

I find it interesting that even if Lavellan is angry, when Solas finds the broken orb she isn’t fist pumping because he didn’t get what he wanted. She treats him with kindness. 

He goes out of his way to tell her what they had was real – or that she was right to be angry. No matter what happened they acknowledge each other’s feelings. 

Everything paints a picture of an intensely private, intimate, loving relationship. That’s what I love about it and it’s why I keep coming back for more. 

[teaboot]

Your post about art vs content got me thinking about the differences between the two. To me there is no difference besides the mindsets. One is of creator and the enjoyer, the other is content and consumer it removes the personhood, the joy/emotion, from the equation. Like a writer or video creator may not see their work as art so content creator maybe a way to refer to themselves comfortably but it sounds so machine, emotionless and lifeless, like a cookie cutter recipe mass producing something verses people lovingly crafting something...then again Disney uses a cookie cutter recipe for the most part and it brings out bangers cause people lovingly make it their own so maybe I'm thinking too hard on this

Does my long-winded rant make sense?

see, I get what you mean, but I still feel like the willingness to entertain calling art of any kind "content" reduces it to the facet of consumption where in reality, the experience of consuming art is not the sole defining trait of it.

Reducing arts like music, writing, painting, dance, voice acting, theater, etc. to the role of "content"- a thing created to be consumed, measured and valued by how pleasant or easy it is to digest- I feel that it was our biggest red flag to herald the incoming tide of AI "art".

Because if art is "content", if arts are nothing but consumable matter, then obviously the key to success is to produce as much soft, tasty, edible paste as we possibly can at the lowest possible expense.

It's the same issue I have with "meal replacements", diet culture, nutrient slurries, twenty-step skincare routines, 24/7 body padding and shapewear and laxative teas and "grind culture". It's not a cause, but a symptom, of the disease that is late-stage capitalism.

Things must be produced at low cost and remain in high demand forever. Things must be perfect and palatable and the new hit trend forever. People must pay hand over fist to consume without asking anything in return, and if they start dropping like flies at the unending unrewarded thankless demand of it all, then that must be treated as a weakness. We should all take pride in how much we can spend, pay, give, produce, and think as little as possible about what we ask for ourselves.

So, who cares if, of two identical paintings, one was made by a person and one was made by a computer program? It's the same work, so what does it matter? What does it matter?

I am an artist. I make art. I ask a question, make a statement, declare something horrific or challenging or upsetting or wrong or grotesque, and when you respond, we are together experiencing a conversation. We are existing, two people living one life and reaching out and touching across time and space. No matter the work, you're at the barest minimum saying, "I'm alive, and you're alive, and at one time or another we shared this same world, and at the end of the day we aren't too terribly different. My heart is worth sharing, and your heart is worth the struggle of understanding."

An AI-generated piece, a computer-generated voice, a CGI puppet of someone long since dead and gone, they cannot speak. They have no voice. Ay best, they are the most chewable, consumable, landlord-beige common denominator possible that you can sit and listen to like the lone survivor of a shipwreck listening to the same three songs on a broken record, and at worst, they're the uncaring vomit of an empty, unloving, value-addled hack wearing the skin of someone I know over their own.

When you abandon art to say that you make content, that should not be a point of pride. That's an embarrassment. That's not sitting down for an intelligent discussion with an equal, that's kneeling at the feet of the crowd and saying, "what do you want to see me do? I can be anyone you've ever loved. I can be them, I can be anyone, as long as you love me."

I can make content. I can be consumed. What do you want to consume? I'll make myself consumable. I'll make myself just like anything you like. And I'll make so much of it that you'll never have to go anywhere else, because it'll all be right here, and under all the cut-and-paste schlock you've seen before I will sit alone in the dark and the silence and I will know that I am safe, because I am valued, because I am desired, and I need to be desired or else I am worthless like a factory that no longer churns out steel or a hen that no longer lays eggs or a cow that is too old to make milk.

Content, the most literal meaning, is something which is contained inside a container. What it is doesn't really matter, and the best it can hope to be is something worthy of being scooped out and used.

Art is an experience that transcends value. Art is something you can eat without paying for. You can make it out of anything and anyone can do it. It can be crude and vulgar and bad, and that's a strength because it means something. It always, always means something, and it doesn't matter if you like it or not. It's not content because it doesn't fill anything. It's a living, breathing thing, and whether you want to birth it or eat it, then you're going to have to be willing to put the fucking work in

[jadenvargen]

or tutorials for how you color? (i'm new to digital art (literally like a day in) and it's tricky for me but i love your coloring style. i'm working on this thing w very high contrast shading and coloring is haaard

It's very tricky especially going from traditional to digital! My first pieces were a rotten mess let me tell you. I'm working on making a draw with me or video tutorial for how I color and approach art to be posted to youtube, I just can't record the voice-over until my throat's recovered. I'm not a native english speaker so it's kind of embarrassing to listen to myself speak but I really wanna make it.

[mauvecherie-writes]

Forever Is A Longtime: part one.

pairing: ex!lewis hamilton x black f!reader

summary: a relationship is never truly over until it is. the road to that conclusion is long and filled with temptation.

warning: MINORS DNI 18+ explicit smut, dirty talk, non-protective sex, oral sex, phone sex, angst, unstable emotions. not edited thoroughly (I got tired)

notes: thank you for being patient, thank you for loving me, thank you for reading. it’s unstable emotions from the protagonists but this is the beginning. please leave feedback and comments.

word count: 4.07K.

TIP JAR. TAGLIST.

Today had been a long day and you were more than ready to get into bed as you leathered your face with your last layer of night cream. Your date with Zain had been splendid as always. He took you on a date to one of his friend’s gallery, that he was showcasing a new collection. You even bought a couple of pieces that would go well in your apartment.

Everything about Zain was … nice. Of course he had other redeeming qualities but he was just kind of boring in the sense that he didn’t spark anything within you. But you were going to stick it out. It had only been six dates thus far and there was room to grow. You did like him and were going to give him a chance.

You sighed as you left the bathroom and turned off the lights, ready to snuggle into your blankets. As you pulled on the covers, ready to lay down, your phone rang, vibrating on the side table. You glanced at the screen and your heart dropped within the cavity of your chest.

Lewis.

Did you want to pick the call up? No. You knew what it led to. So you tried your best to ignore it. Silencing your phone and declining the call, you placed the phone back down and made sure that your bonnet was secure before you laid down. Your phone screen lit up again - this time with a text message.

Lewis: Pick up the phone Princess. I miss your voice.

Fuck, he always knew the right words to say. Princess was your favourite nickname and he was the only person who called you that. The phone began to ring again but this time you sighed as you pressed the answer button.

“What do you want?”

He chuckled into the receiver which sent chills down your spine. “There she is. Fucking missed that beautiful voice of yours.”

“Lewis, seriously. What do you want?”

“You don’t even miss me a little, baby?”

“I don’t, actually.”

He chuckled in dismissal. “I’ll give you that but just listen to me for a bit.” You licked your lips letting the drawl of his voice wash over you.

“I’m by myself and I was thinking about you. Then I started watching that video we made on my birthday last year. You remember it Princess? When you let me fuck you in the ass and you came so hard you almost passed out. Fuck, I’ll never forget that.” Lewis groaned before continuing. “I swear every time I close my eyes, I can feel you around my dick.”

“Lewis…” you mumbled his name as your legs clenched at the memory of the night of his birthday. The same video that he was describing was kicked away in your hidden folder on your phone. You were tempted to watch the video yourself but listening to him speak was far more enthralling.

“Sssshhh, just listen.” You could hear shuffling from his end before a soft groan left him. “I’m touching myself right now, I can’t stop myself. Wanna listen to me come all over myself to the thought of you bouncing on my dick?”

You only answer with a soft whimper which he took as the green light to continue. As he described what he was doing to himself, your fingers had moved down to rub your clit through your underwear - slightly teasing yourself, needing so much more than what you were getting right now.

“My dick is so hard thinking about your tits bouncing in my face. They’re so perfect and begging for me to suck on them.” His voice was shakier than before. “And your clit is rubbing against the base of my cock and you’re letting out that sweet moan I love so much.”

You gasped at the vulgarity of his words and then followed through with a whimper which Lewis hummed in response. “Yeah, that’s the one. Always sounding so good. So sweet for me.”

At this point, you were touching yourself. Your fingers were deep inside of your cunt, steadily bringing yourself to a climax with the taunting of his words. You couldn’t mute your wetness and it was so loud, it could reach Lewis.

“Fuck! Are you touching yourself Princess? I can hear how wet you are and it’s all for me.”

“Lew.”

“Princess.” His voice was strained as his breathing became heavier. “Fucking miss that pretty hole so much. Miss fucking you until you can’t remember your name.”

You rolled onto your back and shoved your fingers deeper into your pussy, moving them faster and faster. Your breathing became heavier as you lost yourself in the self-pleasure.

“I wish -.” You whispered. Your sentence was broken by strangled moans escaping you.

“You wish what baby? Tell me.”

“I wish you were here, fucking me. I want you stretching and filling me up with your big cock.”

“I think about doing that everyday.” Lewis whispered which caused walls to flatter around your fingers.

“But you’re so bad for me.” You replied.

“But I make you feel good don’t I? I always do.” You hummed having no words to give him as you closed your eyes to imagine Lewis in between your thighs bringing you to climax instead of your fingers.

“I can hear you’re about to cum Princess.”

“I am!” You gasped out loud as you moved your hips to the pace of your fingers.

“Me too baby.” You could hear the frenzy of his fist over the length of his dick as he worked himself into an orgasm. “Thinking about filling you up.” He hissed continuing. “Giving you all my come until it’s leaking out you —.”

“Daaadddyyyy fuck!—.” You exclaimed as you came all over your fingers. Hearing you reach your climax triggered his own. Lewis’s grunts came out loud as his come landed all over his stomach and chest. He whimpered as the last of his spent dribbled down his length.

The both of you were silent as you tried to steady your breaths.

“You good Princess?” He asked you.

“Yeah…” Your voice sounded so wreaked as you tried to control the tsunami of emotions that was about to come from within you. No words were shared but the increasing feeling of shame was galling at you. And as if he could pick up on your silent irritation, Lewis said.

“What’s wrong Princess? Talk to me.”

“Did you just use me to get your nut?”

“You want an honest answer? Or do you want me to lie to you?”

“Oh you bastard!” You exclaimed.

“Don’t pretend like you don’t like our little phone —.” Before he could finish the sentence, you hung up the phone call. Lunging the phone into the pool of your blankets, you hid your face into your pillow and screamed into it. Just like that, your high had been ruined and all you were left with was anger. As much as you wanted to ponder on what had just happened, it was not worth the headache that would follow right after.

The weight of your orgasm drifted you to sleep with the only thought of dealing with Lewis being left on your mind.

The very next morning, you prepared for work but before you arrived at your store, your Uber dropped you off at Lewis’s building. Flicking your silk press over your shoulder, you strutted through the lobby confidently.

“Hi Dimitri!” You greeted the security at the front desk. “Is Lewis upstairs?”

“Y-yes, Miss YN! Good morning.”

“Good morning.” You winked at him as you walked to the resident’s elevators. Your nerves had been fried since the previous night. Seeing Lewis in the flesh was completely different than speaking to him on the phone. It had been seven months since your last physical encounter. Luckily, your schedules made sure that the two of you rarely bumped into each other.

Typically after a steamy phone call session with Lewis, there was small talk and then you wouldn’t call or text each other for a few weeks until that itch took over. However, with the way things ended last night, the record needed to be set straight. Your relationship was over - the both of you needed to move on. YOU needed to move on and cut ties with Lewis.

It was the best thing to do.

You arrived at his floor and just before you could knock on his door, it swung open and he was standing in the door frame.

“How did you know that I was coming?” You softly asked. His lips quirked upward as leaned sideways, his weight falling on his hip.

“Dimitri phoned to let me know.” Lewis then moved to the side to allow you to enter into the penthouse. The place had not changed at all since your last visit. It was clean yet there were a few dog toys scattered in the open living room area.

“Where’s Roscoe?” You asked as you looked around and listened for the dog’s snoring.

“He’s with Nic.” He replied.

You nodded your head with a soft sigh as you placed your purse onto the couch.

“We need to talk.”

“Oh really?”

“Yeah.” You took a deep breath as you straightened your back. “We can’t keep doing this shit Lewis. It’s getting out of hand. We clearly don’t give each other what we want.”

“I think last night showcased how clearly we do give each other what we want.” Lewis replied as he encroached onto your space. “We’re just simply … a little volatile.”

“And that sounds normal to you?” You enquired, your eyebrows furrowing softly.

“I live a pretty abnormal life, Princess. So this is quite normal to me.”

You scoffed in response along with rolling your eyes. “You’re not taking me seriously.” You huffed.

Seeing through your faux stance, he pulled you into his arms. With the limited space in between you, Lewis untied your trench coat and slit his arms around your waist, tugging you even closer.

“I’ll take you seriously when you actually mean it.” Lewis spoke softly as he tried to look into your eyes but you kept your gaze on his T-shirt covered chest. His skin was so tanned, so bronzed from being sun touched from his vacation. Taking advantage of your aloofness, he dropped his head into the crook of your neck.

“You’re not here because you’re mad at this and what we did last night.” Lewis mumbled as he placed light kisses on your neck. “You just wanted the real thing, knowing I could never deny you.”

Your eyes flattered close as he sucked on your skin, pushing your coat away from your shoulders. He took note of your gold satin blouse and black pencil skirt but he was more focused on getting you into his bed.

“Lewis …”

“Sshh.” He hushed, placing a finger against your lips. When you looked up at him as your mouth softly parted, the touch of your warm breath against his finger was enough temptation for him to grip your head in his hands and capture your lips in a heated kiss.

All rationale was lost the more you became more engrossed in the kiss. One touch from him was enough for you to forget your intentions - whether they were true or not. This was what you hated and loved about Lewis, his ability to crop your world view to just the two of you.

You barely focused on his hands trailing down the length of your body and stopping at your hips before he pulled up your skirt to your waist. You sighed as the cool breeze of the penthouse touched the skin of your legs. He picked you up in his arms and you automatically wrapped your legs around his waist.

As Lewis walked towards his bedroom, the kisses were tender yet with a deep passion you always yearned for. You sucked on his tongue with your fingers caressing his beard.

Soon, he dumped you on his bed and rushed to strip your clothes away from your body. You let out a yelp as you tried to crawl away from his heavy hand that was smacking your thighs. But Lewis grabbed your ankle and dragged you towards the end of the bed and proceeded to hover above you.

“We’ll always find our way back to each other YN. All it takes is for you to stop denying it to yourself.”

“Stop talking.” You grabbed him by the neck and pulled him down to you for a kiss. You arched your hips forwards to rub yourself against him.

“You want to be fucked baby?” He taunted you as he moved his lips down your jawline. “Hmm? Answer me gorgeous.” He whispered against your adam’s apple as he rubbed his thumbs into your flesh.

“Yes - fuck.” You begged.

Whenever you were beneath him, Lewis never wanted to rush, he always savoured these moments. He kissed every inch of your chest, down your torso before he settled in between your parted legs.

“You’re so fucking beautiful.” He groaned as he gazed upon your bare pussy. Your scent was intoxicating, so musky and sweet to him. He could never forget you - no matter how much he tried.

“Lay back for me Princess.” He instructed you and the moment your head touched the pillow, he dove straight in. He slid his tongue from your hole to your clit, swirling the muscle around your bud before he came back to your hole and pushed his tongue in. The intrusion caused you to gasp and reach down to grab at his head but he let out a warning growl which forced you to drop your hands back down onto the bed.

“Oh fuck! Baby - fuuu -.” Your breathing was already heavy as you tried to steady yourself but his mouth moved everywhere it could. His movements were sloppy but it was desperate in a way that you enjoyed. He was letting you know that he missed you.

“Look at me.” You whimpered as you got to your elbows. With your pussy in his mouth, his brown eyes held the most fierce eye contact as he rolled his tongue over and over. Your eyes rolled to the back of your head.

“Shhiiittt.” You choked on your moans as he worked on your clit. The stimulation on the bundle of nerves had you thrusting your hips into his mouth, chasing that orgasm that was so close. He held your thighs open, fucking you with his tongue until you were shaking. One hand came to the back of his head and the other to your breast to pull on your nipple.

“Yes, yes, yes! I’m gonna fucking come!” You warned Lewis. You heard him grunt in response but it barely reached your ears as white noise took over. Your body tensed up as your climax peaked and then crashed through your entire body. You weren’t too sure if you had clamped your thighs around his head but you felt Lewis’s hands and hips move along your body until he was hovering above your face.

When you finally opened your eyes, they trailed down his now, naked body with his thickness nudging your thigh.

“Welcome back to earth sweetheart.” He smirked down at you. A smart remark was at the tip of your tongue but you focused on wrapping your legs around his waist instead.

“If I didn’t want your dick inside of me, I would have pushed you off.” You mumbled as you placed your hands on his biceps. Lewis chuckled before licking his lips. With the hand in between your bodies, he led his cock into the warmth of your cunt.

“You always have a smart quip but can’t seem to take it when it’s given back.” He murmured as he licked down your neck as he snuggled deep within you.

“You’re so big, shit.” You whimpered, catching the hitch of his breath against your cheek. Your walls were snug right around him and it took a moment for him to focus.

“Some things never change.” He quickly found his pace. Steady but not too fast. It had been a while since you had slept with anyone, let alone him - it took some time for his thickness to adjust to breaching your pussy. Lewis kissed you and slipped his tongue into your mouth as he maneuvered your legs into his arms which caused him to feel like he was deeper than he was before.

“Baby.” You groaned as you closed your eyes and felt him press against your spot repeatedly.

“You’re so fucking perfect. You always are Princess.” He whispered as he brought you to meet his thrusts. His fingers were digging into your flesh as he did so but you didn’t care for the pain of the pinch. It felt too good.

Fucking you was always something that Lewis committed to memory. The way you smelt, the way you felt around him, how you moaned for him and only for him. It was disheartening that your relationship with him had to be like this but the most carnal parts of him could not let you go.

Ever.

You pushed against his chest as the pressure in the pit of your stomach began to rise. Lewis dipped his head to kiss you again, deeply and hungrily.

“Don’t stop … please … just like that.” You choked as you clenched around his dick. Your moans couldn’t be stopped as he picked up his pace until you were screaming beneath him.

“There you go, beautiful. Getting wetter and wetter the harder I fuck you.” His pelvis was slapping against yours. Each pound stimulated your clit which left you withering until tears were lining your lashes. Watching you fall apart at his hand fuelled him. It was addictive and it gave him the greatest pleasure to watch you cry out his name and have your cunt squeeze his dick for all that he is worth.

He wanted to tell you that you were his, that you belonged to him but it was pointless. You knew that already - no matter how much you denied it to yourself.

He buried his face in your neck and sucked on your skin, hard. You knew that it would leave a mark but neither of you cared. Without words, your arms tightened around him as your orgasm washed over you. Your whole body shook with after waves which made Lewis grunt loudly in your ear.

“Look at me.” You whispered before you held his face in your hands and watched as it contorted in pleasure as he fucked you through your climax until he reached his. The moans left his sweet lips and you swallowed them all in a passionate kiss. He filled you up with his seed until you felt it dripping out of you and wetting your skin.

You held each other, making out until your erratic heartbeats calmed down. You signaled for a switch in position and you ended up on top of him. Looking at the clock on the wall, you still had more than an hour until you needed to leave for work.

Lewis was still semi-hard inside of you and you could feel him hardening further from just watching you above him.

“Why can’t we ever be normal?” You asked.

“Like I said before, Princess. Normal is boring and that’s not who we are.” Lewis replied as he settled his hands on your hips and caressed your skin with his thumbs.

You rolled your eyes at his explanation. “But it’s not healthy, Lew. The back and forth is getting tiring. It’s either we work together or we’re not.”

Lewis sat up and wrapped his arms around your torso. “I’ve always wanted you. I want you in every possible way that I can have you.” His speech was sounding good, great even. However, it was incredibly unfortunate that his phone vibrated at that moment and disturbed the moment.

Naturally, your head turned to the side table and looked at the lit up screen. And thank god that you did. A frown immediately drew on your face as you rushed to grab the device.

“Who the fuck is Madison and why is she texting you asking about your date later on today?” The bitterness in your tone could not be hidden.

“Princess —.” Before he could even finish what he had to say, you had jumped off his body, ignoring the loss of fullness, you threw his phone in his direction.

“You really fucked me knowing that you had a date tonight?!” You brashly exclaimed as you hastily put your clothes back on.

“Oh come off it! Don’t act like you didn’t come here wanting to get fucked.”

“Get over yourself Lewis! I genuinely tried to have a conversation with you and then you did that - that.” You waved your hands in front of him toward his direction before you continued. “That thing you do to distract me because you don’t want to have the conversation!”

“Don’t act like you didn’t have any free will to push me off and leave my house, that you willingly came to by the way.” Lewis rushed off the bed and put on his sweats. “Not only did you not put up any type of effort to stop me, you fucking wanted it.”

“Because you keep playing on the fact that I can’t deny you!”

“You won’t deny me YN! There’s a difference! It’s like every single time, you’re actively trying deny what is the complete obvious!”

“Because it’s toxic Lewis!” You yelled. “We get together, it’s sparks, it’s fireworks and it’s amazing but in mere moments, we’re at each other’s throats and then we’re not speaking to each other until the cycle repeats itself! We’re behaving like we’re children here and it’s tiring! I’m tired.” Your shoulders slumped as the back of your eyes began to pinch with tears. Your bottom lip was beginning to tremble but you sucked it into your mouth to hide it.

“Then let’s end it all know. I hate this energy between us baby, I hate it as much as you do. I’ll message her and you message Zack or whatever and we cut it off and we get back to us.” He tried to reach for your hand but you took a step back which halted any further action from him. He looked at you with sunken eyes. They were brimming with an unshed sadness and despair that you were unwilling to confront.

You couldn’t think straight.

“Like you said. We’re volatile - completely unstable when we’re together and at this point in our lives and careers we cannot afford that type of instability. This has got to stop Lewis. No texts, no phone calls - nothing. We need to end this.” The finality in your tone should have scared Lewis off but as he peered into your eyes, the anguish riddling you was pleading out to him.

His heart felt heavy as he placed his hands on his waist. Lewis’s head fell forwards, his braids creating a curtain around his head as if to offer some protection to his unveiling feelings. Your pointed shoes came into his frame of view but he only lifted his head when he felt your lips on his cheek. They lingered for a breath longer.

The deafening silence echoing in the room that once been filled with cries of your desire.

When you tried to move away from him, Lewis grabbed your face into his hands once more and kissed you. There was no softness, just pure desperation lined with hopes of salvation. The pleading from gnashing of teeth. The sobs vibrating from chest to mouth as the emotional tsunami awaiting was being mocked to shore.

He tore his lips away from you as if scorched from the embrace. Lewis opened his eyes and retracted his body away from you, forcing you to do the same.

This time, he did not make a move to stop you from leaving physically but he did with his words.

“I’ll never let you go YN.”

“You need to try.”

Leaving him standing there rocked you but not much more than the conviction in his tone. Even as you tried to increase the distance between you and the man who truly held your heart, nothing was more truer than his parting words.

The worst part of it all … you did not want to let go either …

@dhlfastestlap @queenshikongo3 @kindan3rdy951 @ricciardosheart @lewiscrown @sarah-ev @mercedesjpg @playgurlxoxo @scorpiobleue @leilaxaliel @amorestevens @nomnombibblenibble @honey-prinxess @ohkapten @aisharmi @bahatibloom @meganwestan @theonlyblue2 @mangodreamsicle @jayvila0 @royallyprincesslilly @felicity-x0 @fineanddandy @olyvoyl @chaneajoyyy @melodicheauxxo @lewisthot @lh44adore @mimihopie @paradisehamilton @riasrecs @weetjy @mochachocolatteyaya @lewisroscoelove @valkryienymph @miyuhpapayuh @write-fromthe-start @stronglikemusic

[seoul-bros]

Neuron MV

Hope on the Street Vol. 1 is out now. Listening to the album, I am struck once again about how meticulous J-Hope is with his projects and how unique he is as an artist. He always has a clear vision of what he is trying to achieve and that is reinforced and reiterated in every aspect of the release. Just look at the titles for the documentary and you'll see how that urban, graffiti, street aesthetic is also reflected in the Neuron MV.

And that is before you come to the music itself. J-Hope has a clear and unmistakable voice and here I am talking about both his rapping and singing and his thematic choices. His lyrics tell you all you need to know.

"NEURON, it responds to my mind NEURON, it responds to my life New run, a time for myself, once again Get my nerves working again, just like the younger me, dive My body’s freestyle, still freestyle My timeless soul, a whole new type Such a deep-rooted tree, like deep-spring water 'Cause these neurons are the cells that awakened me"

He speaks about life as an individual journey of passion, growth and reinvention but tempers that focus on self by prioritising kindness, tolerance, love and the building of bridges of understanding between us all.

People are front and centre in this video. From the youthful Hobi stand in, who provides the thread that weaves the story, to all the individuals going about their lives in the hectic chaos of a modern sleepless city.

Together but separate, connecting, impacting, merging, the many faces of the city, neurons tingling, images chasing through the mind.

Bro, you got me all emotional!

Post Date: 29/03/2024

[blu3b3rryj4mp1r3]

Sort of long ramble about why I love Owl City =]

I've been listening to the Of June EP from 2008 a lot lately and it's so magical. The lyrics of Adam Young's music always feel so imaginative, like they are written from the perspective of someone who loves life.

When I listen to Of June and Ocean Eyes I feel like I'm floating on clouds, walking through glittery winter landscapes breathing in fresh air or sitting on a beach with white glistening sand and the most aqua blue clearest cleanest ocean in front of me. It's so dreamy and and the sounds sound so sparkly. I'm in a world where time is still and I'm absolved of all my stresses of past traumas, gender dysphoria and worries over the future. Nothing calms me as much as this music does.

Another thing I love about his music is Adam's voice! The way he sings is so smooth, like all the lyrics just flow together- It's hard to describe since, I don't know much music terminology but it's so soothing, like someone singing you a lullaby. I vocal stim a lot by singing and It's very fun to try and copy his like "intonation" if that's the word (inflection? the way he sings lol).

I love to daydream while listening to Owl City, picturing little animated music videos in my head featuring my favourite characters or characters that I've made up myself. I've always loved daydreaming and can imagine things very vividly; the scenarios and landscapes his music paints makes it so perfect to imagine to. Every song feels like it tells a story that I can see in my head when I listen to it. That's why I find it so inspiring as well!

I love the way he words things and the way it makes life sound as beautiful as it is when you are little and experiencing everything for the first time. "Vanilla twilight", "oceanic vistas", "struck a sparkling tone like a xylophone", "the glow in the dark stars on your ceiling, will shine for us", "I won't ever prove statues can move. But I like to think they do", "strawberry avalanche".. idunno he just describes things so beautifully and the lyrics are so full of imagination, it's so whimsical.

I love the reoccurring themes of the ocean/water throughout his music as well, it feels so fresh and cleansing in a way. Listening to it is like breathing fresh air on a cold winters day.

And I have to say the references to insomnia in many songs hit home for me lol. My c-ptsd has given me terrible insomnia and I also struggle with depression, it's comforting to hear those kind of things brought up (not only because I feel less alone about it but) in a way that makes it feel like it's okay that is that way and life isn't over because of it, that that feeling will pass.. if that makes sense? I mean in Owl City's music even when things are sad there is always hope. I think I lack hope a lot of the time, I can feel like giving up easily, it's nice to be reminded that life isn't over because x,y and z. "I dont' need a telescope to see that there's hope and that makes me feel brave"

If anyone read all that I hope it was somewhat coherent, speaking of insomnia it's 8am and I'm not asleep yet xD

TLDR: If you're looking for calming music to imagine AMV's of your OC's to and you like dans/electropop and maybe are a little bit emo, I think you should check out Owl City! 🩵

[high-functioning-fang1rl]

One Side Of The Knife! AU

What if instead of possessing her, Chucky, still fixated on the future he once thought he had “raising” Nica as his own, feels a paternal and possessive/protective kind of ownership of her. After killing her family, Chucky manipulates Nica’s trauma and strained relationship with her family and lies- he tells her he’s her biological father, twisting the story in an attempt to get Nica as part of his ever-growing group of lackeys- err, Family.

* * * * *

“Just fucking do it already.” Nica grit out, her voice wavering slightly.“Get it over with.” Stuck in her chair, the straight jacket dug into her sides as she leaned as far away as she could from the face of her nightmares.

The redheaded killer doll tilted his head, his plastic features amused. “If I wanted you dead, you’d be tits up by now. I was never gonna kill you, Nica. I came to make things right!”

Shuddering, her eyes unwillingly darted over the brutalized remains of Carlos and Dr. Foley, sparking with indignation as she fixed them back on Chucky.“You call this making things right?” she demanded incredulously.

“I never wanted you to take the fall for what I did. I just couldn’t help myself! I was just so angry at your Mom. She ruined everything!”

A breathless sob left Nica. “Stop.”

Mercilessly, her tormentor continued.“And I couldn’t stand to see how your sister- how everyone in that fucking house- treated you. They didn’t appreciate you, Nica.” He took a jerky step forward, and the helpless woman flinched. “I told you. We’re family!”

Her eyes closed, falling shut against the pain, the memories assaulting her all at once; the thunder, her sister, Alice-

* * * * *

Sprawled out on the floor of her home, Nica’s mind had felt as broken as her body. As the impossibly still alive Charles Lee Ray stalked towards her in doll form, she could only think of one question. “Why us?”

“Didn’t your mother ever mention me? I’m an old friend of the family.” the rough, sinister voice sounded bitter.

Nica shook her head, still trying to understand the human Charles’ presence in the old family videos she’d seen mere hours- but what felt like a lifetime- ago.

“I can’t say I’m surprised; most people want it kept secret when they…step outside of their marriage.” the doll taunted. “But when she decided to have you, well…” he shook his head. “I begged her to be a part of your life, promised her everything she could ever hope for. But she was a selfish bitch- selfish enough to keep her own child away from her father.”

As the weight of the words registered in her brain, nausea swirled in Nica’s gut, her head spinning. “No-” she choked out.

Oblivious to his victim’s distress, he shrugged. “I guess she had planned on Daniel taking my place.” His voice lowered into a growl. “But no one replaces me. So I did what I had to do.”

Tears blurred her vision, and she hastily blinked them away. “You’re lying.” she said, more for her own benefit and sanity.

“Why would I lie to you, Nica? Any father worth his salt would fight to be in his kid’s life. And she took that from me! From US!”

As if Nica’s world wasn’t shattering from underneath her, he told her how he’d killed Daniel, drowning him and staging it as an accident, holding her mother captive in an attempt to keep their “family” together. With growing horror, Nica listened as he apologized for stabbing Sarah through the stomach when she betrayed him, forgetting in his rage that he may not only hurt Sarah in his quest to make her pay.

“You did this to me.” She realized with a sinking sense of certainty.

“No, Nica. Your Mommy-“ he bit the word out sarcastically “-did this to me. To us. She betrayed me. Got me killed. Took your father! It took me twenty five years but believe me, it was worth the wait. Twenty five years. Since then, a lot of families have come and gone: The Barclays, the Tilly’s, but Nica, your family was always my favorite. And now, you’re the last one standing…So to speak.” He laughed. “And after all this time, we can finally be a family!”

* * * * *

Grounding herself back to the present, Nica weakly protested. “We’re not.”

The doll laughed. “Come on, Nica- didn’t you ever wonder why you never fit in with your family? Why you always wondered what your Dad was like, why you were treated differently? Your mother never accepted the fact that you were mine, that you were damaged. We were the ones she never accepted, she threw away.”

Nica did her best to ignore the thousands of instances that came to mind where she had been ignored, left out, or misunderstood. The numerous times Sarah refused to talk about Daniel or tell Nica about her father, or treated Barb as the favored sibling.

“But…you kill innocent people!” she burst out, looking around at the carnage around her.

Cackling, Chucky waved his arm around. “I wouldn’t call any of them ‘innocent’, kid. This asshole was asking for it- what kind of father would I be if I left him alive after everything he did to you? The guy was a sicko!”

Nica couldn’t really argue with that, wisely staying silent.

He continued. “I came to get you out- ya know, since it’s my fault you’re here and all.” Chucky surprised her, cutting through the straight jacket with ease. “You don’t hafta come with me, but if you don’t have anywhere else to go- if you want family again- your Old Man would be happy to make up for lost time.”

The doll awkwardly turned around with jerky movements, rendering her speechless as he left her alone in the office, giving her a choice.

The silence was suddenly oppressive, the sick, sinking realization that he was right churned in her gut; She had no family left. Her Mom, her sister, her brother-in-law were all gone. A few tears escaped as she added Alice…her poor, sweet baby, to her list of losses.

She was considered a criminal, a murderer. Her only option besides going with the murderous Good Guy Doll was to willingly stay here, drugged and restrained against her will, taken advantage of and abused, surrounded by people that thought she was crazy.

Examining her “choices”, she found she didn’t really have one.

At least if she went with him, she could possibly learn the truth, grim though it may be, about where she came from, who she was- if she belonged anywhere. He may not hurt anyone else if she was there with him, if she wasn’t in trouble or danger.

Still not believing what she was about to do, Nica took one last look at the bodies in front of her, offering a silent apology as she made her choice and wheeled her chair out of the office and after the killer doll…and into an uncertain, unknown future.

*****

And there it is! What do you think? Let me know if you’d be interested in me continuing this little AU! Thanks to @series-thoughts for the inspo!! 😍🥰

[lady-of-endless]

thank you also for the trade!! i’m so excited for it!! <3

okay so my name is anayeli but i also go by sora, im 16 and im hispanic! my pronouns are she/her, but my gender is unlabeled. my sign is aquarius and my personality type is INFP.

i’d like to be perceived as a stand user also, and i love animals sm (even if im allergic to them) iggy is one of my favs. im honestly pretty introverted and i usually only talk to people if they talk to me first, i like to stay indoors a lot but once im outside it’s hard to get me back inside. im honestly just like a big nerd and i have many childish interests and im really bad at hiding it. i tend to get burnt out a lot if im consistently socializing and i sleep a lot because of it LOL, but usually that’s enough to recharge my battery. i’m definitely a night owl and i love staying up until the sun rises, mornings are not for me i dread them the most. even still my makeup and hair is always done and i like to dress in like a y2k mcbling-ish style. i have a huge fear of driving for some reason im a designated passenger princess LOL. i don’t really play any sports but i do occasionally hit the gym. i’m honestly kind of a negative person i usually only speak badly of myself rather than highly. i listen to all kinds of weird music, ill literally listen to anything besides like normal mainstream, i cant function without it. i’m a big fan of video games even though i don’t get the chance to play them often. i’m honestly more book smart than street smart, im really slow and honestly kinda like dumb LOL. making decisions and pressure is not my thing. my love language is gift giving and physical touch, im not very good with words and get flustered easily 😭 but i also have a very sensitive temper when it comes to defending the people i love, and i also have enough self respect to defend myself, whether it be verbally or physically

tysm for reading!! i really hope it wasn’t too much 😭💞

Author's Note: My God, this was a hard one. Why? Because you seem such a nice and complex person. Again, I'm sorry for not being able to make up my mind and choosing two charters. Hope you'll enjoy this, thank you again for this trade! GIFs are not mine, I'm thanking the creators for them.

I match you with...

Muhammad Avdol

- He is also more of a mediator in general and this will make you two get along well right from the start. Plus, as much as he tries to act as the voice of reason for the group he too has a sensitive temper sometimes.

- He is drawn to you because of your uniqueness and realness. He admires how in tune you are with your feelings. He understands when you need to take a step back and recharge your social batteries.

- I feel like you two would work surprisingly well. Despite him looking rather serious, he too likes to have a good laugh and engage in childish antics when he's in a good mood.

- Iggy admits that he only finds you and him the most pleasant to hang out with in the group, so when he notices the spark between you and Avdol, he's pleased.

- If Avdol finds you asleep, don't worry, NO ONE will get to disturb or wake you up because he'll make sure of that. Both he and Magician's Red who becomes very protective of you.

- As a professional fortune-teller, of course he'll ask the cards about how your dynamic will change in the future once he realizes that he's falling for you. Joseph catches him while doing that and it's game over for him. Poor Avdol won't be able to look at you affectionately from afar without Joseph winking at him and teasing him about his crush.

- Avdol doesn't mind the fact that decision-making is not your thing but the fact that you speak badly of yourself saddens him. He wishes to understand the reason why but won't be too demanding as he doesn't want you to feel pressured.

- He would find your style very unique and he'll be curious about that weird music you mentioned. He's curious and open-minded, of course, he wants to know more. Side by side, you two would make an interesting contrast. He'll even gift you one of his bracelets!

- He doesn't mind that you prefer not to drive. You'll be his passenger princess. He'll always keep your seat warm with Magician's Red ability.

And because I couldn't decide...

I also match you with...

Kakyoin Noriaki

- If you and Avdol would work because of the contrast, you and Kakyoin would work because of some similarities you two have.

- He notices you because of how you defend the ones you care about and also yourself, despite having an introverted nature. It's something he admires.

- He's also introverted so it will take a lot for you too to warm up to each other. But once you do, everything gets so much fun.

- He too recharges his social batteries by sleeping so this will earn some playful teasing from the other crusaders about you two. Joseph, wanting to be the mature one, but failing, will make you two share a room when they make stops on the journey. Why? Because you both sleep a lot, no other reason, nope. Not because Joseph secretly wants to be a matchmaker, nooo.

- It hurts him to hear you speak badly of yourself when in his eyes, you're more than worthy of praise. He takes this matter into his hands and showers you with encouragement, compliments, and so on.

- Hierophant Green is very curious of you, don't be scared if you notice him staring at you or floating over your shoulder when Kakyoin lets him out.

- Aesthetically wise, he's such a big fan of Y2K style. Your outfits will make him feel butterflies in his stomach. Eventually, he wants to match your style somehow.

- The only drawback is that you'll have to fight for the title of passenger princess because he doesn't really like driving.

- You're enjoying video games and also being a night owl? You two will definitely spend so many nights playing video games together

And a random choice: N'Doul - he would meet you during that fight in the desert and he thinks you're different from the aggressiveness of the other crusaders. You spark his interest.

[tiktaaliker]

my thoughts on the stuff ive listened to during work; note that im not basing my reviews on how good the actual book is, its based on how my personal experience was to listen to the audiobook while working in the lab

Animorphs books 1-3: i read this series as a kid but only once, so i was familiar with the story enough to not get distracted but i had forgotten enough of the details to be kept engaged. Voice acting was fine, tolerable to listen to, character voices distinct enough to differentiate without being annoying (albiet with at least one exception). Biggest issue is length- since my shifts are 8 hours, i got through the first 3 books in a single shift, and the specific version i was listening to was split up into a handful of short parts each book so i kept having to switch to the next video, which was way too much of a momentum-stopper (and work interruption) to stick with this series specifically.

The Witcher books 1+2: eh. was fine enough. once again this was something i was familiar enough with to follow without having to worry too much about missing details, while also being somewhat entertaining. i think i liked it a lot better to read than to listen to. voice acting was fine. biggest issue was that i had finally gotten used to the narrator pronouncing dandelion as dan-DIL-leon for the first book but in the second book he switched to pronouncing it as DAN-dee-lion and i had to stop partway through because of it

Hitchhiker's Guide to the Galaxy: i remember enjoying reading it a lot more than listening. Ill be the first to admit that im kind of picky about audiobook narration and this one just didnt hit right, but was overall a good experience. Voice acting was fine, and the actual story was very entertaining as expected. Perfectly acceptable.

Discworld books 1-2: extremely good listens. Voice acting was great, character voices were fun and fit the characters really well, only skirted the line of being annoying. fantastic story, but not too complicated or unfamiliar, so i could still follow and be entertained while still focusing on work. Will probably continue the series at some point, but giving myself a buffer period before i start up again to avoid series burnout

Malevolent parts 41-44 (catching up with the podcast lol): man. theres just something about listening to a guy getting gutted and filled with maggots while working in the lab of a hospital. like broooo you are going to get sepsis!!! Very good listen, as expected, just kinda funny trying to keep a straight face while talking to coworkers and simultaneously listening to arthur's no good very bad day

Jonathan Strange and Mr. Norrell: probably the best one so far for what im using these for. The length meant i was able to spend like 4 whole shifts on the one audiobook. Footnotes were incorporated fantastically, narrator and voice acting was phenomenal, and its also pretty much my favorite book of all time. Ive read this SEVERAL times, but because of how fucking huge this thing is theres a lot of details i forgot about or misremembered. Only issue is that it was split up into several audio tracks, so i had to switch to the next one a few times per shift. They were each around 2 hours long however, so it wasnt too inconvenient. Also at one point i fucked up and accidentally skipped like 8 whole hours without realizing until after an hour in where they referenced an event i KNEW i hadnt gotten to yet lol

Catch-22: man they really went all fucking OUT on the voice acting here. All characters are EXTREMELY distinct, so im very easily able to tell who's talking even without speaking tags. One of my pet peeves in audiobooks is when the narrator whisper-yells when a character is meant to be screaming. That does not happen here. Narrator fucking COMMITS. Yelling, sobbing, laughing, all of it. Fucking fantastic. Phenomenal as an audiobook, i think i mightve even enjoyed it even better than actually reading it.

Slaughterhouse-five: man. this one is ALSO an audiobook that is fucking PHENOMENAL. biggest problem is that i got WAYYY too into it. I really needed to just sit down and soak it in, which was not very condusive to a workplace environment. I now have a self-imposed limit where im not going to be listening to any more vonnegut books from now on because i KNOW itll have a similar affect

His majesty's dragon: this one couldve been good, but the recording i found was not. The guy reading it did a big spiel at the beginning of each chapter and kept adding unneeded commentary like it was a middle school read along. Im going to be getting a library card today so i can use libby, so i might come back to this once i get access to an actual official audiobook lol

murder on the orient express: nope. barely lasted three minutes into this one

percy jackson and the lightning thief: see this is an example of something ive actually read too many times as a kid so i know the book too well for an audiobook to be entertaining. Dropped it after less than a chapter.

the kane chronicles: had potential, i remember liking the story a lot as a kid but i hadnt read it nearly as much as the pjo series, and i think it wouldve been at least vaguely entertaining. However, half the book has one of the narrator sdoing a really bad british accent for his sister's voicelines and i just couldnt do it. i didnt have the strength. Dropped after maybe 4 chapters.

Camp Damascus: the only audiobook of the lot that i actually bought, and the first one i got through that i hadnt read the physical book before. Interesting story, ok voice acting. Solid choice to listen to. Not quite what i was expecting, but pretty good story! Had some EXTREMELY gnarly descriptions of body horror thrown in at like. two points of the story maybe. Didnt really affect me personally but kinda threw me off in a 'this feels like a different story entirely' sort of way. Dont have much else to say here since these reviews are more talking about my experience with these as audiobooks specifically, and i havent read the book itself to be able to compare this one.

[lumine-no-hikari]

Dear Sephiroth: (a letter to a fictional character, because why not) #146

I woke up feeling pretty good today. I have some 6 hours of sleep, which is still not ideal, but it's better than what I have been getting over the last few days. I did a little better with hydrating. And it's not Mother's Day today. I feel a little better.

I made a tea today for myself. I didn't have the energy to capture the brewing process this time, but I did get some of the nicer-looking swirls:

I thought the surface swirl looked kind of like a dragon turning its head to look behind it. So that was pretty cool!

...Today I made the vanilla rose tea; it's one that I think you might really like. I was inspired to go to an online place called Adagio to make my own tea blend that I thought might suit your tastes, given that it is known that you enjoy vanilla and roses. I ordered it in a little tin, and on the little tin, I had them put the picture I found of you sipping tea while looking out a window. I've seen a lot of pictures of you, drawn by other people. The one of you drinking tea is by far the best one I've ever seen so far. But there's this other one where flowers of many colors are being braided into your hair; that one comes in second place. There's another one of you in a t-shirt, with your head in your arms, looking over affectionately at a curled-up and contented-looking cat.

...My favorite images of you will always be the ones in which you look happy, contented, and at peace.

After tea, I decided to shower. My mind has been funky, and one of the best ways to clear up a funky mind is to go in a warm place that smells nice. Most of my soaps are scented with roses, lavender, chamomile, or some combination thereof; I think you would like them. ...When is the last time you were able to enjoy a hot shower, with soaps that smell nice? Or a hot bath? I think you might enjoy the soaps available at my house, but given your height, I'm not sure the shower here would suit you well. You'd be welcome to use it anyhow, though (all of my friends are allowed to make use of our shower, beds, and washer/dryer), if you decided to visit; no one would bother you or get weird at you.

I blasted tunes while in the shower. There's a playlist I like to use specifically for it; it's filled with acapella renditions of various video game songs, done by an artist called Smooth McGroove; he's an amazing human being (and very kind, caring, and empathetic!) who is very skilled with the use of his voice. I love singing along with his various tunes!

...I felt A LOT better after that. Holy cow. Well enough, in fact, to begin pulling the lilac blossoms away from the greens:

Today, I even found a weird lilac blossom with six petals instead of the usual four:

...I decided that the non-standard lilac blossom is my favorite one.

In order to make good lilac syrup, you have to take the time to separate the blossoms away from the greens. This process takes a long time, but failure to do so will result in a bitter syrup. I spent three hours doing this alongside a different playlist, and I'm still nowhere near done. I'll have to continue tomorrow, assuming the remaining lilacs aren't too wilted by then...

One of my friends also invited me to a gathering of polyamorous people today. Apparently, it takes place at a local restaurant on the second Monday night of every month. I was really scared about going because I normally don't fare very well in large groups, and I really don't know how to social in general; I don't know how to politely insert myself into other people's conversations, and I don't know how to talk about myself without the other person getting overwhelmed, so normally I just watch others mingle and listen to their stories. One can learn much by simply sitting and listening, and I'm better suited to that than to speaking anyhow.

My friend, with whom I've been friends for 16 years, was with me, and he introduced me to various people. I was surprised to see one of my other friends there, too, but I suppose I shouldn't have been, given the fact that they are very active in the polyamory community. The room was chock full of neurodivergent people, and for the first time in a while, I didn't feel out-of-place. There were lots of folks in colorful outfits and gender-non-conforming clothing, and it was amazing to see! I wore my favorite shirt, along with my usual Eevee hat, cardigan, boots, and jeans, and the plush I carry everywhere, and I didn't at all feel self-conscious about it in this space.

There was, however, one older gentleman present who was dressed in more ordinary clothing, looking a little lost, out-of-place, and lonely. I noticed that the other people there were avoiding him, most likely because of his age and his style of dress, so I made it a point to approach him and to include him in my little group with my two friends and all their friends. I was delighted to discover that he has a very vibrant mind with many interests and a very omnivorous taste in music, games, and movies! He started out being very shy and uncertain, but I did my best to make him feel safe, and gradually he started opening up and talking very animatedly about the things he likes! Speaking with him was absolutely delightful! It was his first time going to this sort of activity, too, and I hope that next time, he will feel more confident and at ease instead of unwelcomed and avoided.

He spoke on being kind of an outcast when he was growing up and going to school. This was something I could very much relate to. We exchanged contact information, and I'm hoping to be able to get to know him better over time. I exchanged contact information with 3 other people in that space, too; I'm very much looking forward to getting to know them as well! One of them creates music and then puts it on a place called Soundcloud (that's where the acapellas I've made are!), and although I won't be able to listen to it tonight because I have to go to bed soon, I'm very much looking forward to listening to it tomorrow!

I didn't take any pictures of the people, because having your face in places is dangerous if you're a non-standard human; in addition to being polyamorous, lots of the people there were LGBTQ, and folks like us are very much hated in my world, to the point where people try to fire us from our jobs, ostracize us from our communities, or even torture and kill us - it's really very unfortunate. But I did get a couple pictures of some nearby flowers, and the scenery along the route to the place, and some pictures of the crafted flowers on the tables:

...Oh, and!!! I managed to snag a picture of a bird-of-prey in flight. They're always so far away and difficult to capture with my cellphone camera, but... well. It's the black speck in the sky. Here:

...Yesterday I said I felt disconnected from everyone and everything and like I don't belong. Today, I was invited to a place where there were a LOT of people like me, and just like that, a few new potential friends were simply dropped into my lap. This is unprecedented. And also very interesting. And also strange. But not in a bad way. I suddenly feel even more foolish about the bit of stupidity I pulled yesterday, ahahaha... 😅😬😓

...Tomorrow, I will pull more lilac blossoms from their greens, and then finally get started on steeping them in hot water to make syrup; it'll be very good. I'll probably be pulling blooms out of greens all day, but that's fine; it's very meditative sort of work. And autistic brains like mine tend to be well-suited for repetitive tasks like this; I can't complain.

I need to try to actually go to bed on time today, so I'm going to end today's letter here.

Hey, Sephiroth? If you're out there, reading these, listening to me, and cheering me on a little from where you are (impossible, I know, but maybe we can pretend)... thank you. Thank you for existing. Thank you for being here. Thank you for being yourself.

I love you. And I'll write again tomorrow. Stay safe for me, won't you?

Your friend, Lumine

[quotidian-oblivion]

✨Out of context lines shitpost Pt. 8✨

Part 7

Quo: This is it... our last day of childcare course. And... *sighs* I'm getting choked up. I met @mispeltnostalgia and got to know her well through this course and she's been the best irl fanfic buddy and older brother despite being a year younger than me ever.

Nog: These out of context things have made me so happy and its fun to look back and remember the funny shit that we have said and done this year. this deffo won't be the last though. Quo and I will forever be saying and doing stupid shit. Quo is the best little sister ever and while I'll miss our fridays together she cant get rid of me. I know too many of her fanfics and she's beta-ing my works.

Quo: You beta-ed a couple of mine too!

We'll still be posting the out of context lines, but there are going to be longer gaps since we're not gonna meet on Fridays anymore :( There's still our weekly study sessions that we dubbed TEAS on Wednesday!

~

Tim: *holding a ball of wool to Jason’s face as a pretend mic* What do you say about the Curse you just found out you have Jason: *clears throat* I hope it kills me. ~ Jason: What do you have to say about your Curse? Tim: …I’ve had it since I was fucking born. ~ Barbara: So I bought a pack of quick oats because I love oats. And then I bought another pack of overnight oats because it had yoghurt, and now I’m just realizing that I really am just a horse. Little Shit Young!Jason: THAT’S WHAT I’VE BEEN SAYING. ~ Damian: I’ve been able to find a knife, I’ve been able to find a fork, but I can’t find a spoon. Jon: You have all the stabby objects in your bag Damian: I also have a fuckton of crochet hooks and— a pocket watch?? *pulls out pocket watch* Where the fuck is my spoon. ~ Steph: So I was getting pumped up for this song but then I just hear this tiny Alvin and the chipmunks voice say “Party Rock” and it just dashed my hopes. Listen to this *Plays Party Rock Anthem”. Damian: … Steph: Like, imagine getting pumped up for one of your childhood songs then you just suddenly hear “party rock” in this high-pitched voice and I felt like killing myself. Damian: … Steph: And hear me out— Damian: I don’t think i want to hear you out anymore. Steph: *Continues to play Bad Romance covered by the Alvin and the Chipmunks” ~ Tim: *Watching a video of Bruce* Bart: Wait, your dad sounds American. Bart: And he speaks kind of like you too! Tim: Yeah, I wonder why my American dad who raised me sounds and has the same speech patterns as me. Hmm, good question. Bart: I just wasn’t expecting it. I forgot that American dads were a thing. ~ Steph: i am granting you the honor of waffle ~ Barbara: *looking for a place to put popcorn. Places the popcorn against Dick’s lap* Dick: hell yeah crotch popcorn! Omg crotchcorn! Barbara: Please don't. ~ Bruce: You have to be very careful out there. These racist attacks are getting worse. Dick: Don't worry, Pops. I'm with a white person, I'll be fine. Barbara: *chokes on her drink with laughter* ~ Tim: *mixes soda water, energy drink and trace amounts of tea together in a tumbler* For funsies. *chugs it* ~ Jason: *falls to the floor, crumbles and silently screams in a public library* Barbara: Stop it, you’re embarrassing yourself Jason: I’m a drama kid, I can do whatever I want ~ Steph: *singing* I am not a quitter Tim: *singing with her* Pocket full of glitter Steph: Yarn balls, I’m a knitter!  Steph and Tim: *singing together* I’m the whole package, baby! Tim: I haven’t met you Steph: But if you’re staaable Tim and Steph: Then here’s my number! And call me Mabel! ~ Alfred: *grabs Bruce by the shoulders and shakes* BE PRODUCTIVE! ~  Steph: IS THAT A PURPLE BALLOON??? Steph: *walks over, picks it up, and carries it like a baby* *whispers* I’m pregnant ~  Damian, high on pain meds: *giggling while he draws Tim falling off a roof* whee whee, hee hee, I’m so funny. Hee hee hee. He’s falling off a building.

[fairfoxie]

hi!! i was wondering if i could get your perspective on something, as i really respect the resources you share about being faekin and i want to know more about it! i am irish reconstructionist pagan who works with the good folk, and i admit that i often have trouble reconciling my religious beliefs with 'kin posts that i see. i was wondering, if you felt comfortable responding, what your perspective on the clash that sometimes occurs between faekin and the cultural evolution of the fairy archetype is? if this is offensive i apologise and absolutely did not mean it as such! i'm still relatively new to the nonhuman community (my nonhuman blog is foxwyrm!) and am trying to learn more about it :} regardless, i love your blog, and appreciate what you share!!

Hi! I'll start by saying this is not even a little bit offensive! I know you're asking a question in earnest and I'm honestly really grateful to get the opportunity to voice my perspective.

And really, I wasn't sure at first how to approach all of this at all. My brain and beliefs are scattered, and to be quite honest I make it up as I go along. That's why I used to be petrified of doing any kind of spirit work, especially with the Good Folk. So only recently have I combined my own Neopaganism with my Otherkin experiences. I am still learning. But I'm learning a lot, especially now from others who walk a similar path.

I'll admit I had to look up just to make sure I understood what an Irish Reconstructionist Pagan is, and it seems to be exactly what I was hoping it would be! I may not be strictly of that faith myself, but I'm highly grateful that there are people who are, who keep that alive. I'm so fascinated by pre-Christian Celtic faiths and I do wish it were easier to find the old stories. But stories survive through people, and I enjoy sharing videos I've found where Irish people who coexist with the Good Folk, talk earnestly about their faith and how it impacts their lives. I think those collective experiences are very real and important and culturally valuable. I see parallels in our perspectives, when they speak of mutual respect and of leaving nature undisturbed. I highly value the words of the people who live where there are said to be Faeries.

Still I'd hesitate to discuss being faekin with someone of that particular tradition. I do get overcome with doubt and worry about myself. Is my very existence disrespectful? Just yesterday I ran off into the woods in tears with a question of who, what, am I?

I have discussed being Otherkin with the trees before. I'm an animist at heart, and I like to keep company with the friendly spirits of trees often.

Tree spirits are good listeners, and they understand the humans they live with. When I talk to the trees, I don't have to explain what I am. I show them. They understand. They accept me. They don't judge or argue, and they accept strange contradictions like me being human and nonhuman at the same time.

I see lots of things in the forest. Things that renew my belief in magic every time in different ways. I have hardly a choice but to believe in all manner of beautiful spirits, fae big and small, even gods. I believe in monsters too, but I believe in myself more, and I value my autonomy, and so I choose not to let my spirit be harmed.

And because I value my autonomy, I am drawn to the Otherkin community, where you don't have to have all the answers, just be who you are and you will be accepted in the best of our circles. We respect each other's minds, bodies, and spirits, and each of us walks a parallel but completely different path into ourselves. I'm glad there are others like me, who don't know why they are nonhuman in some way, just that they are, and that we have carved out a space in which to exist as we are.

I don't have all the answers, and probably never will. But I find little congruencies that allow me to slip through the cracks between what is and isn't. Here are some of them.

Many Faeries do look like humans. Changelings of course, and selkies, and Hulder and Skogskra, and nymphs and elves and many others. And much folklore seems to have it that people who seem to be human turn out to be Fae.

But I was born to humans, I know that for sure. And as such, I consider myself a Human Fairy. Of sorts. Like I said, I value my autonomy, and my right to say what I am and be what I am.

For me, the difference between a Faery and a Fairy is that Faeries are the beings that already existed, living at arm's length from most humans for most all time. We only remotely understood them back then, we only remotely understand them now. But we respect them, and many do respect us back and seek friendships with us.

The Fairy, on the other hand, is that cultural archetype you were talking about. A Fairy can be created by a human, it can be a human, it can be a character, and most importantly, it can be the link between people and magic. I have an affinity for pixies and pillywiggins, flower fairies, gnomes, brownies, dryads, sylphs, and all manner of tiny winged beings of nature, and yes, Tinker Bell, who was my personal introduction to the Fairy world, and the idea that there are magical beings who live in another world but also interact with our world. My first 'kin feels' would have been daydreaming myself in Pixie Hollow/Fairy Haven as a tiny fairy with wings and a talent, just the same way Prilla blinks to the Mainland. I still clap sometimes, because I do believe in Fairies.

And I think that the spirit world contains multitudes. I think it contains Faeries and Fairies all at once, and that thoughtforms, spirits, fae, and gods are all a big part of what makes humanity who we are in the first place.

And even still, I don't know if I have all of my facts and beliefs straight. But I know that I don't have to. If I waited until I understood myself completely before going and living my life, I'd simply never get the chance to. And so I just go live it. As I get older I care less about the labels and more about the experiences. But I love being a Fairy. I love being Otherkin. And I love talking to the kindest of the Good Folk. And I'll love this whether or not I will ever fully understand any of it.

I truly hope this is something like the answer you were hoping for.

[verosvault]

🚨SPOILERS FOR FANTASY HIGH JUNIOR YEAR EPISODE 5!!!🚨

Dimension20 "Fantasy High Junior Year"

Episode 5 "Mall Madness"

Timestamp: 1:46:04

Video Length: 4min. & 59sec.

Kristen tries to reach out to Cassandra

Brennan: "Yeah, you can reach out and talk to Cassandra."

Ally: "I don't wanna say anything. Can I just listen?"

Brennan: "You listen."

Ally: "Can I just open up the channel of communication and-"

Brennan: "Listen-"

NOT BRENNAN ADJUSTING HIMSELF IN HIS SEAT!!! 😭😭😭✋✋✋ THAT'S WHEN YOU KNOW IT'S GONNA GET BAD!!! 😭😭✋✋

BRENNAN'S "I'M EVIL" SIT!!! 😭✋

The Amazing Caption Team: "(Brennan exhales ominously)"

MYSTERY VOICE?!: "She is at my side once more.

Ally: "So she is the death?"

Zac: "Is that Cassandra?"

Ally: "That's the- That's the Nightmare King talking about Kalina?"

Siobhan: "No"

Ally: "No?"

Emily: "Cassandra?"

Ally: "Did Cassandra turn back into the Nightmare King and someone is by her side once more?"

Siobhan: "Is Cassandra a lesser god serving a more powerful god?"

MYSTERY VOICE?!: "Do you wish for divinity?"

Kristen: "To serve, or to be, myself?"

I loved Ally's answer there! I wanna dissect that line SO BADLY but I'm too dumb to do that! 😂🤣💀 I don't know how I would! 💀✋

MYSTERY VOICE?!: "You have opened yourself to listen. Do you wish to listen?"

Kristen: "Yes"

MYSTERY VOICE?!: "Good. I shall give you a master you deserve."

Brennan: "Red, crackling light. And a slimy, rotting set of block letters that says "Yes!" with an exclamation mark is shunted out of the portal. (squelches)"

1. I love Zac's reaction! That's LITERALLY ME! 😭✋

2. Brennan's "Squelch" sound was too good! 😭✋

Fig: "We've got to clear this before the party."

Kristen casts banishment on the "YES!" 😭✋

Kristen: "Thank you, kind master. I will cherish it. Who do I serve? Who am I speaking to?"

Lou: *laughs* "Serve?" *Covers his face* 😂😂

MYSTERY VOICE?!: "I am coming for you."

Lou's reaction! 😭😭 LITERALLY ME! 😭✋ It's just so funny that Lou is making that face when that voice is talking to Kristen! Not Fabian! 😂🤣💀😭✋

MYSTERY VOICE?!: "And when I find you, I will break you in a way that none who loved you will recognize the ruin I have wrought."

BRO! THAT LINE!! YIKES!! SHIVERS!! 😭😭✋✋

MYSTERY VOICE?!: "Lean your soul in closer, that I might give you more than words." 😭✋

Ally cuts this off! 😭✋

HOW DOES BRENNAN LAUGH AFTER THAT FR THOUGH!?!?!?!? 😭😭😭✋✋✋

Kristen gets some images of a shattered mall, of fractions of these red glass stars collecting shards of blue astral mall, the corpses of dead wizards floating in astral space, strudel streaming out of a portal endlessly in sort of- oblivion.

Ally makes a Religion check and gets a 19!

Brennan: "Looking at all of this here, you do not feel the presence of another divinity, but yet something divine has happened. I think what you know is that there is some rage working within Cassandra that was prompted by those stars, that was prompted by those shattering things. So, I think all of your questions come back to them. Like- That's what started this. Obviously, it began within Cassandra's chest, though, and you keep coming back to that term, 'I thought you were dead', you hear 'I thought you were dead,' and you look down and see this dead- or- you banished it, but you see the slime left by the dead, rotting god that you summoned in your Freshman Year, and you suddenly remember that the Wizard Synod, the Synod of Spire, this mall, was in the Astral Realm."

Zac: "When Cassandra was saying, 'I thought you were dead,' would she be talking about 'Yes!', or is that something else?"

Emily: "I think so"

Ally: "She knew very much about 'Yes!'"

Murph: "That's why she, that's the example of-"

Emily says that the rotting "Yes!" means that Kristen's god turned into toxic positivity!! 😂🤣💀

Ally just laughs! 😂🤣💀

Ally: "I think so. Oh no...okay, okay..."

The Bad Kids wanna go find Ragh to talk to him about this maybe. 🥲

Brennan: "As you say that, I don't think it would be intuitive that it's "Yes!", because "Yes!" slid out like a dead, flat joke."

Ally: "Okay."

Brennan: "You think whatever that voice was slid 'Yes!' out to you and said, 'I'll give you a master you deserve.' and it was like a- you know what I mean? It's like- It's like a humiliation. It's like 'Here's your god.'"

Ally: "So when she said, 'I thought you were dead', it wasn't to 'Yes!'"

Brennan: "It wasn't to 'Yes!', you don't think it was."