#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

[aishangotome]

Azel Radwan: Dramatic Ending Ch. 24

Dramatic Ending Ch. 23 Letter

Thank you @passthechloroform for providing the video for this chapter!

♡———♡

With the end approaching, if I remained in Tanzanite, I would only hold Azel back.

I had braced myself for the bitterness, swallowed the pain, and initiated the farewell, yet Azel continued to grasp my hand without any intention of letting go.

Emma: …Is there something else you want to say?

Azel: ………… No.

Azel: .....

Azel: Yes, there is something I want to say.

His voice was firm, devoid of hesitation, as if he had resolved his worries and conflicts.

Azel: You are a kind-hearted person. Aren’t you worried about the 10,000 believers the apostle mentioned earlier?

(I can’t believe he brought that up.)

Emma: I am worried, but seeing how Prince Azel is acting, I thought maybe you had already taken measures.

Azel: Why?

Emma: Because you dislike the apostle, right?

Emma: You’re not generous enough to let someone you dislike have their way.

Emma: Either the matter has already been settled, or you’re going to settle it now…

Emma: Either way, I believe the helping hand of God will reach out.

(Before, Azel gave the maids who gave me the aphrodisiac nightmares.)

(While you have a compassionate side, you’re merciless to those you recognize as enemies.)

Azel: …It’s rather irritating when you're spot on.

Emma: I’d like you to praise my understanding of you, Prince Azel.

Azel: Would you please not get carried away?

Frowning, Azel tightened his grip on my hand.

Each time his strong will to "not let go" was conveyed, my heartbeat quickened excitedly.

Azel: There’s something I’d like you to help me with.

Azel: You, with your kind heart, can’t leave people in crisis alone, can you?

Azel: If you’re so desperate to save those 10,000 people, you’re welcome to come with me.

Emma: …I thought Prince Azel wanted to get us out of the country.

(Even though you were blocking our attempts to meet.)

Azel: I changed my mind, that’s all.

Azel turned away.

Azel: You seem to think you have value as a hostage, but you don’t.

Azel: But if we part ways like this, it’ll look like I’m worried about you being taken hostage, won’t it?

Azel: If I’m going to be misunderstood like that, I’d rather have your help, even if it’s annoying.

Azel: In the first place, I only kicked you out of the temple. It was Enis who urged you to return home.

Azel: Don’t get that wrong.

Emma: …So, in other words…

Emma: …You’re saying, “Don’t misunderstand, you idiot”?

Azel: Yes, that’s right. You’re an idiot––

Akatsuki: Oh?

Azel: …No, that’s not right.

(I actually understand.)

(…You probably just want to spend a little more time together.)

When Azel speaks rapidly, it’s when he wants to hide his true feelings, and when that happens, his eyes always fail to meet mine.

(If only the apostle’s problem is solved, I can still stay in Tanzanite.)

(I might be able to see Azel's wish through to the end.)

Squeezing his hand back, sadness outweighed joy, and pain surpassed happiness at his offer.

Emma: I want to stay with you too.

Azel: It’s not “too.”

Emma: Oh, come on. I haven’t spent time with Prince Azel for nothing.

Emma: I’ve become better at reading your thoughts compared to before.

Azel: .....

(But that’s why my heart aches so much…)

If we were going to spend time together anyway, I wanted to keep smiling until the end.

Emma: So the time has finally come to show off the swordsmanship the princes of Rhodolite taught me. I’ll do my best.

Azel: It hasn’t. That kind of muscle-brained solution isn’t my forte.

Emma: …Owner, is that alright?

The Owner, who had been silently watching us, quietly exhaled and nodded.

Akatsuki: It’s been a while since I’ve cut someone down.

Azel: No, I mean, were you even listening to me?

(Surely, the longer we spend together, the harder it will be to say goodbye in the end.)

(I know, but… I want to spend time without regrets.)

(Especially since Azel himself wished for it.)

Azel: Listen, you two. Resolving things with violence is what third-rate people do.

Emma: Then how are you going to save them?

Azel: That’s obvious.

His mystical eyes narrowed slightly, and a compassionate smile blended with the moonlight.

Azel: Allow me to show you what a nightmare shown by God looks like.

-

The place Azel headed to, avoiding the public eye, was the castle.

Emma: …This is strange.

Azel: It’s quiet, isn’t it?

(When the Owner and I left the castle, it should have been in chaos.)

There was no one around, and the eerily silent corridor was different from the scenery I knew.

Emma: Did Prince Azel clear everyone out?

Azel: No way. They deliberately moved aside so I could walk easily.

I knew who “they” were without having to ask.

(Azel said he had already taken measures, but this looks like he’s walking into a trap.)

(The apostle must have anticipated that you wouldn’t abandon the people… Perhaps it’s a battle of who can outsmart the other.)

God leisurely proceeded to the back of the castle and stood before a lavish room.

Without him doing anything, the door opened from the inside––

Woman: Oh, the Living God… It’s the Living God!

Man: You really came, Living God!

(This is…)

The sacred throne room was overflowing with people, so much so that it was suffocating.

Cheers erupted at Azel's appearance, the air and my eardrums vibrating violently.

(These must be the believers the apostle was talking about.)

The eerie silence was swallowed by the enthusiastic clamor, and Azel was instantly surrounded by people.

(…I-I can’t even move forward properly.)

Azel: Miss Emma, don’t forget that the moment you leave my side, you’ll become prey to the crowd.

Emma: Then I’ll take your arm without hesitation!

As I clung to his arm so as not to be separated, the door closed behind us.

(Huh? What’s this smell?)

(…A sweet smell like incense…)

*flashback*

Clavis: Do you know what this is?

Silvio: Incense, right?

Clavis: Yes. This incense itself isn’t harmful, but it has a drug applied to its surface.

Clavis: When burned in an incense burner, it causes a mild state of intoxication.

*flashback over*

Emma: …Prince Azel!

Azel: Yes, it’s best not to inhale too much.

Azel: It’s not harmful, but if you’re not careful, your thinking will become paralyzed like these people.

(Even though I expected it, to think that he urged people to die for God while they were unable to think properly…)

(The apostle’s actions are unforgivable.)

Azel continued forward, unfazed by the crowd.

When he reached a certain point, the people parted neatly to the left and right.

(...!)

A path was formed, and the sight that appeared beyond it unconditionally filled me with rage.

Azel: …This is a bit much, isn’t it, old man?

Seated on the throne, illuminated by the beautiful and divine moon, was His Majesty the King.

His limbs were bound with shackles, and his limp body was tied to the throne.

Blood flowed from his head, dripping onto the throne, and I could feel Azel trembling slightly through his arm.

Emma: …What have you done to His Majesty?

The person standing beside the throne smiled without a hint of remorse.

Apostle: Please rest assured. Enis is alive.

Apostle: I didn’t want to resort to such violence, but His Majesty was a little out of his mind.

Apostle: When the soldiers were restraining him, they had no choice but to hit him on the head.

(His Majesty said he would cause a commotion to buy me time to escape.)

(If the apostle's trap had already been set since then…)

I glared at the apostle as if to vent my frustration.

Azel: I’ve heard enough of your pathetic excuses. Old man, I went out of my way to fall into your trap. State your business.

Apostle: Living God, you have always been merciful.

Apostle: I still remember how you cried and begged for Enis and that exile, desperately trying to stop me.

(…Is he talking about that time when your brother was tortured in front of you?)

I sincerely loathed the way he deliberately brought up topics that reopened old wounds.

But Azel wasn’t as openly emotional as I was; he was calm.

–Calmly, his mystical eyes filled with a cruel color that sent chills down my spine.

Azel: Is that a childish threat that Enis will be punished if I defy you?

Apostle: No, who would allow such disrespect as to threaten the Living God?

(…How hypocritical.)

Behind the apostle were armed soldiers.

Depending on Azel's response, it wouldn’t be surprising if those weapons were turned on Enis.

Apostle: However, everyone here shares my aspirations.

Apostle: They have gathered to protect the Living God from any harm.

Apostle: And Enis feels the same way, I’m sure.

Apostle: Please allow us to protect you, so that you won’t bring about the end and face eternal death.

Azel: How will you protect me?

Apostle: We will wipe out the scoundrels who oppose God and keep you in a safe place until permanent peace returns to the city.

Apostle: To that place where death cannot reach.

Azel: ......

Apostle: However…

His clinging, gentle gaze fell upon me.

Apostle: I didn’t expect Emma to be here as well.

Apostle: If you’d like, could you accompany the Living God?

Apostle: The place I’m about to show you is safe, but it’s also dark and cold.

(Is he planning to imprison God?)

We were surrounded by people, with no escape.

And with Enis held hostage, we had no choice.

The imprisonment he proposed was insane.

Emma: …Is this what the apostle, who serves God, does?

My voice naturally lowered.

(To protect God? Don’t make me laugh.)

Emma: Apostle, you refuse to acknowledge Prince Azel true intentions.

Emma: The God of Tanzanite isn’t an idol; he’s alive and here.

Emma: And yet, isn’t this absurd?

Emma: God has granted people the blessing of a promised reality, and yet you repay him with hostility?

(It’s infuriating… In the first place, Azel should be your flesh and blood, even before he’s God.)

Apostle: It may be difficult for you to understand. But this is also for the sake of the Living God.

Emma: If you truly believe that, then first listen to the Living God’s voice!

Emma: You just take the blessings he gives you… God is not your convenient tool!

Azel: .....

Azel: It’s useless. No matter what you say to this old man, it’s useless.

Azel: You’ll only exhaust yourself one-sidedly. He doesn’t live in the same world as us.

Azel: Do you know why Tanzanite is called the Land of Illusions?

Azel: It’s also satire for those who blindly believe in God and are trapped in their own dreams.

(…It seems like Azel has given up from the start.)

(How much suffering did you have to endure to reach this state of mind?)

If this kind of unreasonable violence has continued since childhood, the current reality might be a nightmare for Azel.

(To think that death is the only way to be liberated…)

When I hugged his arm tightly, Azel chuckled softly.

Azel: You don’t have to get so angry.

Emma: …But I can’t forgive him.

Azel: Even though it’s none of your business?

Emma: Even though it’s none of my business… yes.

Azel: Then, please rage on my behalf.

Azel: I’ve grown tired of even getting angry at that old man.

Emma: …Why do you sound a little happy?

Azel: Are you blind? Someone who can find this situation happy and enjoyable is as abnormal as the apostle.

Azel turned away again.

(…I wonder if there was no one else to get angry like this.)

(Even though you’re someone who should be cherished more than anyone else…)

Azel: Old man, time is limited, so hurry up and lead the way.

Azel: I won’t run away.

-

Emma: ..........................This has to be a joke.

(Impossible.)

(It’s impossible not to get angry at this.)

Separated from the Owner, I was led by the apostle and a large group of believers to a stagnant underground space.

It seemed they intended to confine God in this place buried deep within the sand, where even moonlight couldn’t reach, and the fact that these people considered it a “good deed” as a matter of course gave me goosebumps.

Emma: In other countries, this is called a prison.

Azel: Oh, is that so? This is actually another room of mine.

Azel: I was often confined here as a child.

Azel: Not only when I ran away, but also when my divinations didn’t go well or when I made childish mistakes.

Azel: According to the old man, he confines me out of love.

Emma: .............

Azel: You can make such interesting faces.

Emma: …I had my suspicions ever since I heard your story, Prince Azel…

Emma: This is what the world calls abuse!

My voice echoed off the stone walls and spread throughout the surroundings.

Everyone here must have heard it, yet they showed no reaction whatsoever.

(This isn’t a matter of having different fundamental values.)

(It’s like faith has paralyzed their hearts.)

Apostle: Emma, it’s not like I enjoy doing this.

Apostle: …It truly pains me.

Emma: Someone who is truly pained wouldn’t be able to smile like that!

Emma: You say you understand the Living God’s suffering, and yet you’ve been… you’ve been smiling all along!

(My emotions are about to burst.)

I tried my best to calm down, but I couldn’t suppress my raging heart…

Azel hugged me from behind as I clenched my fists tightly.

Azel: That smile of his is a kind of provocation towards me.

Emma: Provocation…?

Azel: I think you’ve already noticed…

Azel: The one who believes in God the least in this country is none other than the apostle himself.

Information that should have been shocking entered my mind smoothly.

Azel: In the first place, the apostle finds me to be a nuisance.

Azel: In the era when the Living God was absent, the apostle could wield his authority as God’s representative.

Azel: If it weren’t for me, he could have become God.

Emma: …That’s a chilling story.

Azel: Yes, I think so too.

Azel: Because the real one was born, the old man had no choice but to become a servant of God…

Azel: He may still be yearning for the divine throne with lingering attachment. How pitiful.

At Azel's provocative words, the apostle’s mask-like smile distorted slightly.

Apostle: I have never once harbored such a rebellious thought.

Apostle: My loyalty to God is as you know, Living God.

Azel: Has that loyalty ever been shown to me?

Azel: No, right? You’ve never once listened to my voice.

Azel: Everything you say as God’s will is far from my true intentions.

Azel: Old man, you’re mistaken in thinking you’re “God.”

Azel: How foolish and disrespectful a misunderstanding that is… I don’t need to tell you, do I?

I noticed at some point that my breathing had become shallow.

As Azel's words grew heavier, the dimly lit prison cell transformed into a sacred place of judgment.

The people gathered here also seemed to be consumed by tension.

(Azel was supposed to be the one caught in the trap, and yet, the one now standing on the platform of judgment is…)

Azel: I am the true God. You are nothing more than an ordinary person.

Azel: And for an ordinary person to defy God is an unforgivable act.

Azel: Now, all of you ordinary people… aren’t you being a little too arrogant towards me?

The moment the cold smile of God dominated the room, the people simultaneously fell to their knees and lowered their heads so deeply that their foreheads rubbed against the ground.

Only one person – the apostle – remained standing.

The “misunderstanding” Azel spoke of was exposed in broad daylight.

Azel: Oh my, why do you defy God’s words?

Azel: You, who should be serving me and believing in me more than anyone else…

Azel, who had moved away from me, approached the apostle and placed a hand on his shoulder.

Though his strength was by no means forceful, the apostle involuntarily fell to his knees.

(…Azel could have dominated people like this all along, he just chose not to.)

*flashback*

Azel: I haven’t done anything like burning a strange incense burner and brainwashing you without your knowledge.

Azel: In the first place, people can be controlled much more easily without resorting to such underhanded tactics.

*flashback over*

(The apostle is no match for him.)

Azel: Apostle, let me ask you.

Azel: Who do the 10,000 believers you gathered worship?

Apostle: …Why, the Living God, of course.

Azel: Then, they won’t ignore my divine will. Correct?

Apostle: Yes…

Azel: You said earlier that everyone shares the same aspirations…

Azel: The wise believers must already understand my wishes.

Azel: ––That’s enough. Thank you all for your hard work.

God clapped his hands.

As if it were a cue, the people rose as if awakening from a dream.

(…Wh-What’s going on?)

I couldn’t believe that their fanaticism towards God was an illusion; they exited as if they had planned it beforehand.

The apostle’s smile vanished.

Apostle: …Why…?

Azel: Why? Because I am the God they worship.

Azel: Didn’t you think it was strange?

Azel: Why I would condone such a harmful gathering that brainwashes people.

(…Gathering…)

*flashback*

Azel: ––…Is it that gathering again?

Kumushu: Yes, invitations have already been widely distributed. Moreover, it’s close to the date. This is troubling.

Azel: Unfortunately, I’ll have to remain a bystander this time.

Azel: However, please contact Shinan. There will likely be a considerable number of victims.

*flashback over*

(If the story I heard back then was referring to the apostle’s gathering…)

(Azel knew about it all along and had taken some measures.)

(Shinan is a doctor, so maybe––)

Azel: The answer is simple – to show you a terrible nightmare.

It was the most compassionate and gentle divine smile I had ever seen.

Azel: It was quite a task to catch the participants every time and detoxify their minds.

Azel: To protect Tanzanite’s faith, you sent invitations mainly to “those who were beginning to awaken from faith.”

Azel: The fact that the majority of Tanzanite’s people blindly believe in God is largely due to your efforts.

Azel: Using incense to brainwash and turn people into fanatics is your old trick.

Azel: So, I imitated it.

Apostle: …Imitated?

Azel: Yes. I had a doctor remove the effects of the drug you physically gave them…

Azel: …And I conveyed my true divine will to them.

Azel: On top of that, I had them continue to act as fanatics.

Azel: To punish the misguided commoners.

(In other words…)

Emma: The apostle’s gathering was a dream shown by Prince Azel?

Azel: Of course, not all of them. There are some true believers who were beyond help.

Azel: However, the majority, yes.

Azel: The people the apostle mistakenly believed to be his followers were actually my followers, that’s all.

(…I thought it would be alright since it’s Azel…)

(I never imagined the main character of the nightmare would change so dramatically.)

From Azel to the apostle.

Having lost his smile, the apostle suddenly looked many years older.

Azel: I told you before, Miss Emma.

Azel: I can show people sweet dreams, or I can show them nightmares.

(There’s no one in this country who can harm Azel.)

When he beckoned me closer, I was led to the exit.

Azel: Cool your head here for a while, old man.

Azel: The next time you see the moon…

Azel: …An eternal nightmare will have begun.

-

When we stepped out into the corridor, the people who were supposed to have left were there to greet Azel.

Their expressions were uniformly somber, and I could hear the sound of sobbing.

(…I see. The fact that they know Azel's divine will means…)

(The people here know that the end is a “promised reality.”)

Azel: Thank you all for your cooperation.

Azel: You are my pride, having overcome the illusion of the “eternal kingdom of God” that the apostle offers.

Man: Living God… But…

Azel: Don’t be so sad. Certainly, death may be a kind of end…

Azel: …But it is also the beginning for you to weave history with your own feet.

(...)

Azel: Let us say our final farewells tomorrow.

Azel: You are the seeds I have sown in the wilderness. So that one day, many hopes will sprout in this barren land…

Azel: Please live up to that expectation. This is my divine will for you.

No one could say anything.

People with tears streaming down their faces, people stifling sobs, people with expressions of anguish, people covering their faces with their hands…

It was a sight that showed at a glance how much the Living God had been loved and revered.

(Tomorrow…)

(…It’s time to say goodbye.)

.

.

.

Dramatic End Ch. 24 Premium Story

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[icewindandboringhorror]

I've referenced before how I have a big google document to keep track of every media I've ever seen in my entire life (just for reference because I like to track everything possible lol… I am the Data Collector), but recently as I was updating it, I thought of actually evaluating them to find out random percentages (like for example, out of Total Shows Watched, what percentage did I finish vs. stop watching, what percentage did I like or dislike, etc.)...

Evaluating these things is made easier by the fact that I already place everything on each subsection of the list into 6 broad ranking categories, so I don't have to go back and guess to figure out how I feel about them or anything. The categories are: Ranking 5 - overall best* (despite some criticisms of course because I'm too much of an Analyzer to ever find anything Perfect lol) Ranking 4 - more positive than neutral, but not good enough to be 5 Ranking 3 - either the good + bad negate each other, OR it's just not memorable/interesting in any way enough to be ranked higher or lower (this is the Default category ALL things are placed in if no other rank applies) Ranking 2 - maybe a few redeemable elements but largely more negatives than positives Ranking 1 - So bad that it circles around to being fascinating to observe in some way (not necessarily Funny, or Good, but just interesting somehow) Ranking 0 - Bad in a genuinely frustrating or obnoxious manner

*("best" primarily defined here as most interesting, rather than most good in a technical sense, or some other measure. I tend to value more highly whether there's something novel or thoughtful about the worldbuilding, tone, writing, base premise, etc - than about whether it's actually executed perfectly.)

And here's the amount of shows that have so far been placed into each category -

TV shows ~ Rank 5 (highest) - 20 shows ~ Rank 4 (mid-high) - 28 shows ~ Rank 3 (neutral/default/meh) - 114 shows ~ Rank 2 (mid low) -33 shows ~ Rank 1 (low low but intriguingly so) - 14 shows ~ Rank 0 (iredeemably low) - 2 shows

This would make for a total of 211 TV shows overall. However, there are 57 shows within these list marked as "didn't finish" (typically meaning I quit on the very first or second episode - but log them still to keep a record that I at least had a brief view of them).

So my total of genuinely fully watched shows would be more 154. 211 Total, but a More Accurate Total of 154.

Counting them all and using the Total Number Of The List (211) -- that means roughly 9.5% of all total shows I have ever watched (or at least attempted to watch) have been Mostly Good, 13% have been Moderately Okay, 54% have been either entirely Forgettable or some mix of good + bad that lands them right in the Neutral Middle, 15.6% have been Mostly Bad, 6.6% have been Bad (but in an interesting way), and 0.9% have been Terribly Bad.

Additionally, I didn't even get past the first two episodes of about 27% of the total.

Sooo, discounting ones I didn't finish, my total TV shows ever watched in my life would be about 154 (maybe give or take a few, assuming I might have forgotten some from very long ago).

But instead of entire life, let's just say this is the total for 'About 20 Years' (so, not counting very early childhood when I likely wouldn't remember things I saw/have no detailed recollection of them (like for example, I'm sure at some point when I was like 4yrs old I must have seen an episode of Spongebob or something, but I have zero distinct memories of it, can't quote anything of it, and barely recall the premise - so I don't count it on the list, etc.)).

In that case, 154 divided by 20 would be roughly 7.7 shows a year.

Which is actually surprisingly low considering that I often have stuff on in the background for hours whilst I make sculptures and do costumes and stuff (maybe I should have also marked some distinction between 'things I fully paid attention to' and 'things I kind of half listened to whilst sculpting', but that would further split the categories too much probably lol), but I guess a lot of that is youtube videos or random documentaries, so .. eh.. maybe I get it being lower.

Now, doing the same thing for movies-

Movies ~ Rank 5 (highest) - 4 movies (3.4% of total) ~ Rank 4 (mid-high) - 12 movies (10.3% of total) ~ Rank 3 (neutral/default/meh) - 91 movies (78.4% of total) ~ Rank 2 (mid low) - 8 movies (6.8% of total) ~ Rank 1 (low but interesting) - 1 movie (0.8% of total) ~ Rank 0 (irredeemably low) - none in this category (0%)

That makes 116 for a Total (Actually Remembered) Movies Watched In Lifetime (Or At Least In 20 Years).

116 divided by 20 is roughly 5 or 6 movies a year (I feel this has probably been skewed though by adding everything since like elementary school onwards, as I remember a lot more movies from child/teen years.. Whereas, the past 3 years I feel like I've barely seen maybe even 5 movies?? lol). I also have "Didn't Finish" marked on 18 of them. Which means I quit halfway through about 15% of the total movies.

So, a for broader summary stuff..

I seem to be less forgiving to movies than tv shows, by far. Which makes sense to me, I guess, because I love elaboration and details, so "short form" things that only last an hour or two are often lost on me a bit. My biggest complaint with movies is indeed usually walking away just wishing there had been more exposition, more scenes where characters are doing nothing, more "mindless bantering" conversations, more Quiet Downtime and Lore Elaboration and so on lol, so... of course most 1-2hr films end up feeling a bit Not Enough To Draw My Interest/Nothingy to me.

If you count 5 and 4 as "like" and rankings 2 to 0 as "dislike", then for TV shows I at least somewhat liked 48 of them, and at least somewhat disliked 47 of them.. So it's almost exactly the same lol. I'm just about equally as likely to find something bad as I am to find something redeeming about it. But overall, the largest chance is that I just won't really care much for it at all and it will be tossed into the 'neutral' pile, forgotten forever. Movies have a bit better of a balance, "liking" 16 of them, and "disliking" only 9 of them. So I'm slightly more likely to enjoy a movie than to find it annoying - though still VASTLY more likely to just not find it anything in particular, possibly not even finishing it.

ANYWAY.. this is vague and literally pointless, but like I said, I just really find information fun. Like my document where I've rated every apple flavor I've ever tried (like 40 of them now?), or reviewed every oreo flavor (32?), or ranking data from my entire 10 years of Trying To Make Friends process (out of 100 people, roughly 8% chance of a moderate compatibility, 3% chance of high), or etc. etc.. I love to have random pointless things to analyze I suppose lol.

I doubt anyone tracks things in their life in this same exact way, but I'd be interested in hearing any at least somewhat similar data !!! (like, how many TV shows you watch a year on average, and what percentage of those you like vs. dislike (if you keep track of that sort of thing), etc.)). I guess it might be easier with movies, since I think some people use those websites where you curate a list of movies you've seen and you can rate them or something, so maybe the numbers are already available on those places. :0

[killkaramazov]

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

[insomniac4000]

Useless Hotline Crush- George Clarke

George Clarkeey adjusted his headset, a mixture of nerves and excitement bubbling under his usual confident exterior. Across from him, Max Balegde lounged in his chair, grinning mischievously as he scrolled through the show notes for this week’s episode of The Useless Hotline.

Their guest? None other than Y/N, a rising star in the YouTube and TikTok world, whose hilarious skits and uncanny impressions had skyrocketed her to internet fame. George had mentioned her more than a few times on the podcast, enough for the listeners to pick up on his admiration and maybe a little more. The speculations of a crush had been building for weeks, and now, she was about to be sitting across from him. George was feeling the full weight of their playful teasing, he knew that Max was not going to let him off easy either and it started just how George had expected.

“Alright, George,” Max said, snapping him out of his thoughts. “Are you ready to meet your favorite internet sensation?”

“Oh, shut up,” George muttered, but his cheeks turned pink.

Max laughed and leaned into the mic. “Ladies and gentlemen, give a warm welcome to the incredibly talented, ridiculously funny, and dare I say, George-approved Y/N!”

The studio door opened, and Y/N walked in with a big smile, waving at the cameras and settling into the guest seat. “Thanks for having me! Big fan of the show.”

“Big fan of you,” George blurted out before his brain could catch up. Max stifled a laugh as George’s face turned beet red. “I mean, uh, your videos. Big fan of your videos. Let’s get you a drink, I know I could do with one.

Y/N’s laugh was warm and genuine, easing some of George’s nerves. “Well, I’m flattered. And honestly, George, you’re pretty funny yourself. Your impression of that influencer with the fake apology? Iconic.”

“Oh, thank you,” George said, his voice slightly higher than usual. “Coming from the queen of impressions, that means a lot.”

Max raised an eyebrow at the exchange, his grin widening. “Alright, enough flirting. Let’s get into it. Y/N, how did you get started making content?”

Y/N leaned forward slightly, her enthusiasm shining through. “Honestly, it started as a bit of a joke. I was in uni, absolutely broke, and my friends and I would mess around making little videos. One day, I did an impression of our lecturer that was so spot-on, they dared me to post it. I did, and somehow it blew up. From there it just kind of snowballed really.”

“Snowballed is an understatement,” Max said. “You’ve got millions of followers now. What do you think sets your content apart?”

“I think it’s a mix of things,” Y/N replied thoughtfully. “I try to keep my humour relatable, you know? Like, we’ve all been in awkward situations or dealt with people who are… let’s say, a bit much. And I love poking fun at those universal experiences. Plus, I’m a bit of a perfectionist when it comes to my skits. I’ll redo them a hundred times if I have to, no one needs to see the hours of footage on the cutting room floor,” she laughed.

“That’s dedication,” George said, his admiration clear. “Do you ever feel pressure to keep topping yourself?”

“Absolutely,” Y/N admitted. “It’s easy to get caught up in the numbers and the pressure to go viral. But I try to remind myself why I started was to make people laugh. As long as I’m doing that, I’m happy.”

“Speaking of laughs,” Max interjected, “we’ve got to talk about your impressions. They’re uncanny. Do you have a favourite one?”

Y/N grinned. “Oh, that’s a tough one. I think my favourite changes depending on my mood. But people seem to love my impression of the overly peppy yoga instructor.”

“Can we get a little sample?” George asked, leaning forward eagerly, he knew exactly what she was talking about but it was for the sake of the audience who hadn’t seen anything, plus there was a part of him that was really excited to see her stuff in person.

“Alright, but don’t judge me,” Y/N said, slipping effortlessly into character. She clasped her hands in front of her chest and adopted an overly serene tone. “Okay, everyone, let’s just breathe out the negative vibes despite your life falling apart and breathe in the overpriced smoothie and retreat I’m about to sell you which you will definitely need after this.”

George and Max burst into laughter, George clapping his hands together. “That’s brilliant. Honestly, you’ve got the tone and everything down perfectly.”

“Thanks,” Y/N said, laughing along with them. “It’s one of my go-to’s because it’s just so fun to exaggerate. Anyway how do you know how perfect it is? I didn’t have you down as a yoga expert.” George’s face then went red.

“Alright, George,” Max said, turning to him with a wicked grin. “Your turn. Do an impression.”

George groaned, though the smile on his face suggested he didn’t mind. “Fine. I’ll do my influencer apology.” He cleared his throat and put on an exaggeratedly solemn expression. “Hi, guys. I’ve made a severe and continuous lapse in my judgment. I’m here to take accountability, even though I don’t really mean it. Please don’t cancel me, because I’ve got a brand deal coming up.”

Y/N was practically doubled over with laughter. “That is terrifyingly accurate. The pause before ‘accountability’ was perfect.”

“I’ve had a lot of practice,” George said with a wink. “What about you, Y/N? Have you ever had to make an apology video?”

“Thankfully, no,” she said, shaking her head. “But now that you’ve done that impression, I’m kind of tempted to make a parody one. Just in case I ever need it, you know?”

“We’ll co-write it,” George offered. “Guaranteed viral hit.”

Max leaned back, watching the exchange with a knowing smirk. “You two are dangerous together. I can see it now: Y/N and George take over TikTok. The internet won’t know what hit it.”

Y/N laughed. “Hey, I’m down. As long as George can keep up with my filming schedule.”

“Oh, I’m ready,” George said, his confidence returning. “Let’s make it happen.”

The rest of the interview flew by, covering everything from Y/N’s dream collaborations to her favourite TikTok trends. By the time they wrapped up, the chemistry between her and George was undeniable, leaving Max plenty of material for teasing in future episodes.

As Y/N said her goodbyes and left the studio, Max turned to George with a sly look. “Mate, you’re not even subtle.”

“Shut up,” George mumbled, but the grin on his face was undeniable.

The comments had noticed too;

Did anyone else notice how George kept stuttering a little at the beginning like he was nervous?

George finally got his dream guest!!

So we’re all in agreement that George is smitten, right? Can we make this a thing? Because I need them to collab again ASAP!

Max teasing George is literally the only reason I’m still alive. But honestly, George’s soft spot for Y/N is kind of sweet.

Two weeks later, the studio buzzed with the usual pre-show chaos. Today’s episode was one the listeners had been eagerly anticipating: a lie detector test. George and Max had hyped it up for days, promising spicy questions and no holds barred.

As the machine was set up and the cameras rolled, Max rubbed his hands together. “Alright, George, are you ready to expose your deepest, darkest secrets?”

“As ready as I’ll ever be,” George said, settling into the chair and strapping on the sensors.

The first few questions were tame. Max asked if George had ever stolen anything (“Yes,” and he passed), if he’d ever lied to a guest (“No,” and he passed), and if he thought Max was the funnier host (“No,” and he failed, prompting uproarious laughter).

Then came the question that made George’s stomach flip.

“Have you ever kissed a guest on this podcast?” Max asked, his eyes gleaming with mischief.

George’s answer was immediate. “No.” The machine’s green light confirmed the truth, and George exhaled in relief.

Max wasn’t done. “Do you want to kiss any guest?”

George froze, his mind racing. He forced a laugh, trying to play it cool. “No.”

The machine’s red light flashed.

Max’s eyes widened, and he leaned back in his chair, howling with laughter. “Oh my God, George! Who is it? Who do you want to kiss?”

George shook his head, his face burning. “I’m not saying anything. Next question.”

“You’re no fun,” Max teased, but the damage was done. The comments section exploded when the episode went live.

"It’s obviously Y/N. The way he acted when she was on the podcast? Dead giveaway."

"George, we’re onto you, mate. Just admit it already!"

"Max, bring Y/N back and grill George in real time. We need answers!"

George tried to ignore the speculation, but it was impossible to miss. And as much as he wanted to deny it, he couldn’t stop thinking about Y/N’s smile, her laugh, the way she’d lit up the studio. Maybe…just maybe, the comments weren’t entirely wrong.

There had been a couple of messages swapped here and there since the podcast appearance but nothing else, the way Max, Chris and Arthur were going on about it you would have thought they were getting married, but a few messages was more than George was ever expecting.

What he wasn’t expecting however was a message from her when the episode went live.

“Who’s this guy you want to kiss? It’s Isaac isn’t it?” The message teased.

“Why, jealous?” George’s heart thumped in his chest as he sent the response, he was getting really bold now, hopefully it wouldn’t scare her off. He stared at his phone for a while and his heart started beating fast as instead of a message his phone started to ring, why was she calling him? He glanced at the screen and froze for a moment before answering. “Y/N! Hey.”

“Hey, George,” Y/N said, her voice light. “My notifications have been blowing up with people tagging me in the comments of that video and the other one still asking for that collab. I know we mentioned it briefly but I was wondering if you were up for it and maybe we could plan something?

George perked up. “I think it’s a great idea. Your skits and impressions are amazing—I’d love to work on something with you.”

“Awesome. Maybe we could brainstorm some ideas together?”

“Yeah, for sure,” George said. “How about lunch sometime this week?”

There was a brief pause before Y/N replied, her tone teasing. “Lunch sounds nice, but how about dinner instead? You know, make it more of a proper meeting.”

George’s heart skipped a beat. “Dinner works too,” he said, trying to sound casual. “When are you free?”

“Friday night?” Y/N suggested.

“Perfect,” George said, his excitement barely contained. “I’ll text you the details.”

As they ended the call, George couldn’t stop grinning. Max would never let him hear the end of this, let alone Chris or either of the Arthur’s but for once, he didn’t mind.

[goldfades]

https://www.tumblr.com/goldfades/768009162138517504/title-luke-hughes

What about luke’s reaction? coming into the room after the boys told him he was wrong at practice or something, maybe he saw the comments?

it’s a little past eight when you hear the front door slam. you’re curled up on the couch, scrolling through your phone with a smug grin on your face. the video you posted earlier is still blowing up, comment after comment pouring in. your favorite so far might be the one that reads “he’s so confident it’s actually heartbreaking”—but there’s stiff competition.

the sound of heavy footsteps stomping down the hallway makes your ears perk up, and you sit up straighter just in time for luke to appear in the doorway. he’s still in his practice gear, hair damp with sweat and his cheeks flushed pink, but his expression is what gets you: somewhere between confusion, betrayal, and... is that a pout?

“you,” he says, pointing at you with the kind of dramatic flair usually reserved for soap operas. “you set me up.”

you blink innocently, setting your phone down. “i have no idea what you’re talking about.”

luke steps further into the room, his arms crossed tightly over his chest. “don’t play dumb. the guys wouldn’t shut up about your video during practice. jack kept reading the comments out loud! ‘cuticle pusher means nail thingies? HAHAHA.’ do you know how humiliating that is?”

you’re already biting your lip to keep from laughing, but when he mimics jack’s voice, the dam breaks. you burst into giggles, doubling over as luke groans loudly.

“it’s not funny!” he protests, though the way his ears turn pink suggests he’s more embarrassed than actually mad. “i was so proud of myself, and you—you let me think i was getting them all right!”

wiping a tear from your eye, you manage to catch your breath long enough to speak. “okay, okay, listen. it wasn’t my fault you were so confident! i mean, ‘tight lines’? really?”

he groans again, flopping onto the couch next to you with a dramatic sigh. “i knew something was off when you said i got ‘halo eye’ right. but you were so convincing!” he shoots you a look, half accusing, half amused. “you’re evil. actually evil.”

you snicker, nudging his shoulder. “oh, come on. you were having fun.”

“yeah, until i realized you were setting me up for the internet to roast me,” he mutters, pulling his phone out of his pocket. “look at this—this one says i belong in a museum for confidence alone.”

you glance at his screen and can’t help but laugh again. “they’re not wrong.”

he groans, tossing his phone onto the coffee table and sinking lower into the couch. “i’ll never live this down.”

“oh, stop being dramatic,” you tease, leaning your head on his shoulder. “you made people laugh, and isn’t that what really matters?”

he’s quiet for a moment, then tilts his head toward you, lips twitching like he’s fighting a smile. “did i at least look good in the video?”

you grin, reaching up to ruffle his curly hair. “you always look good, lukey. even when you’re confidently getting everything wrong.”

his laugh rumbles under your ear as he finally relaxes, letting himself sink into the moment. “you better watch your back, though. payback is coming.”

“oh, i’m shaking,” you say with a smirk, already planning the next video in your head.

↳ make sure to check out my navigation or masterlist if you enjoyed! any interaction is greatly appreciated !

↳ thank you for reading all the way through, as always ♡

[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. 

[audioroleplayconfessions]

Some general VA opinions I have that are in the back of my mind:

• Escaped Audios has a friendly ass voice. I've only ever heard him speaking OOC like once, but he sounds like he's nice to people. AND IK THAT SOUNDS WEIRD BUT THATS HOW MY BRAIN ARTICULATES IT.

• I frequently think about how gagged I was to realize ZSakuVA is English. I think I found him through Elias or something, and I only ever binge one character at a time so I was none the wiser until I started Noble Trials. Even the, my initial thought was "Damn, I've never heard an American hit an English accent this hard". Either way, great range. Also I like his sound design or whatever it's called a LOT, super emersive.

• The way Yuurivoice responds to some of his asks makes me giggle. Also, audios aside, I think he's done a great job branding his channel, especially aesthetically. I know he has a team and stuff, so props to them too. I could have my phone brightness set extra dim, glasses off, half asleep, and I could spot a YV video from like, a mile away.

• The Stroke Of Midnight seems like a damn sweetheart 😭 I'm not gonna lie, I rarely listen to the ends of videos, but I always listen to his. He's always thanking his editor and the script writer and idk, he just seems so sincere. Also he's mad slept on.

• CastleAudios has one of the most believable self-collabs I feel like. Obviously, she plays all of her characters in her muti-listener collage, but I think aside from the subtle changes in performance, it's her characterization of them. You can TELL when someone knows their OCs, and I feel like she does.

• Mr. Laveau has suuuuuuch excellent song choices in their audios. And honestly, my absolute favorite character designs full stop. The kind of audio you put in 1080p so you can examine the art properly.

• Not a VA, but specifically Lupin-Stole-My-Heart and ItsEsmeJones, I fuck with y'all HEAVY. They have carried some of my favorite series on their backs, MAJOR shout-out to them and anyone who writes scripts. Genuine respect.

• Can't mention writers without bringing up artists too, especially as an artist myself. Those of y'all who make these beautiful designs for VAs, and the VAs who draw their own art, MAJOR PROPS. I think especially right now, I want it to be made known that your contributions are appreciated. Thank you :]

Uhhh idk I think I'll cap it here, since if I went on about every VA I've ever watched, we'd be here forever. Generally though, to all of the VAs, ASMRtists, creators, whatever label fits you best, thanks a bunch. I caaaaaant even put into works how much joy, comfort, and true wonder your stuff has brought me, and others I'm sure. So thank you.

- 🩵🌟 (ps if you guessed who this is from how I type, NO YOU DIDNT).

.

[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.

[aishangotome]

Azel Radwan: Chapter 17

Chapter 16 Letter

Thank you @passthechloroform for providing the video for this chapter!

♡———♡

The dress that the maids, who now serve me with a sense of urgency unlike when we first met, prepared for me was woven with moons and stars, perhaps in deference to the Living God.

(This dress is truly lovely.)

I can't help but look down at myself whenever I get the chance, admiring the night sky dress.

The fabric itself subtly shines depending on the light, and I'm amazed by the dressmaking technique, which is different from Rhodolite's.

Silvio: They've prepared somethin' quite fine for you. As expected of a woman favored by God.

Silvio, who is accompanying me to the evening party as my escort, also seems to notice the meaning of my gaze and shows a mischievous smile at the corner of his mouth.

Emma: I'm not favored. As you saw during the day, I'm just an easy mark.

Silvio: Don't say that about yourself. Do those two know that you're in debt?

Emma: No. I didn't want to worry them...

(In that respect, it's easier to talk to Silvio because we have an appropriate distance between us.)

The prince of Benitoite doesn't worry excessively about me and maintains his position as a bystander.

Emma: Speaking of which, I haven't seen Clavis and Luke today.

Silvio: That pleasure-seeker has a lot of connections. He's probably drinking somewhere.

(I wonder if he's gathering information about the Triple Alliance.)

Silvio receives two glasses from a waiter and offers one of them to me.

Silvio: Here, you should drink too.

Emma: Thank you.

Silvio: But I won't take care of ya if you get drunk.

Emma: I certainly wouldn't cause you that much trouble, Prince Silvio.

(...Hmm, this is rich and delicious.)

While wetting my throat, I listen to the surroundings.

Nobleman: The riot the other day? Ah, that will soon be a past event we can laugh about.

Nobleman: As long as the Living God is alive, we'll be fine no matter what happens.

Noblewoman: These days, there are diviners for tourists, right? That's why divinations have become inaccurate.

Noblewoman: The Living God's blessings are only for the people of our own country...

Noblewoman: People from other countries are having some kind of influence.

Nobleman: The Living God's residence is supposed to be a sacred sanctuary, but it seems that people other than God's messengers are going in and out.

Nobleman: Even the favored girl aside, the sanctuary should be a sacred ground that must not be defiled, right?

Nobleman: Isn't the recent instability due to those disrespectful people who are violating the sacred?

(It seems like there are a lot of opinions and speculations about the situation in Tanzanite.)

(The common thing is that everyone believes in the Living God.)

(Even if divination has become inaccurate, faith doesn't crumble so easily.)

(At least the nobles attending the evening party are unwavering.)

???: Are you enjoying yourself?

Turning towards the familiar voice, His Majesty the King has come all the way to me.

I panic because I should be the one to greet him, but Enis smiles cheerfully, not seeming to mind at all.

Enis: You spoke to the Living God, didn't you? Let me thank you again.

Emma: But in the end, I couldn't bring him... I'm sorry.

Enis: No, I expected as much. If the Living God were to attend the evening party, it would truly be an omen of a cataclysmic event.

Enis: When he was a child, he often attended evening parties, his eyes sparkling at the delicious food...

Enis: But he stopped attending after a certain point.

Silvio: Oh, that's news to me. Did something happen?

The casual question created an inexplicable silence.

(...)

Enis: ...I'm sorry. Let's stop this conversation.

Enis: Because the Living God wouldn't want it.

(...Enis's expression is strained. Maybe the reason he doesn't attend the evening parties is more complicated than we think.)

Enis, as if nothing had happened, boldly drains the alcohol he was holding.

Enis: It's my turn to show you my sincerity, but it's a little inconvenient to talk about it here.

Enis: Let's meet in the throne room after the evening party.

Leaving only those words, Enis immediately headed to the seat prepared for the king and returned to chatting with the nobles.

Emma: ...That was an intriguing conversation.

Silvio: Ask him yourself.

Emma: It'll cost you.

Silvio: If you flirt with him, he might accidentally let it slip.

Emma: I don't think so.

Silvio: Ha, if you're serious, then I might understand God better than you.

(...)

Silvio: Woman, want to make a bet?

Silvio takes a sip of his alcohol and places the empty glass on the table.

Silvio: On whether the Living God will come to the evening party or not.

Emma: He clearly said he wouldn't come. Judging from the way Enis said it, I don't think he'll come either.

Silvio: Well then, I'll bet that he will come.

Silvio: How about the loser gives the winner a "special service ticket"?

Emma: ...Please forget about that already.

Silvio: Don't order me around.

(Why is he so confident?)

(Even though the odds are against him.)

Silvio: Unlike the last bet with God, I have a good chance of winnin' this time.

Emma: Specifically why?

Silvio: I told you, right? God favors ya.

Silvio: If a woman he favors dresses up and goes to an evenin' party, he normally wouldn't be able to stay calm.

Emma: ...I also said it already, didn't I? That I'm just an easy mark.

Silvio: That guy ain't the kind of good-natured person who would let just an easy mark live in his temple.

(Silvio seems to be implying that Azel's interest in me is genuine...)

I know better than anyone that it's impossible.

Emma: I'll probably win this bet.

Silvio: Keep telling yourself that. I have to start thinkin' about what I'll have yado.

(...Even though I think it's impossible, I can't calm down.)

I finish my drink and gently place the glass on the table.

(But if... if God really does appear at the evening party, then that's...)

In the distance, a heavy door opens with a loud sound.

At that moment, the noise dies down as if everyone has fallen into a dream.

(...That's...)

As if in response, the corners of Silvio's mouth lift.

Azel: I apologize for the interruption. Please don't mind me and continue your pleasant conversation.

Azel: I don't intend to spoil this enjoyable time.

Someone's agitation, someone's joy, someone's astonishment disappear into a world without sound.

The sacred being that has transformed the venue gives a compassionate smile and a benevolent gaze to all the people.

(...That's unfair.)

Enis: Living God...

Ennis rushes towards Azel with a flustered look.

It seems he really didn't expect him to come, and the word "astonishment" suits Enis perfectly right now.

Azel: Why are you so surprised? You called me, didn't you, Enis?

Azel: It's not bad to mingle and talk with everyone in a lively place once in a while.

Azel: Especially now, there are many people who are feeling uneasy, right? I hope my presence will be a source of support for everyone.

Enis: ...We are grateful for your compassion.

(The main character of the evening party has changed.)

From His Majesty the King to Azel--the participants, awakened from their dream-like state, gradually surround God.

Perhaps because he rarely appears in public, God is very popular.

Azel listens to the voices of the people without losing his smile.

Even though I know that he is a greedy, ill-natured God, I can't sense a shred of that.

(Even the people who were anxious earlier, and those who were voicing their complaints... everyone has a peaceful expression now.)

(As expected, God is great.)

Only Silvio and I are not surrounding Azel.

We move away from the crowd and engrave the image of God in our eyes from afar.

Silvio: You, prepare the service ticket, okay?

Emma: ...I don't understand.

Silvio: A loss is a loss. I said he would come, didn't I?

Emma: I admit defeat, but... what do you think he said to me at first?

Emma: He said, "Don't fall in love with me."

Silvio: Ah... he has terrible luck with women too. I understand how he feels.

Emma: After saying that himself, to come to the evening party...

Emma: I think it's really not right.

(If Silvio's guess is correct...)

Come to think of it, even though Azel doesn't mean to, he has a strangely unworldly air about him, and there have been many times when he's made my heart skip a beat.

(His lack of self-awareness is really troublesome. He's intelligent, but he's somehow clueless when it comes to dealing with people...)

As the one being toyed with, I can't stay calm.

Silvio: You can just ignore him. Or have you fallen for God too?

Emma: ...! No. I'm just lamenting the absurdity of it all.

Silvio: Ha, even your ears are red.

Emma: I drank some alcohol.

(...I'm just a little flustered.)

(That's all.)

Silvio teasingly pokes my ear, and I reflexively brush it away.

I glare at him, knowing it's disrespectful, and Silvio shifts his gaze, not at me--but further behind me...

Azel: Prince Silvio, are you enjoying our country's evening party?

(--...!?)

Before I knew it, God, who should have been surrounded by people, was standing behind me.

He places his hands on both my shoulders, and I jump in an exaggerated way.

Silvio: You should entertain the others instead of me. Everyone is eager to talk to ya, aren't they?

Azel: Of course, I'll talk to them, but...

Azel: Miss Emma, could you bring me a drink other than alcohol?

(...His voice is gentle, but...)

I secretly gasp, feeling an inexplicable pressure.

Emma: Are you... not good with alcohol?

Azel: No. It's just that a God doesn't drink alcohol.

(...I see.)

Emma: I'll bring it right away.

Silvio: Ask a maid.

Azel: Miss Emma is right next to me. Please.

(This is awkward.)

I rush away from Azel as if fleeing and look for a drink.

(Let's see, drinks other than alcohol...)

-

Azel: By the way, there's someone I'd like to introduce to Prince Silvio.

Azel: He's a rising star in our country's economic world, and will surely become a great merchant who will generate enormous wealth.

Azel: I think it wouldn't be a bad idea for Prince Silvio to make a connection with him now.

Silvio: For God to personally introduce someone? You're bein' awfully kind today.

Azel: I'm always kind to you, Prince Silvio.

Silvio: Ha, your intentions are obvious.

Azel: I suppose so. I just told you verbally.

Silvio: ...Well, fine. I'll let ya off the hook this time.

Silvio: I don't want to overdo it and earn your displeasure.

-

(...Found it.)

When I return with a container of water, Silvio has started drinking his second glass of alcohol with a young man.

Emma: Prince Azel.

Azel: Thank you.

Azel, receiving the water, looks at me for a moment as if he wants to say something, then turns his back.

Azel: Silvio seems busy, so you should go somewhere else.

Azel: Well then, I'll be going.

Azel returns to the circle of people and resumes his conversation.

Silvio also seems to be in a business discussion, and I'm left alone.

(...It seems like he only called out to me to separate me from Silvio.)

(No, I hope I'm just overthinking it.)

(If not...)

(God is too sinful.)

-

Azel: Ah, damn it, I can't take this anymore.

As soon as the evening party ends, Azel starts cursing.

He ignored me at the venue, but as soon as it was over, he caught me and dragged me into a guest room.

Emma: That's my line.

(I was planning to gather information at the venue, but I ended up being distracted by Azel.)

Azel: ...Are you angry about something?

Emma: Do you have any idea why I might be?

Azel: There's no way I would.

Emma: ...

Azel: Don't look at me with those reproachful eyes. Speak.

Emma: It's nothing. Please don't worry about it.

Azel: ...No, I can't help but worry...

Azel: In the first place, you're the one...

Azel, sitting on a long sofa by the window, points at me mercilessly.

Azel: What do you think you're doing, flirting with another man in public when you're obsessed with God?

Emma: I wasn't trying to flirt...

Azel: Yes, you were flirting. If you say that wasn't flirting, then what is?

(...Did I look that close to Silvio in Azel's eyes?)

Azel: If you get along with other men, the people around you might get the wrong idea and think you're no longer God's property.

Azel: It will only lead to trouble, so don't create unnecessary sparks.

(He has a point, but...)

Emma: Prince Azel... could you be jealous--

Azel: It's news to me that you have any value to be jealous of.

Azel overlaps my words as if to erase them.

His compassionate smile is nowhere to be found now.

Emma: Then why did you come to the evening party?

(I want a convincing explanation.)

Azel: I couldn't ignore it if Prince Silvio was going to participate, could I?

Azel: There was also someone I wanted to introduce to him for future purposes.

Emma: During the day, you were adamant about refusing.

Azel: I thought the wall repairs would take a long time, so I sent you away, but they finished earlier than expected, and I had free time.

Emma: ...

Azel: Ah, and also...

Azel puts his hand in his pocket and takes out a piece of paper.

(Ah, I forgot to collect that.)

In my line of sight, the free service ticket is waved back and forth.

Azel: I thought I'd take this after all.

Azel: You seem like the type who wouldn't listen even if you were in debt, right?

Azel: It's not a bad idea to have a ticket on hand to make you absolutely obey me at such times.

Emma: ...Promise you won't misuse it?

Azel: Me, misuse it? That's absurd.

(Maybe that was careless...)

Azel: Anyway, there were various advantages to showing up this time.

Azel: ...Judging from your face, Prince Silvio must have put some nonsense in your head...

Azel: Don't flatter yourself. I only act for my own benefit.

Azel: Certainly not because I was dissatisfied with Prince Silvio being your escort, or because I was interested in your dress...!

Azel: It's not for those reasons, so don't misunderstand.

Emma: I-I understand.

(But... why won't he meet my eyes?)

At first, I thought it was my imagination, but when I deliberately try to make eye contact, he blatantly avoids it.

Emma: ...Prince Azel?

Azel: I'm tired.

Emma: Is there a connection?

Azel: There is. Don't make me waste my energy on strange things.

(Being this unnatural makes me suspicious again.)

(Azel not meeting my eyes means he either has something to hide or he's embarrassed.)

Azel: Besides, why don't you get changed?

Azel looks out the window sulkily.

Emma: Of course, I'll change, but... I'm going to see Enis now.

Azel: Huh?

Emma: He might already be waiting for me, so I'll go ahead.

I turn around with lingering thoughts, but he quickly grabs my hand.

Azel: ...At night, alone?

Emma: Yes, alone.

Azel: Are you stupid? Enis is the master of the harem.

Emma: But you said that Enis is the best person to ask about the prophecy of the end...

Azel: That's true, but it's not.

(W-what does that mean?)

Just as silence falls, Azel stands up, scratching his hair.

Azel: I remembered something I need to do.

Emma: ...With Enis?

Azel: I couldn't talk to him properly at the evening party.

Emma: ...

Azel: What?

Emma: You're jealous after all--

I immediately cover my cheek with my hand, taking a defensive stance.

As expected, Azel's hand, which was about to pinch my cheek, is left hanging in the air.

(I won't fall for the same trick twice.)

Finally, I make proper eye contact with Azel.

His mystical eyes, filled with stars, are narrowed more unhappily than I expected--

Azel: ...Is that wrong?

.

.

.

Chapter 18

If you’d like to support my translations, feel free to buy me a coffee here! :)

Holy CRAP I was going to stop translating after Ch 16 for today, but I was way too intrigued with Silvio trying to make Azel jealous. My heart was beating out of my chest during this whole chapter omg I love jealous Azel!!!!

[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

[unjest]

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.

[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

[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!! 😍🥰