#bad listener
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Y’all want Taylor Swift to be gay so bad but you won’t even write femslash about her
#I was curious so I looked it up 1038 fics on ao3 tagged Taylor Swift and f/f#like I’m not necessarily encouraging people to go out and write rpf#but it’s wild that arguably the biggest musical artist right now who has a huge community speculating about her sexuality has so little fic#like this isn’t a good or bad thing I just think it’s interesting#idk I’m not actually a swiftie like that#like I listen to her music and keep up generally with what she’s doing but I’m not really in the fandom#so there might be something I’m missing
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Was forced to get a new phone today
#Bluetooth earbuds are the bane of my fucking existence and I hate them so fucking bad#I NEED those wired buds to fiddle with my hands when I’m anxious#I also like not having to fucking CHARGE the things I’m listening to stuff with#I hate this future this sucks bootyass#prince rambles in this chilies tonight
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Kihrin needs to pay more attention to what people are actually promising, rather than what he wants them to have said.
Jenn Lyons, from The Ruin of Kings
#character flaws#fatal flaw#let's make a deal#deal making#wishful thinking#bad listener#nuance#promises#vows#deal with the devil#talking#communication issues#characterization#quotes#lit#words#excerpts#quote#literature#jenn lyons#the ruin of kings#selective listener
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a personal favourite bit of dialogue
#edit: anyone in the notes ever listen to danish rock band mew's breakout 2003 album 'frengers'?#because we have made bad life decisions. he never ceased to be real as hell#.txt#disco elysium#kim kitsuragi
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Danny is gravely injured by the GIW, his voice box is severely damaged.
Making use of his own voice is impossible, but through some ghostly means Danny doesn’t quite understand, he can mimic others voices he hears just fine.
It’s a ghostly ability he found out he had a few years ago, with just a sentence or two heard he can do a flawless impression of that person. Now it’s not so flawless. The mimicked voice warps and fluctuates pitch, it’s crackly and he has a hard time not switching between multiple voices with every sentence he speaks.
His voice is reduced to an uncanny frankenstined attempt at speech that activates the average persons fight or flight response.
It’s no surprise that Superman is startled when he calls out for survivors while freeing the ghostly captives and a “not a deer” version of his own voice responds back.
#bones prompts#dpxdc#danny phantom#dp x dc#I’m listening to creepcasts ‘the thing in the basement is getting better at mimicking people’#and even though that creepypasta is so corny and bad I wanted to mess around with spooky mimickry Not Right voice stuff with dpxdc
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Guys they’re. They’re speaking doorwings
Tf one gave me Jazz with wings so now I’m giving you more of Jazz with wings~
#maccadam#transformers#prowl#jazz#jazzprowl#tf one#transformers one#ngl at first I thought that Jazz with doorwings is meh#but listen#they can communicate in wing flaps ahaha#hundreds of fics prepared me for this moment~#also. Prowl’s baby face is#ahahah#tf one Prowler is so cute#you look at him you think he is physically incapable of doing anything even slightly bad#I wonder if he ever uses it to his advantage..
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the many faces of figueroth faeth
#dimension 20#fantasy high#dimension 20 fanart#fig faeth#fig faeth fanart#figueroth faeth#d20#d20 fanart#d20 fh#fantasy high fanart#fantasy high junior year#d20 fantasy high#kristen applebees#kristen applebees fanart#kipperlilly copperkettle#lucy frostblade#the bad kids#wanda childa#LISTEN i know this isnt All of them#but these ones served the most cunt. to ME
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Thinking a LOT about Lucifer in the latest Hazbin episode. Idk what I was expecting but not this??
As I was watching my immediate thought was just "huh... Lucifer is kinda of weird..." but as the episode went on I realized the issue
the dude is off the chain depressed, like he says it as a joke but holy cow it is SO BAD
He's manically just creating rubber ducks cuz his daughter really like it that one time but it's empty, it's never good enough but he keeps doing it, maybe cuz he doesn't know how to pass the time otherwise.
like I get the feeling he HAS better things he SHOULD be doing than making rubber duck after rubber duck. At first I was like, "Bruh why isn't the king of hell doing anything?" aaaaand then it became clear...
The dude is disassociating so bad he can barely hold a conversation let alone remember information. He clearly WANTS to, he wants to be involved with his daughter so bad, he wants to care about the things she's doing so bad, but his depression keeps interfering. It's like he can only hear every other word and he grasps onto the ones he does hear semi-out of context. Like you can see every time he catches something that he hadn't before and he just "well shit I didn't catch that part"
and that's why he reacts so weird when people talk to him. He is struggling so bad to engage with the conversation he's only getting 50% of it
does that look like the face of a man who knows what the hell the conversation is even about??? he is STRUGGLING
like Charlie spent so long telling him about the hotel, and he STILL didn't understand what she wanted. Yeah it comes off as ditzy but literally I've been in that position where your brain just "nope, not doing this right now" and nerfs your conversation comprehension. So as someone who's BEEN in that position, to me it feels exactly like what he's dealing with. He's sorta engaged with the conversation, but only as much as his brain will allow
For example, when I'm dealing with this, this is what someone talking to me feels like this where the crossed out parts are what I missed and bold is what I catch, "Hey! You know I was thinking for dinner we could either make some chicken with rice? But if you don't feel like cooking, pasta is super easy and you love that right? What do you want to do?" you can kinda get that someone is trying to talk to you about dinner, and towards the end you get the impression that they asked something that needs your input so you can decently put 2 and 2 together and try and pass off, but crucial bits were left out, I would have no idea that either chicken or pasta is in the conversation only having heard "rice". When someone is just talking at me, I can decently pass off as being engaged but the second I'm required to participate in the conversation I'm screwed. Seem familiar? At which point I have 2 options, try to give a bullshit answer, or admit that I missed what they were saying and ask them to repeat
Lucifer, unfortunately, is trying so damn hard to hide that he's dealing with like 24/7 dissociation, so he can't admit that he's missing entire chunks of the conversation, hence his really weird replies. He does eventually get the full picture and then he and Charlie start having the real conversation
Also, the Alastor/Lucifer rivalry was hilarious but also really indicative of more of what Lucifer is dealing with
Alastor is, unfortunately, really good at picking up people's insecurities, and thanks to Charlie's description earlier and watching Lucifer clearly trying to overcompensate, he immediately picks up on the fact that Lucifer KNOWS he struggles to be a good dad (we know cuz it's cuz of the depression, hard to be engaged when your brain keeps turning off) and decides to rub salt in the wound by pretending he's been acting as a surrogate father to Charlie. Now why Alastor decided to pick a fight with the king of hell is beyond me, I do not understand Alastor (and I LIKE IT) (maybe it's cuz Alastor thinks he's hot shit and was expecting Lucifer to at least have heard of him but Lucifer just treats him like a nobody? who knows)(why would Lucifer listen to radio anyways when he can't even pay attention to a conversation it'd just be white noise)
But yeah I just was expecting someone who oozed either charisma or presence and instead I got a depressed dad who's dissociating so bad he can barely function and be present in his life. The only thing it seems he CAN do is make rubber ducks cuz his daughter really liked it that one time
Idk Lucifer is tragic to me. Whatever the full details of what heavan did to him absolutely broke him and he can't deal with it. He's aware of it, and he doesn't know how to fix it, so he tries to over compensate and sorta makes an ass out of himself but no one says or does anything cuz this guy is supposed to be THE king of hell
Suddenly it's making a lot more sense why he just rolls over and lets heaven do what it wants and even told Charlie to go in his place the start of the show. He's not in any headspace to hold a basic conversation let alone negotiate! He didn't even know who Alastor was, he's been so out of touch
idk I like him, he seems sweet, I hope Charlie brings some light back into his life. He really needs to get out of that rubber duck room
#hazbin spoilers#hazbin hotel#lucifer#lucifer morningstar#analysis#dissociation#look idk what to tell you all#I watched the episode and everything makes so much more sense#when you realize he's only intaking like 50-60% of the conversations#he's not bad at listening his brain is literally preventing him from getting everything#literally I've been there#the difference between him and me tho#is that he can't show it#he's the king of hell#he has to bluff his way through conversations#but yeah literally rewatch the episode with this in mind#and watch him reply to the things he DID catch#anyways#NEW BLORBO????#who'd've thought I would go into Hazbin Hotel#and come out with freaking LUCIFER as my favorite character#I love him#he's so sad
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I don't know if anyone's mentioned this yet but... Jace, while still alive, is probably going to jail, which leaves Aguefort without a Sorcery teacher for next September.
Do you know who: 1. just came to town, 2. is staying for at least a year, 3. seemingly has innate spellcasting, and 4. has actual experience taking care of and stewarding teenagers?
Picture it: First day of Senior Year, Gorgug Thistlespring walks through the halls, a rockstar drummer, pioneer of the Barbificer multiclass, and four time savior of the world. He's feeling great, this is gonna be a good year. Then he turns a corner and sees him.
There he is, in all of his High Elven glory, trying desperately to wrap his head around to whom his new students are referring to when mentioning this "chat" person. Professor Telemaine Lomenelda, Aguefort’s newest Sorcery teacher.
#listen... it's basically tradition for a relative of the bad kids to join the Aguefort staff#let's keep it going for senior year!!#dimension 20#fantasy high#telemaine lomenelda#gorgug thistlespring#fantasy high junior year
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Sketching while streaming s5...
Jonathan Sims I will learn to draw you (this is my doing. I could draw him however I want and I choose to stick with an image of him in my brain that is difficult for me to draw. Masochism.)
Not s5 Mahtins below I enjoyed drawing cuz hes neat:
(Edit: I yassified Martin in the do not separate cuz I wanted his hair fluffier)
#yes I realize Jon and Martin are in different fucking art styles let me live#do not accuse me of being AI this difficulty drawing hands is all natural I worked hard drawing for years just to fucking suck at it#update I listened to 170 I heard it was devastating but my ass was LAUGHING#poor martin but omg me and my buddy had everywhere at the end of time in the background and shit was so funny#he forgor 😭💀#it was emotionally devastating at the end tho Jon suggesting he stay there um btich NO?!#Jon the literal Lonely is not worse tham being around you get a fucking grip#helen continues to be the best character her showing up for the juicy gossip is so fucking real#anyagays#tma#tma podcast#the magnus pod#tma fanart#jonathan sims#the magnus archives#my art#martin blackwood#jonmartin#jmart#tma jmart#tma season 5#tma spoilers#i have to make a diagram for my jon and martin designs for s5 SO bad#if only i could draw jon.... >:(#i need u guys to know that my martin loves plaid and jon is wearing a plaid shirt thats too big in s5... inchresting....
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Pit Bonnie is doing his best as a FNAF dad..
#myart#chloesimagination#comic#fnaf#five nights at freddy's#fnaf fanart#fnaf oswald#pit bonnie#into the pit#fazbear frights#listen guys#I JUST LOVE pit Bonnie trying his best at being a dad#so it does things they assume are dad activities#like they don’t really know but are guessing#so like cooking being stern idk building a car#I JUST love when a horror beyond human comprehension tries its best to BE human#ITS FUNNY cause Oswald’s dad is canonically bad at cooking#so maybe pit Bonnie’s food is better even if it’s all pizza#Oswald is not eating that food out of respect for his actual dad BAHA
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can't get much better
pairing: ghost / simon riley x fem reader summary: simon is forced to take some time off - he makes the most of it. tags/warnings: very soft, pregnant sex, size difference, softdom!simon- he's a masculine man who doesn't let his lady lift a finger :'), oral (f), one (1) butthole kiss, dacryphilia, daddy kink (sigh), minor minor foot stuff, allusions to injuries and chronic pain, title from an adrianne lenker song w.c: 2.5k
You try very hard not to think about it, but it's hard not to notice how massive he is.
Even shirtless, he somehow looks bigger, muscles flush with heat and exertion under the sun. He toils and breathes hard like an ox, working while you sit on the porch wrapped in his big flannel. Wearing his clothes is like being swaddled in a blanket straight out of the dryer, warm and nostalgic and syrupy with love. It leaves you feeling some type of tender. You're afraid of that feeling sometimes, of how soft it is and how soft it makes you. He could ask anything of you, and you'd yield like he was pressing his thumb into a bruised peach.
You have.
"How are you two?" Simon is so quiet when he wants to be. One would think he'd clomp like a horse with how big he is, but he can float like dust. It used to startle you, but you've been sinking deeper into the memory foam mattress of this life with him and it doesn't anymore.
"Tired, even though I'm not doing anything," you squint at him through the late afternoon sun. It haloes him like an angel.
"You're growing my baby in there, love. That's not nothing," his voice is rough, it always will be. But it's rough now like earth and soil rather than rough with pain and smoke the way he'd sounded when you met him.
You're feeling especially nostalgic, it seems, not like it's hard here. His hand is warm on your belly.
"I guess so," you let him pet you for a moment. Your stomach is swollen but not as big as it'll get, just enough to veto pants. A few months to go still. "How's your back?"
"Argh," Simon says, taking a heavy seat next to you. Dismissive and yet he groans a little when his muscles unclench. Classic.
You slowly reach up and nudge him until he's facing the field opposite to you, face toward the golden afternoon sun and his back to you. He's never asked you to do this, to take care of him, but it's your favourite thing in the world.
His back is always rock-hard no matter how many times you take your knuckles and fingers to it. Just a condition of a hard life lived for him, countless falls and impacts and pushing through injuries. There's a slight slant to his spine now that isn't there in the pictures he's shown you of his youth, but the stiffness is the same. You might've said he was born to be a soldier, had you not known him as a father. He could do both, but - you'd never say this out loud - you were privately grateful for this injury. It wouldn't take him out forever, but the recovery would be long. Long enough to get the homestead started, to get you pregnant.
Simon would never be completely still. This was compromise. Sweet compromise, a life started and time with him you could think back on the next time he shipped out. Making the most of things, he would always say. Making the time count.
"That feels good, love" he groans. Bending forward slowly, relaxing, he's like an aloof stallion finally accepting an apple from your hand. Acquiescing. Showing you his back. It's trust, and you savour it.
"I bet it does," you tease back, just a little. Your fingers are nimble and attuned to his specific aches and pains. "Are you hungry for dinner?"
"I'm hungry for something," he turns, slowly, hands reaching for your thickened waist. Huge, work-roughened hands. War-roughened hands, holding you like a delicate egg. Sometimes it feels like he's the only thing that holds you together; all your pieces, everywhere, until he's holding you.
Kissing him is a contact sport. It's his hands moving, cupping your breast and then your pussy through your panties, your own hands wrapping around his broad shoulders like he's the only thing keeping you from drowning. It's open-mouthed, breathing into each other. Impossibly, you get softer, melting like ice on a hot day.
Before you can lean back on the bench, he stands and lifts you with him. He's still hot from the day, damp with sweat, pushing you into the house while kissing you still.
"Simon-" you start, with no goal in mind. "Please."
"I've got you, love," he murmurs. He always does. Before you know it, you're laid back onto the plush armchair in your living room. Simon knows this is the most comfortable place for your newly-aching body. Affection swells in your chest uncontrollably and comes out through your eyes leaking down your face. Sure, pregnancy makes people emotional - but you're still embarrassed, touched by how considerate he is.
"It's alright, shh," he thumbs the tears at the corner of your eyes. His cock tents his work pants, aroused by them. "Let me take care of you."
The next words he murmurs are into your cunt, right over your panties, tongue laving over the already-wet fabric. "Just need your daddy, don't you?" You clench in tandem with his words, hot all over, skin prickling. He pushes your dress up, bunching it right under your tits.
It's reminiscent of how you spent the first night with him, on the very first day you'd met. Hurried, his big head between your thighs and clothes hanging off you still while he made you fall apart.
He's fucking good at it, too. Pulls your panties to the side and builds up the pressure with which he sucks on your clit, softly and then harsher until you shake. You've been extra horny lately, always wet around him and always so swollen. The scrape of his five-o-clock shadow against the sensitive skin of your inner thigh is what tips you over, clamping his head tightly and shouting your orgasm into the heady summer air.
"That all it takes?" Simon grins, chin wet, fingers moving from your hips to your pussy to gently rub along your slit.
"Give me a second, please," it's humbling how quickly you come nowadays. Quick and intense. Fireworks.
You set your foot on his shoulder and he turns towards it, kissing your ankle. Patience is rare with him, something come about only since you confirmed your pregnancy. You miss being overwhelmed by him, miss the nights where he'd guide you over the edge one, two, three times in succession.
He pushes now, just a little, not waiting for your go-ahead but watching you intently. His fingers spread your cunt in a V and he puffs a breath on your sensitive clit. You jump. He grins again, leaning down to lick you, using one hand to hold both your legs under your knees and push them until they meet the soft bump of your belly.
"Hold them there," he says. It's spoken not to you, but to your hole, which he spears his tongue into. You obey as you're helpless to do, holding your legs up and giving him an unimpeded view. It's more than vulnerable, it's not only baring yourself to him completely but giving him the authority to do what he wants. What you need.
Simon eats you out like it's a kiss, slurping you down and letting you leak until the evidence of your weakness to him is all over you. Your legs are wet, and it drips down onto your other hole. He pushes a thumb into your cunt, dipping it in and out.
"Needed me, did'ya? Watched me all day," he's so smug, sometimes. His lips find your bare foot, kissing your sole. "Been wet like this all day?" His other hand finds the meat of your asscheek, spreading you open further, letting the split of you open to him. He leans down, kissing your inner thigh, then your other hole. You whine and clench your pussy around his thumb.
"So needy," he murmurs, finally finally moving back to your clit. Flicks his tongue over it, something that might've been teasing before but is intense now. Your hands tighten against your legs, head thrown back.
"Oh please- Simon!" You shout again, abs drawing up, stars in your eyes. "Ahh- I'm-"
"I know, honey," his lips suction again around the hard little pebble of your clit, eating like a man starved.
This is how he likes you. Losing control, coming apart, helplessly vocal against the onslaught of his tongue. No matter how many times you've done this, it never gets old. The release almost always makes you cry, especially intense like this. You're wet all over, face and cunt and legs. He is, too.
"You still with me, love?" He pets your flank like you're a horse.
"Yes," but that's not what he wants.
"Yes what?"
"Yes, daddy."
"Good girl," and fuck if that doesn't always fill you with warm fuzzy energy. Wipes your brain, keeps you soft and floaty.
He guides you up and out of the armchair, lifts you into his arms when your legs shake too much. That electric feeling is still coursing through you, tingles in your extremities as they come back to life.
The hand he strokes over you is half affectionate, half proprietary. You've been his since the first time he laid eyes on you.
He reminds you of it as he sets you down gently on the bed, your hair a halo around your head and hands reaching to his face where you pull him down for a kiss. Hands find his shirt, pulling it off you, and then the dress. Fingertips touch the headboard, your arms stretching up, making room for him. Slips your panties down your legs.
It's a lingering, indulgent kiss. Breathing each others air, gasping into his mouth, he puts his elbows by your head and lays as much weight down as he can without cramping your full belly. He's as vocal as you, groaning and rutting like a dog.
"Ready for me, sweet girl?" He leans out of the kiss, sitting back on his heels. You nod, desperate and pulsing between the legs again like you didn't just come twice.
"Daddy's gonna take care of you, don't you worry," he rearranges you like a doll, turning you to your side and getting between your legs. A pillow is tucked under your belly, and he tests your flexibility by holding your leg tight to the length of his body. Your hamstring burns a little with it.
A hand holds your knee, another to your waist. His jeans scrape against your sensitive skin.
You focus on little details. His scar, touching his eyebrow and splitting through his nose, ending down by his jaw. The knuckles on his fingers holding your knee, and how rough the pads of his fingers feel on your waist. This man has never had soft hands in his life. Those same hands capable of so much force, so much violence, the very same that hold you and guide you. A shepherd, you his lamb.
The weeping head of his cock kisses your hole, catching there and traveling up. He taps it against your clit until you're tensing, whining, needy again. Tears down your cheeks.
He steadies you, pets your waist, guides his cock inside and it feels like you can breathe again. His mouth laves hot kisses over your ankle, the sole of your foot again, reverent and controlling all at once. The stretch burns - it always does, and maybe always will. Simon is just so big, thick all around and the mushroom head of him could always bump your cervix if he's not careful.
He's careful now, but only just. You can sense his control fraying, his hips driving forward steadily but his thighs tensing and his grip getting meaner. This is your favourite part. Watching him sweat, breathe hard, taking his pleasure in you.
"Yeah-" he cuts himself off with a long, drawn out groan. Deep, from the bottom of his belly and out. "Already so full of me, aren't ya? Can't get full enough."
You plead with your sounds, words out of your grasp. Your hands clutch at the sheets but it isn't enough. He's solid, he's your anchor, but he's losing himself in your cunt and you're free falling.
"Play with your tits for me," he commands, pumping faster. You're reflexively tightening around him, clit jumping for attention, squeaking each time he lets himself in as deep as possible and touches the mouth of your cervix.
Sunlight slowly fades on the bed, the last golden rays escaping out the window as you're bathed in dusk.
There's nothing to do but obey, hands finding your swollen breasts and squeezing. They've been sore and huge, like that week before you get your period only it's been a couple months. None of your bras fit anymore.
Simon appreciates it, he loves it. Has you cooking for him with your tits out, nipples peaked and pussy leaking. They bounce, now, stopped only by your hands pinching and twisting. It's insane - no one in the world could replicate the feeling. No artist, no musician. Electricity zips from your breasts down to your clit and shit - you might come just like this, untouched, just full of your man and fondling yourself.
"Fuck, I can feel you squeezing me. Fucking," he pants, leaning over you, bending your leg. "Pinching my dick, sweetheart. Your pussy's so fucking good."
The orgasm begins in your toes, tingling. Your muscles tighten, drawing up, up, towards your cunt, which is making obscene sounds around him.
Simon sees the signs, sees your eyes rolling and your body going taut. He abandons your leg in favour of rubbing your clit with two big fingers quickly, up and down.
"That's it, sweetheart, come all over my cock. Go on," his voice is a snarl, barely distinguishable as human, beastly. "Be good for daddy.”
It's like the crescendo of an orchestra, like a summer afternoon in august, like waking up without a clogged nose after being sick, it's - really fucking good. You're near sobbing, crying out his name, abandoning your tits to reach for him desperately. He meets you halfway, shuddering his own orgasm into you. The press of his hips against yours is better than buttered toast, the delicate press of his chest against yours as he lets your leg go is bliss.
"Si-imon," you slur, hands on his cheeks. He laughs and kisses your forehead.
"What's that, sweet girl?"
"I love you," you cry a little more then, feeling him pull out and lay next to you. You're boneless.
"I love you too," his arm reaches across you, pulling you into him. "Both of you." Hand on your belly again.
"That was insane," you pant. He barks a laugh against your hair. "I'm serious."
"I know you are, love," he kisses your forehead, petting your stomach. You can tell it's meaning, can feel the gratefulness behind the kiss. He's saying thank you, for staying with him, for making him a father. Your hand finds his, squeezing back a wordless reply. Of course, it says.
<3
#or> local citygirl listens to too much adrianne lenker and imagines simon getting you pregnant and living on a farm <3#he's definitely ooc i have a hard time writing men#BUT this is writing practice so whateva#cod x reader#cod mw2#task force 141#141 x reader#drgnfly writes#simon riley x reader#ghost x reader#simon ghost riley#simon riley#simon riley imagine#simon ghost riley x reader#simon riley x you#simon ghost x reader#im so bad at ending things lol#mdni#18+ mdni#simon riley cod#reader x simon riley#idk#hehe#i found the images on pinterest btw
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miss ma'ams..........
#bg3#bg3 fanart#shadowheart#karlach#shadowlach#karheart#shadowheart x karlach#baldur's gate 3#🧎♂️#listen. when i say i'm down bad#i am down BAD#i JUST#can you imagine a devil wears prada AU but with a twist and marriage of convenience and a hot poolboy affair LIKE#anway im kneeling
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they should invent a way to hug your online friends who live so so far away
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Bride Of Chucky (1998)
#Horror#Horroredit#Bride Of Chucky#Ronny Yu#Tiffany Valentine#CHB#1998#90s#You should want a bad bitch like this. or whatever it was that Coldplay said. I don't know I don't really listen to his music.
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Ever think about how It's kinda ironic to listen to bad listener. The song is about not listening, but you listen to it... the beartooth paradox...
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