#i did this one holy friday in less than an hour

[etherealily]

𝙒𝙃𝙄𝙋𝙇𝘼𝙎𝙃 // Nate Jacobs.

Nate Jacobs + Fem!reader. Dark. SFW, but discretion advised.

Cliffhanger or series? Haven't decided. Repost because of reasons.

You do NOT have permission to repost and/or translate any of my fics.

Desc.: You're needed. Now.

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It's not like you even knew Nate.

You knew of him, sure, quarterback and shit, but still, it was unlikely your paths would ever cross.

Until they did.

Until he started following you on Instagram.

That shit... was so unbelievably odd that you almost blocked him because you thought it was a fake account. But then you saw the mutuals. Holy shit. This was legit.

The fact that his account was private didn't surprise you. Yours was public because you had nothing to post and his was private because he had everything to hide.

You sent him a request. No biggie. I mean, he had to accept, right? He was the one who followed you first - it was only fair. And if it took too long, then you could always unsend it, yeah? Yeah.

It didn't take too long. It barely took three minutes.

Okay. Cool. Weird but cool.

The next day at school, it was normal. You didn't acknowledge him, and he didn't acknowledge you. An average social media interaction. Good.

--------

Come Friday evening, you decided that watching Maddy cheer was a little less important than your deadline and building your portfolio.

She absolutely supported you (rolled her eyes and said 'whatever, nerd. You still love me, right?') but was a little upset about it (pouted and called you a cunt).

Three hours went by, and you surprised yourself with the amount of work you were getting done. This is great. Friday evening well spent. Work a bit more, and then-

Nate Jacobs tagged you in a Close Friends story.

Close Friends? Tagged? NATE JACOBS?

Okay, one : no fucking way were you on his Close Friends.

Two : there were virtually zero pictures of the two of you, so tagging you was moot.

Three : there was supposed to be a game starting about fifteen minutes from now, Blackhawks versus whatever pretentious team they were going to beat, so why the fuck was he even online?

(Oh, yeah, the Blackhawks were absolutely fucking awesome.)

The story was only text. Text and nothing more.

Y/N, accept my message request. Now. I am not fucking around.

What message request? WHAT the fuck was going on?

You frowned, immediately scrolling over to messages. Shit. There was a request.

A picture, along with six other messages.

This was so strange. It was especially strange that he found the time to text you, when he was supposed to be practicing throwing the old pigskin around for the victory of his school. But text you he did. As if him following you wasn't enough to give you whiplash. "Yo."

"You're not here." No shit, Sherlock.

"You should be."

What the hell was that supposed to mean? This was the most excruciatingly awkward interaction you'd ever had.

"You should be here. Come."

Did he think he was super macho with all this mysterious, vague, one-word bullshit he was spewing? You know what, you'd actually bet your entire school tuition he did. But you wouldn't give him the satisfaction of asking why.

"U don't just send requests to random people. Don't act like you don't know me. Don't ignore my texts."

"I'm fucking losing it. Come now or else."

WHAT. THE. FUCK.

This was the most random thing to ever happen to you. Nate Jacobs, some random jock you never even said one word to, was texting you as if you had been best friends since two years old and you had always been all rah-rah-go-team for him.

You were almost scared to open the picture. Instagram asked you if you were sure. Once, twice. You should have listened. But you didn't, and you were about to face the consequences.

Red. That was the first thing you saw, and the first thing that had ever grossed you out enough to physically throw your phone away.

So much red.

Above the red, concealed almost cruelly, was a black box with white text in it. For a moment, your eyes were overwhelmed, so overwhelmed with the monstrosity in front of you that you couldn't even begin to comprehend what the words meant. You picked your phone back up, squinting your eyes and blocking out the rest.

He must have noticed you accepted his request, because you saw 'Typing...' pop up way too fast for him not to have been waiting.

"I'll cut deeper if you don't show up."

Nate Jacobs was a cruel and manipulative bastard of a man who you would happily let die.

But not like this.

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You glanced at the screen and then back at the road, from time to time. There was no indication that he was typing. The 'online' sign still stayed. Okay. So he either just threw his phone away while still on your chat or he was about to-

Nate Jacobs started an audio call.

Clearly tonight wasn't going to be the night you stayed in and finished all your assignments, like you'd decided.

"Pick up or I'll fucking kill you."

Yup, that sounded about right.

You laughed, incredulously. The genuine threat wasn't lost on you, but what else does one do in this situation besides laugh at the absurdity of it all?

Better safe than sorry. You swiped up.

"Y/N, please just come."

It felt so weird to hear him say your name. It felt even weirder to hear him say 'please'.

"Why?"

"You need to be here." His voice was unwavering.

"Look, Jacobs, I'm sorry, but I have projects and assignments to work on. Not to mention, my portfolio-"

You wanted to see how far you could take it. He couldn't hear your car's sounds, and he couldn't possibly track your location, so according to him, you were still sitting at home, petulantly.

If he was joking, he'd just cuss you out drunkenly. If he wasn't, he'd... keep begging.

"Jesus fuck, Y/N, just come!"

"I can't. I'm sorry."

Keeping your calm was the best thing you'd ever done for yourself, the greatest form of self-care you could give yourself, because Nate Jacobs sensing nervousness was like sharks smelling blood in the water. Quick and bad.

"I have important shit, too, you know? Scouts are here, Y/N, please!"

"Look-"

"Coach, I know, just five more minutes - FUCK, Y/N, you gotta come.", he pleaded, his tone becoming far too pathetic to brush off.

"Why?"

"Why? Whaddayamean why?", he huffed out, frustrated, as if you were supposed to know this already.

2 + 2. What galaxy we live in. The colour of the sky. Why you were needed at the game. According to this asshole, all these things were common knowledge.

"I will cut deeper."

"Stop bullshitting, Jacobs."

You hoped to god that your voice didn't betray your bewilderment. This better be a sick fucking joke.

"I'm cutting."

"Stop."

"Coach says the five minutes are up, but I won't play without you here."

A video. SHIT. FUCK.

"What the fuck is your problem?!"

Actually, no. This better not just be a joke, because if the entire school was in on this shit, you would end up cutting him.

The grunts of pain and sharp inhales from his side of the call got more and more grotesque as you pulled into the school parking lot.

The school had an unsettling vibrancy to it after hours, and this was only exacerbated by the fact that you were supposedly the cause for a boy to slice through his own skin. It shouldn't have seemed this vibrant, this overwhelming, this vivid, this.... bright, but it did. The world moved at an eerily quick pace, like a carnival ride on LSD.

As you ran across the parking lot and gripped the gate to the stadium and basically swung right past it, you finally realized how fucking loud a crowd could be.

It was like they knew that their QB might be bleeding out because of you, because they seemed to scream loud enough to torture you for eternity.

Immediately manhandled by Chris McKay -another jock you had absolutely no connection to, but who seemed to have a very personal grudge against you-, you were pushed out of the locker rooms as quickly as you came in. Fuck's sake.

"Let me go , McKay!"

"Coach is trying to calm him down, and if he sees you, we got no idea what he might do, okay? OKAY?", he ordered, sternly, through clenched teeth as he shook your shoulders.

He was earnestly trying to be calm and gentle, but his fingers gripping harder and harder into your arms did jackshit to help his case.

"Okay."

He nodded, sighing in some emotion that seemed oddly like relief.

What, did he expect more of a fight? Did he expect you to be all 'no, I gotta see him now?'

You had no clue who the hell this bastard was, let alone what he wanted. No way were you going to kick and shout for him.

"What the fuck is his problem?", you asked, sighing against McKay's chest, exhausted.

He shrugged, rubbing his forehead in exasperation. "He's stressed about the game."

"So he cuts himself in my name? We don't even know each other, dude!"

"Okay, he isn't exactly the one you go to for rationality, alright?"

"Yo, the fuck's going on, man? The game was supposed to start-"

The other team's captain.

"Yeah, we're just, uh, dealing with a situation over here.", assured McKay, biting the inside of his cheek to keep from going ballistic at Nate. Or you. Most likely Nate. But even more likely you. "Tell your coach we're so sorry, and we'll be out in a minute, tops."

The other guy scoffed, grumbling as he stomped away, glaring more at you than McKay. What, did everyone know now?

"He thinks we're trying to hook up before the game.", explained McKay, patiently, almost embarrassed. "It's a thing some athletes do, 'for luck'."

Jocks were the weirdest fucking aliens to ever exist.

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Crimson traced paths through the blinding white of the bandages wrapped tightly like dependent vines around his palm. Noticing the lack of uniformity of white, Coach tsked. "We need more. McKay!"

"Yes, Coach?"

"One more, then you can send her in."

"She came?" Nate's voice, though feeble and exhausted - and now, hopeful - was heard through the tiny gap in the door that McKay made sure would remain tiny as he passed the last bandage to him, and you didn't want to admit it, but it broke your heart.

Ew. Nate Jacobs was breaking your heart?

Coach finished wrapping Nate up, and McKay guided you in, with both measured aggression and protectiveness.

Nate's eyes lifted and brightened up immensely, a feat you'd only thought possible by a lone spark igniting and breach every inch of a dry leaf.

"You came."

"Son, I don't know what the hell you were thinking-"

"No, no, Coach, she's here, we can play."

Everyone stopped breathing at that moment. What the hell did the self-wounding quarterback asshole just say?

"What'd you just say, Jacobs?"

"We can play. Y/N's here. This isn't my good palm, anyway, so it's fine. Let's go."

And just like that, Nate was back. The amount of theses that could be written on this sheer anomaly of a man, the amount of studies that could be conducted, the amount of shock anyone else in this situation would go through- all unheard of.

No one else could handle it, though, besides all the people right there in the room. The best friend : self-taught and well-versed in handling him, the Coach : the authority figure that could calm him down with a bunch of fatherly words and....

And you : no one knew what the fuck you brought to the table. But something told you no one else would have survived in your shoes.

"Alright... then...?" Even Coach was absolutely speechless.

Nate nodded briskly, shooting up with a sudden burst of energy as he smiled at you.

Smiled.

Ladies and gentlemen : Nate Jacobs was on crack, confirmed.

He drew you in against his chest with an extremely unprecedented jerk, and you locked eyes with McKay behind him as he did so.

Not crack. Probably fent.

Your questioning gaze- which obviously said 'what in the everloving fuck is he doing?' - was met with a shrug and a look which suggested he barely even recognized his best friend right now.

"Okay, let's go WIN this motherfucker!", shouted Nate, patting your shoulder and loudly clapping his hands together before sprinting out of the locker rooms into the cheering football field.

It was dressed entirely in Blackhawk colours and bathed in a fluorescent, sickeningly pale light that you had to now spend an hour and a half in. Ugh.

Whiplash or not, you were about to throw up.

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You know those moments after a surreal event? When you just... sit. Stare into space and... ruminate.

You were having one of those in your car. The game had ended, really well, too, with the Blackhawks winning by a landslide. Your windshield had never held such secrets before. You stared through it.

Knock. Knock. Knock. Bang.

You turned. Nate Jacobs' fist fell on your window more times than you thought was necessary. 'Unlock the door, Y/N.'

You shook your head. Not a fucking chance in hell.

"'Y/N, don't be difficult, unlock the fucking door."

Something in you told you that that would be the worst mistake of your entire life.

"I'm sorry, I just want to talk, yeah?"

You had no idea if he deliberately made it a point to rest his bandaged palm on the window in full display to manipulate you, or if it was just a coincidence.

Just a coincidence, right?

You sighed, nodding your head in the direction of the passenger's seat as you unlocked it. Stupid, stupid, stupid.

He slid in, grinning as he shut the door.

"You catch the touchdown?"

"Yeah. I did."

"What'd you think? Smoothest match yet?"

"Sure."

His grin gave way to a lour as he scoffed. "Why are you so cold? Our school won."

"Why am I so cold? Why am I so cold? You asshole, you just cut yourself to make me show up!"

"Because you didn't show up when I asked nicely!"

"You're a psychopath." The effect of this word on him was oddly intriguing. He seemed to both be offended by it and seemed to get off on it.

"Can I just explain?", he sighed, sucking on his teeth for a moment as he watched other students, cheering, whistling, hooting and drinking, through your windshield.

You gestured at him to continue. He wasn't worthy enough of your words.

"You know athletes have...", he trailed off, searching desperately for the right word of vindication.

"Small dicks?"

"Okay, deserved.", he muttered, rolling his eyes. "Look, we have, like... superstitions, sometimes. For luck."

"Like the hooking up thing."

"How do you know about that?"

"McKay told me."

He scoffed, shaking his head as if his friend had divulged the biggest secret, as if he had broken some moral code.

"Alright, fine, whatever. But, uh, I pretend like it's not something I do, but I kinda have them too."

If he was about to say what he was going to, you were about to press into the wound just to watch him bleed again. How dare he.

"My, um, my first game, I bumped into you on my way to the locker rooms.", he admitted, clearing his throat as if to clear space for whatever he was going to say - because it was so obviously the solution to String Theory, like he was making it out to be.

But oh, shit. He actually was going to say it.

"And we won. The next game, I did the same again, by accident. Y'know, just, this time, I fist-bumped you."

"When the fuck did you-"

"You were drunk, and you were cheering all of us on with your friends. You went for McKay's fist, but I did it instead. Uh, yeah, anyway. So, from the... maybe fourth? Yeah, the fourth game, I made it a point to at least brush my arm past you. Haven't lost a game since."

Your touch was his good luck charm? Was he clinically insane? Or was he just a massive loser?

"What's next? Our rising signs are aligned?"

"It's not a fucking joke, Y/N!", he snapped, his fist clenching.

"Really? Because it's pretty fucking hilarious."

"You know how hard it was for me to even admit I had superstitions, let alone about some random nobody girl I've never even talked to?"

No, no, he was not trying to make you feel bad, no goddamn way.

"You know how hard it was for me to see some random nobody guy bleeding out because of me?"

"It wasn't that deep." The pun was intended. It was so evidently intended that you wanted to slap the smirk off his lips.

"Yeah, okay, get out."

"Okay. You better show up to the next one, babygirl, or I'll have to take more drastic measures."

The audacious son of a bitch ruffled your hair and winked before he left.

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"C'mon, Y/N, don't be a cunt. Just do it. High five me. Fist bump me. Hug me. Whatever. Just do it, I've got a game to get to. And... everyone's watching."

The very next weekend, there was another game. Last game of the season. And you were supposed to be there, of course, because Nate's 'entire life depended on it.' And what's worse? He'd dragged you there, from your internship.

That's right. He'd basically come to your place of work, interrupted a conversation with your boss, and tugged you along with him because of his borderline insane obsession with having to touch you for luck.

He could have gotten away with it, too, if his 'good luck charm' theory hadn't involved you having to make contact with him right before the game.

And now you were out there on the field. Backing away from him. Refusing.

"Y/N, please."

"Fine."

You slapped him across the face, as hard as you possibly could.

The entire football field gasped.

He'd fucked up your week with the picture of the blade carving into his skin, and now, he was fucking up your career by costing you your internship. And what's worse, he didn't even care.

"Go. Play now."

He clenched his jaw, closing his eyes to suppress his rage before he opened them again. "That's not how it works. It has to be mutual. Like a fist bump. Or bumping into each other."

"Oh, okay.", you shrugged, grabbing his wrist before using it to uppercut him. "NOW go. PLAY."

You didn't know if you were being 'whoo'd or 'boo'd by the crowd, but at this point, the only thing you could hear was the red hot fury in your boiling blood.

He bit his lip as you let go of his hand, and before he jogged out onto the field, you could have sworn he said something that, if you'd heard it right, could cut through your entire soul and ruin your self-perception for years - something absolutely, shatteringly degrading.

You hoped you'd heard wrong.

Taking your seat in the stands, you scrolled on your phone, ignoring the entire fucking game. As expected, text from your team leader.

Gone. Internship gone. LoR gone. Nate Jacobs? About to be gone.

-------

He won.

He. Fucking. Won.

And that smirk that he gave you before blowing you a kiss that immediately morphed into flipping you the bird made you want to genuinely ask him to recreate that video once again.

You hated yourself for it, but yes.

You wanted him dead.

All the trauma he'd given you the past week couldn't be left unpunished.

Oh, to knock him off his pedestal. OH, to be the one to make him scream in pain instead of arrogant mirth.

"Whoo! Nate FUCKING Jacobs, baby!", he cheered in your ear as you gritted your teeth, walking back to your car. "And, of course, you."

You threw your bags into your car, ignoring him as you get in, starting the engine. He thumped on the hood of the car. "Come on, you can't still be mad! Your boss was looking down your shirt, anyway!"

"Oh, and I'm supposed to believe you did this out of the goodness of your heart?", you scoffed.

"That's right, baby, chivalry ain't dead."

"No, but you're about to be. Get the fuck out of my way."

"Hey, I need a ride. Gimme a lift."

"No chance in hell, Jacobs."

"Stop wounding me. Let me in."

"Or what?"

"I'll break your window.", he shrugged, casually. Normal things. The sun will rise tomorrow. Seasons will change. He'll break your window.

"I wouldn't be letting you in if I didn't think you were psychotic enough to actually do that."

He chuckled, sitting as he rested his duffel bag on his lap. A couple moments later, he looked up at you. "What? What are you waiting for?"

"Tell me where to go."

"You don't know where I live?"

"Okay, let me explain this to you, slowly. I didn't know jackshit about you till, like, a week ago. I didn't know your age or what kind of car you drove, or even what classes we shared, much less where the hell you live!"

"All this shit just proves that you don't observe people around you. You only care about yourself."

"If I only cared about myself, you'd have bled out last week."

He sighed playfully, resting his feet on your dashboard because he very evidently knew you would have a neurotic breakdown. "I, for one, know your age, the kind of car you drive, all the classes you have, plus your favourite colour and food."

"The first two are moot.", you replied, ignoring his silent mockery of the word 'moot'. "Next, you know I'm in all of Maddy's classes. And the rest you can find on my account. Account stalker."

"Account stalker. God, sweetheart, you're such a child. You don't want your account stalked, don't have a public one."

"I barely even post anything!"

"Oh, yeah, what about last month?"

He was looking at your profile last month? "I'd gone to France. It was a photo dump."

"It was unnecessary."

"Okay, you know what this is?"

He raised a brow.

"This is post-game audacity, is what I call it. You won. You're Mr. Big Shot, so you think you can just-"

And that's when Nate Jacobs kissed you.

To call it the worst fucking moment of your life would be a massive understatement. "Drive."

"You did not just fucking kiss me."

"You want me to do it again?"

"NO."

"Then drive."

This motherfucking bastard of a man!

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"You wanna come in?"

No way in hell were you going into Nate Jacobs' house. Especially when there was a party going strong.

"I'm good."

He rolled his eyes, his arm leaning on the top of the window as he leaned in. "I don't bite. Initially."

"Ooh, you don't bite initially, oh, please let me come in right now! Shut up and get in, Jacobs."

"You've earned the right to call me Nate. Congrats. Begin using it."

"Why? We're never talking after this."

He scoff-snickered. "Oh. OH, so that's how it is.", he nodded, amused.

"Yeah, yeah, that's how it is."

He guffawed, banging on the hood of your car. "This ain't funny anymore. Come in."

"What? No."

"Is there really only one way to ask you to do something?"

"No, Jacobs, don't you dar-"

But he didn't listen. When did he ever? His fingers emerged from his pocket with his knife in tow. NOT AGAIN. This was the most cunning, calculating, manipulative, Machiavellian-

"I'm cutting. This time, my wrist."

"You're so fucking dumb, y'know that? You're psychopathic."

The grin on his face showed that you were wrong. He wasn't offended. He was 100% getting off on it.

Drops of blood reached the floor, and you realized you couldn't just drive off and leave this guy here - he'd probably still be cutting just to prove a point.

"I hope you die.", you mumbled, getting out of your car and slamming the door.

"I'm trying, dude!", he laughed, pointing at his wrist. Oh, this sick bastard.

"Not dressing that wound?"

"C'mon, blood is sexy. Badass."

Nate Jacobs was about to see how 'badass' blood could really get.

And when you were done beating the everloving shit out of him, you kissed him. Because he deserved to know how infuriating that shit was, too.

The next day at school, it was normal. You didn't acknowledge him, and he didn't acknowledge you.He didn't seem to care about the fact that you hit him so hard he almost had a concussion. An average social media interaction. Good.

How it should be.

But then he texted you.

Fuck.

#nate euphoria #euphoria x reader #euphoria #nate jacobs x y/n #nate jacobs x you #nate jacobs #nate jacobs x reader #nate jacobs fic #nate jacobs fanfic #euphoria fic #euphoria imagine #nate jacobs imagine #euphoria x you #nate jacobs fluff #euphoria fluff #euphoria dialogue #nate jacobs blurb #nate jacobs imagines #nate jacobs oneshot #nate jacobs hc #nate jacobs drabble #nate jacobs fanfiction #euphoria smut #nate jacobs smut

[robodoggiez]

🐱Another thing i did months ago😠

#unikitty #master frown #fanart #art #robodoggiez #my art #animation #meme #shitpost #that one spiderman meme #i did this one holy friday in less than an hour #enjoy #nya

[glacialmaples-pkmn]

I love having to blow my nose every 20 minutes cause it doesn't all want to come out at the same time /s

I've been feeling like crap since Friday when I woke up and felt like I swallowed an entire desert in my sleep that only the oasis of 12 water bottles could begin to dream of mildly soothing the discomfort of having the sahara invading my lungs

#/s means sarcasm right? #I swear people make new things every week and somehow everybody already knows what it means #anyways I haven't slept in 18? 20? hours? #and I was already running off of 1 hr of sleep cause my nose didn't want to stop leaking the previous night #I'm tired I wanna sleep but my nose and frankly my entire body says no #I have a feeling that my lack of sleep is gonna continue till Saturday or Sunday #I know other people get less than 8hrs of sleep and can function normally #but I have never been able to do that and I am not looking forward to the rest of my week #honestly tho I am feeling much better than I did on Friday #but holy crap do I hate being sick like this #if there has to be one good side to this my cramps this month are nearly non existent?? #so at least I'm not dealing with that pain on top of everything else?????

[seethesin]

peace and quiet

pairing: Villanelle x Assassin!F!Reader

tags/warnings: sexual content, car sex, dirty talk, fingering, edging (18+, mdni)

a/n: bet ya didn't see this coming 😏 truthfully, i've had this scenario on my mind for about a month now. i had to write this before i got through the rest of my drafts. im also a bottom!villanelle fan oops enjoy! gif credit.

The last way you wanted to spend your Friday evening was stuck in a Ford Fiesta with the world's most infuriating assassin, Villanelle. But here you both were, cramped and cranky as you wasted hours watching a man go through his nightly routine. Truthfully, you didn't know much about your target except his name, James Fitzgerald. His dossier was light and you suspected that further information wasn't yours to know.

As your handler would say: the less you knew, the better.

Silently, you watched as James moved from room to room in his home; starting in his bedroom, wandering into the kitchen, and finally, settling into the living room. Couldn't the Twelve have a vendetta against someone more interesting?

The blonde next to you must have thought the same thing. Immediately, she turned the radio on, flicking through the stations until she hummed in approval.

"Oh, I love Britney," she muses, beginning to sing along to the chorus of Womanizer as it pumps through the car's surround sound system.

You refrain from groaning.

"Villanelle, I need you to stop." Your voice is strained as your eyes are trained in front of you.

She's completely off-key but sings without a care in the world. Obviously, she's ignoring you and you exhale slowly, squeezing your eyes shut. Villanelle was good at what she did. Great even. But her hyperactive nature and flair for dramatics made you dread any time the two of you had to work together.

It wasn't just her obnoxious nature that made it so difficult for you to work with her. From the outlandish yet stylish outfits she donned to the way she held herself on and off the job, you thought she was stunning. But now, being in such close quarters only seemed to intensify those feelings. Your stomach did somersaults at each pesky thought, unable to get them out of your head quick enough. Entertaining those ideas was a distraction you couldn't afford.

Not in this line of work.

It's just one mission, you find yourself thinking, blinking your eyes open. I just need to get through one mission with her and then—

And then you will work with her again when the Twelve will it. You will still have these terribly ridiculous feelings that you will, once again, have to dissect like you are now. You grit your teeth and instead focus your boring gaze on James Fitzgerald's wrinkled forehead.

Wordlessly, you turn the radio knob towards you, muting the music so you can focus. Villanelle's contralto voice cuts through the silence like a blade and it takes her a few moments to realize what you've done.

"Hey! I was having fun!"

You roll your eyes, tapping your fingertips against the steering wheel.

"I wasn't."

Villanelle scoffs, feigning offense before leaning back. Aggressively, she adjusts her seat, allowing it to fully recline. She lays down, eyes glued to the car ceiling before crossing her arms over her chest petulantly.

You were ready to further accentuate her childishness as she muttered about how you were a 'party pooper,' but paused. James was getting up and walking towards his front door. He was letting someone inside, holy shit! This needed to be documented.

In the dark, you felt for your phone that was supposed to be on the console. Miscalculating, you reached over farther than necessary and instead grabbed—

Villanelle gasped, body arching forward.

Oh.

Your fingers gripped the flesh of her inner thigh, dangerously close to the hem of her shift dress. Blush immediately crawls over your cheeks and you become a stammering mess.

"Oh my god," you ramble, going to remove your hand. "I'm so sorry, Villanelle. I thought that—"

You don't get to finish your sentence. Her hand is over yours and she shoves your palm in between her legs. The wet cotton of her underwear greets your fingers and the heat it emits makes you flatline.

This wasn't real. None of this could be real.

"I know how you look at me."

The statement throws you off kilter and you gape like a fish. Were you that obvious? The idea makes you nauseous; how the hell did Villanelle know your feelings better than you could even comprehend them?

"Stop thinking," she husks and her confidence seems to spread to you like wildfire.

James Fitzgerald and his unannounced guest are long forgotten as you shift in your seat, turning to face Villanelle. Your finger pads inquisitively drag up the length of her clothed slit. Her breathing grows heavier the closer you stroke towards her clit. You can make out her teeth digging into her lower lip and the mischievous glint in her eyes as she stares back at you.

She’s begging you to keep her entertained.

Cautiously, you pull your hand away. The loss of contact squeezes a whimper from her throat, but it dies as she watches you slip two fingers between your lips. You suck slowly, refusing to break eye contact with her before releasing them with a soft pop. You don’t miss the way her tongue darts out to wet her lips.

“Are you going to behave?” Villanelle nods like a bobblehead, practically rutting her body closer to where your hand used to be.

You chuckle. “Good girl.”

Wet fingers glide up her bare leg, meeting at the junction just below her thigh and cunt. Gently, your fingers worm underneath the waistband of her underwear. Painfully slow, you tug them down so that they pool at her knees. They are soaked and the sound of the blonde’s panting is amplified in the enclosed quiet of the car.

"Oh baby," you taunt, watching as she presses her thighs together. You want to swallow her whole.

"Is this all for me?"

"Yes," she sighs out instantaneously, parting her legs as your hand connects back to her cunt.

Your middle finger delicately slides through Villanelle's folds, exploring her velvety flesh. Tracing circles around her labia, you finally brush just underneath her clit. She jerks forward, desperately chasing your touch.

"Villanelle." Her name is a warning on your tongue, tutting gently as you watch her squirm. Your middle finger is fixed in the same position and her fingers curl around your wrist.

"Be nice," she pleads and no matter what your plan was initially, you couldn't deny her further. You nod and gently, your middle finger sinks inside her.

Villanelle tenses momentarily, adjusting to the intrusion before relaxing. She squeezes your wrist, silently goading you to move. You comply, thrusting deeper inside of her.

Your finger moves leisurely at first, more so to savor the first-time feeling of her silky flesh enveloping you. Gradually, you pick up the pace. Her slick drools down the length of your finger and the obscene squelching makes you blush.

Thank god for the dark.

A stream of moans bubbles from Villanelle's throat as her fingernails dig into your wrist. Her other hand moves to her lips, her teeth sinking into the knuckle of her index finger to muffle herself. In response, your finger curls inside of her. She keens, her eyes rolling back as she shoves her hips forward.

"Don't do that," you chide, pumping against the spongy walls of her cunt. "I want everyone to hear how good I'm gonna fuck you."

Her gaze peeks through her lashes, blinking in surprise at the vulgarity of your statement. She's beautifully flushed and the image is seared into your mind. Your ring finger presses inside of her and she gasps, finally removing her hand from her mouth.

"Don't be mean," Villanelle mewls and you can't stop the smile tugging at your lips.

By now, the windows have fogged over in the car. The air between you has risen at least ten degrees higher and you match Villanelle's ragged panting, hyperfocused on every expression she makes. Her hair fans out like a golden halo, illuminating her furrowed brows and parted lips. You want to kiss her, but you instead settle for swiping your thumb across her clit.

Villanelle's chest heaves when you suddenly piston your fingers inside her. She sloppily pushes down to meet your thrusts while her head lolls back against the car seat. By the way her walls fluttered against your sheathed digits, you knew her orgasm was imminent.

James Fitzgerald's departure was also imminent.

Suddenly, the flash of headlights appears in your peripheral vision. A midsized sedan rushes past the front of your rental car. James is driving while his guest in question is in the passenger seat. Your eyes go wide; the memory of exactly why you and Villanelle were here to begin with hits you like a truck.

You withdraw your fingers from Villanelle's pussy and she cries out in both confusion and frustration. Scrambling, she pulls the seat back up so she can properly glower at you.

"What the fuck?" She yells, softening only slightly as she watches you suck your fingers clean before putting the car in drive.

"It's James," you start, pressing the defogger button near the bottom of the dashboard. "I'm gonna tail him."

"I was about to cum!"

You glance at Villanelle quickly as she complains, tossing a cocky smirk in her direction.

"I guess you'll just have to wait then."

#villanelle #villanelle x reader #villanelle x you #villanelle smut #villanelle imagine #oksana astankova #oksana astankova x reader #killing eve #lesbian #wlw #lgbtq #smut #fanfiction #fanfic

[autisticlancemcclain]

fic rec friday 50

hello and welcome to fic rec friday! where, on friday, i rec five of my favourite fics.

you've got to take a chance on something, sometime by spirkylurkey

Lance McClain is the office secretary. Salesman Keith is smitten, but Lance is dating Lotor from Corporate. (An Office AU in which I just TORTURE PINING KEITH)

I LOVE THIS FIC. im not generally huge on office aus, but i LOVE this one. messy gay love triangles, GNC lance, and pining keith being the one who shows UP. god i love them. and keith. just so goddamn badly. he is loyalty personified.

2. Something Borrowed, Something Blue, by @shyfoxes

Keith asks Shiro to help him make Lance a betrothal necklace. The results are less than stellar, but that’s okay. ATLA AU.

atla au!!! proposal fic!!! 2016 fic!!! dorky broganes!!!! this fic is so fucking cute. also this line: "He stepped aside to let Keith in then swiftly kicked him in the behind as revenge." is siblings at the core of them truly

3. Kitten Sneezes by @tomminowrites

Imagine: Keith’s kitten sneezes - The Red paladin wiggles his face desperately, trying to cram the sneeze back down to the depths. Instead, the feeling just crescendos, until… “ha-tchu!” There’s a beat of silence. Then Hunk and Lance are cooing into the mics with an infuriating awwwwwww.

keith having kitten sneezes is so goddamn funny to me. like here is this gruff guy who is awkward but does his best and is also obsessed with knives. and when he sneezes it sounds like a cat. ALSO. lance calls keith kitten in this

4. to tell the truth by @tomminowrites

Other than a few scuffs on his armor, Lance looks unharmed - but he just stares stupidly at the Red paladin’s outstretched hand instead of trying to rise. Keith leans closer. “The fight’s still on, you coming?” Lance looks up suddenly. “Dude you… you have really beautiful eyes, did you know that? I feel like nobody has told you that.” Uhhhhhhh. -- Lance is hit with a truth serum, and his unintended honesty hour will continue until Voltron finds the cure planet-side. Keith, meanwhile, can't shake off the part where Lance is... flirting? With him??

this is the only truth serum fic ive ever really liked bc it's super respectul u know?? doesn't rly feel like it's crossing boundaries. just sweet and funny. lance flirting with keith like its fact is so real

5. Starsong by @tomminowrites

The paladins are crewmates aboard a mercenary space vessel, sent to the outer reaches of the system to investigate the recent disappearance of Empire ships. Keith discovers that the ship's captain, Sendak, has actually been hired to capture a different prize: mermaids. With siren calls that interfere with ship scanners and songs that mimic the distress beacons of friendly crafts, astral mermaids are a threat commonly believed to be myth among most spacefarers. But when lives are at stake, the crew is soon to discover that one among them is not quite as human as he appears to be...

i feel like there's NO way i havent recced this before but onward regardless!!! this fic has the COOLEST premise ever like holy shit. mermaids?? who SWIM in SPACE?? among the STARS??? LIKE???and in an au with an atlantis like crew??? SIGN ME UP

that’s it for today!! i’ll see y’all back next friday for the next fic rec post!!!

#i love that last one so bad its so cool #vld #voltron #lance #lance mcclain #keith #keith kogane #klance #bamf lance #soft klance #broganes #fic rec #fic rec friday #longpost

[nonbinaryeggrolls]

Sweet Holy Honey pt. 4

Pt. 1, Pt. 2, Pt. 3, Pt. 4

Nanami Kento x POC!Reader

Synopsis: To keep up with bills you take up a part time job as a stripper/waitress at a gentlemans club in downtown Kyoto under the stage name "Honey". Most days you have to deal with your perverted boss, slobby and drunk old dudes, bachelors, ceos, and college assholes, but every now and then the special customer comes in. He wears a neat beige suit, blue button up shirt, and an unforgettable cougar print tie.

Warnings: SMUT, angst, emotional and physical abuse, cussing, drug use, slight yandere behavior but Nanami isn’t dangerous or violent towards Y/N just obsessed

A/N: This is a normal AU where Nanami and the rest of the JJK characters just have regular jobs/lives

A/N: Just a little note, when you see Y/N and other girls names being italicised it means it's not their real name, it's their stripper name

MINORS DNI. AGELESS AND MINOR BLOGS WILL BE BLOCKED

A/N: just a reminder, yandere and obsessive type situations should not be idealized in real life. in the next few chapters we will learn how Nanami knows Y/N so well, it involves events of stalking before meeting her at the bunny room. this story is purely for the sake of entertainment but you should NEVER tolerate something like this in the real world. protect yourself and recognize when a person is becoming too much or possibly dangerous.

What did he say?

You swear your hearing was damaged in some way, perhaps from the prolonged exposure to obnoxious club music, but your hearing was perfectly fine. The man you’d only gotten to know in passing glances, who’s name you haven’t even learned…asked you to leave with him.

Nanami: “I make money…a lot of it. I swear can give you everything you want in life, I promise I won’t— SWAT!

And just like that as quickly as they fell down, your walls built themselves back up and closed you off. You smacked Nanamis hand away as he was reaching to wipe the tear stains from your puffy cheeks, the lines in your forehead scrunched as you tried to fight back another mental breakdown.

Honey: “I said I have to go!” You whimpered, “I’ll never— I don’t want— just— uggh!” You’re palms smacked against the sides of your head, maybe doing so would rearrange the jumble of words into an order that made sense…but nothing made sense to you or Nanami. He watched in confusion, what was so hard about this? The life you currently lived was less than satisfactory if you went with him he could give everything you always wanted. What was holding you back?

Honey: “D-Don’t ever come back here, p-please. I won’t dance for you and I’ll make sure the other girls don’t either! No matter how much you pay, so stop wasting your e-efforts! Just leave me alone you fucking weirdo!” You wailed with both anger and confusion before taking off in a direction that didn’t even lead towards your apartment, only doing so to leave Nanamis sight as soon as possible. And once again he was alone. It seemed to be a reoccurring situation for him

The month went by as usual

Lowlifes and annoying frat boys popping in and out, the occasional suburban husbands spending they’re money they shouldn’t be spending it at, last Friday Bubblegum swore up and down that Chris Evans was one of her late night clients but no one can trust a damn thing that girl says. Overall it was the typical customers you’d usually see lurking around at 1 am. Everything was the same

Except there was no sign of Nanami

Of course you didn’t miss him though. Having him gone was just one less stress on your endless checklist, you were glad he finally took the hint and stopped giving you attention. Stopped making you feel a strange since if excitement every Wednesday night and a small feeling of anticipation every other weekday. A feeling like you mattered to someone in this world even if it was just a little bit…

No. You hated that man. At least that’s what you repeated to yourself in the club mirror every other hour whenever he popped into your head. Unfortunately you’ve never been the best at lying

Kota: “HONEY! Hurry up in here you have a special request!” He said barging through the bathroom door

Y/N: “FUCKING KNOCK KOTA WHAT IF I WAS FUCKING NAKED?!” you screamed at the scrawny man

Kota: “Yeah as if people like you care about being seen naked. ROOM 6 NOW!” He dragged you by your upper arm through the open lobby without even giving you a chance to adjust the top part of your bodysuit. Kota pushed you through the velvet curtain as you cradled your bare chest in your arms. Immediately you turned around and assured the customer you’d be ready in just a second, you cursed and fumbled to get your back zipper up before he spoke

Nanami: “Do you need some help?” A familiar silky voice filled your senses and made you still, “Your zipper is stuck in your hair, here let me—

Y/N: “I can fix it myself dude!” You ripped out the strands of hair that were logged in the zipper and tried to close up the rest of your latex ensemble only for it to get stuck again. You frantically tugged and pulled in the zipper until a pair of soft hands replaced yours on suit

Nanami: “Forcing it won’t help, just let me do it before you rip more hair out of your head”, He fiddled with the suit in a far more patient and gentle manner than you were.

Y/N: “You suck at listening, I told you I wasn’t gonna dance for you anymore. Why are you even here?”

Nanami: “Like you said I’m a bad listener and because…I meant what I said to you, I think you should leave this place. It’s filthy and vulgar, it’s no place for any woman to make a living at. Especially you” he managed to zip up your suit but you still remained turned away from him as he spoke, “…Im obsessed with you Honey we can both see that, but by that I don’t mean I want you to belong to me, I want you to belong with me.”

He ached to touch you, to hold you but he held himself back. The last thing he wanted to do was frighten you anymore than you already were

Nanami turned you around, blush painted on both cheeks of your face when he looked at you.

Nanami: “My offer still stands”, he reached in his jacket pocket and pulled out a small piece of folded paper, “This is my address, Come by tonight if you can. If you don’t, I’ll understand and I promise you won’t hear from me ever again.” He whispered, still keeping a safe distance to assure you weren’t pressured or intimidated

He folded the piece of paper into your hand, put back on his beige jacket, and left without another word

You let out a large exhale you didn’t know you were holding back

Y/N: “………..the fuck was that—

Midnight: “Knock Knock! Sorry to interrupt but do you have a lighter by any ch— you good girl? You look like you just shit yourself, what happened?”

Midnight: “Please tell me you’re not really going in there,” you both sat in the parking lot of the Hosu Loft Apartment Complex, “You picked a terrible place to get killed, a man with this much money is gonna have some A+ lawyers. He’ll probably get off with just community service”.

Y/N: “Would you shut up! I’m already nervous Yui!”

You got out after saying your goodbyes to Yui, but not before turning on your location and placing an AirTag inside your purse for extra safety. You headed towards the the front entrance, if the outside wasn’t already an indication of how upscale this place was then the lobby sure was. The eccentric water feature and diamond chandelier had to be worth more than everything you’ve purchased in your entire lifetime. You wondered to yourself how on earth anyone can make such money to live in a place like this, what kind of job does this man have?

Surgeon?

Yakuza weapons dealer?!!

Your intrusive thoughts panicked you and almost made you want to retreat but unknowingly you were already at his apartment door, you would have knocked but it appeared that the door was already unlocked so you let yourself in. It was dark inside, the moonlight peeping in through the window gave you enough vision for you to make you’re way through to the bathroom. You had been holding it in since work, you absolutely hate peeeing at their bathrooms, so you took advantage of the opportunity.

You scoffed in shock, even the bathroom was tastefully decorated. Linen hand towels and an Osaka landscape painting above the toilet. You were done admiring though,

If he isn’t awake then I might as well call Yui and go back home

You thought to yourself. You quickly finished up and wiped down the water spots you left on the sink from when you washed your hands but halted when you heard the hallway light turn on and a figure step in front of the doorway. It did cross your mind that you might be in the wrong apartment and that made your heart race with fear

Nanami: “I don’t see shoes at the doorway, manners are appreciated here”. He stated

You opened the door and stood face to face with a Nanami that looked like he had just woken up. He was shirtless with a pair of black sweatpants and hair like a birds nest. Just like always you gave an attitude to cover up how flustered you were, but it didn’t hide your beet red cheeks

Y/N: “Bite me dude. I’m still getting used to Japanese customs”, you countered, trying to remove your tightly laced converse.

Nanami: “It got so late I didn’t think you’d come by, c’mon I’ll warm you up the food I made”.

Within the next hour Nanami warmed you up a large helping of bulgogi and fried rice and a glass of lychee juice to wash it down. You spoke no words as he sat across from you, not that there weren’t any to say but because it been so long since you’ve had a meal that good, you barely took your head up away from the plate

He loved watching you indulge yourself, the way you swayed back in forth doing a little happy dance with each bite, how you let out small moans after swallowing, and how the lychee juice dribbled a little bit down your chin.

It made his cock twitch in his sweatpants

Nanami: “Full?”, you shook your head yes allowing him to take the plate to the kitchen sink

Y/N: “Thank you…” you said wiping the embarrassing amount of food off the side of your face

Nanami: “Kento…Nanami. I figure you being here means we’re on better terms now, we might as well start learning each other’s names.”

Y/N: “……..Y/N L/N, I don’t like to be called Honey outside work. It makes me feel gross” You mumbled

Nanami: “I hated saying it anyways…Y/N is a beautiful name” he replied

He made you blush of course but you were so tired of the middles school icebreaker type small talk

Y/N: “What do you want from me Nanami?”

He returned this time to a seat right beside yours

Nanami: “I’m a salaryman Y/N”, god he loved the way those letters rolled off his tongue, “I spend my days making money for those who already have it, and taking it from those who can’t afford to lose it. It’s a constant cycle of taking and quite honestly if I were to die or go missing no one would bat an eye, my company would just find another body to fill the gap. Perhaps that’s why it pays so well…”

Y/N: “Are-are you bragging right now?”

Nanami: “Not at all, you see because of what I do, because of how I live my life I have become someone with a of broken ‘a reason for living’. But there are times in my life where I feel like I gain that idea back, whether it’s through simple moments like finding the perfect bread shop, or daydreaming of Malaysia, or finding a good person. An actual good person… someone that’s always smiling even when they have no reason to.” he vented as if something like this had been weighing in his chest, waiting for the right person to release it to. Somewhere in the mist of his emotional venture you noticed a tear begin to prick from the inner corner of his eyes, unbeknownst to you it wasn’t because of sadness but because of his inability to say what he felt.

You moved in front of him on your knees, just as you did that one night at the bunny room but this time the intention behind it wasn’t lustful or sex driven, it was sentimental and moving. It felt right to grab his hand, you caressed his palm and moved it to your cheek. He swear he felt him self melt against your touch

Nanami: “Can you teach me to be a good person Y/N?” He begged

Y/N: “I’m far from good Nanami, I couldn’t teach you how to be one if I wanted to.”

Nanami: “Then we’ll learn together…”

He guided you back to his bedroom where you sunk into the softest mattress you’ve ever felt in your life, falling asleep felt effortless but you craved his warmth, more than you ever thought you would. Nanami hesitated when you motioned him over to lay beside you, scared that he might intimidate you in some way or scare you off. He couldn’t watch you run away from him, not again

Nanami: “I…I don’t want to make you uncomfortable. I think it would be best if I slept on the couch”.

Y/N: “Nanami I know what I’m doing, please just hold me”, you insisted, the dreariness in your voice made your tone soft and irresistible, Nanami practically jumped to your side but still managed to maintain most of his composure

For the first time in a long time you were allowing goodness into your life. You deserved to feel content, to feel safe in someone else’s grasp, and when Nanami cradled your body into his chest you felt just that. It wasn’t like some cliché movie where they blab on about how his heartbeat matched to the rhythm of your own, no, Nanamis had its own unique tune. And slowly felt yourself drifting to sleep to his natural lullaby

Your body intertwined so well with his. He watched as you drifted to sleep, it was so cute how your eyelids fluttered as you dreamt. Nanami felt like he could admire you all night

But Nanami was hot.

White hot

Your shea butter smell. You’re soft skin. You thick thigh that wrapped across his waist. Your groin that pushed up against his hip as you jolted in your sleep. It was pushing him to the edge. He could feel his cock harden to an unbearable amount, he’d pushed the feeling down all night but he couldn’t fight it anymore. Making sure not to wake you he slowly released himself from your grasp, only growing more restless as he looked over your beautiful figure.

He felt like he was going to keel over when he finally made it to the bathroom and freed his aching cock from his sweatpants, it already was drenched in precum. He closed his eyes and leaned back against the tile wall and began to stroke.

There you were kneeled before him again, only this time your eyes were just as rabid as his as you took every inch of him in that pretty little month. You’d be eager to please him wouldn’t you? You’d beg for his cum like a good little slut?

Nanami: “Nggh fuck Y/N…AaaaAggh”, he whispered, he stroked faster and faster. He wanted you. He wanted to ruin that cute little pussy and make you cry on his cock, screaming his name over how good it hurt when his tip kissed your cervix, until he filled you to the brim with his hot seed. You’d take it all wouldn’t you?

Fuck Kento, please more…please put it deeper! He imagined your delicate voice cracking and scratching as you begged for more of him

Nanami: “Fuck yes baby say my fucking name, fuck, fuck Y/N… I’m gonna cum.” He put in his final few pumps, this time basically fucking into his hand pretending it was your tight cunt. He groaned louder than he meant to and released all over his hand, some of it shooting onto the sink in front of him

He opened his eyes and sighed, falling back down to a reality you weren’t in. He was tired of cumming in his fist like a lonely college boy, he wanted your walls to paint his seed with. But he’d never push any idea of it on you until he thought you were ready. Nanami is not an easy person to be with; he has his faults and at times they’re too great to ignore. Would you even want him if you saw the person he could be? The aloof, pessimistic, money obsessed scumbag that he has to be everyday?

He grabbed a wash clothed and dampened it to clean up his mess before joining you back in bed. It felt like pure heaven when he felt you cling back onto his body and Nanami was able to fall asleep with you, something he’d desired for so long and was now finally coming into fruition. It was pure bliss…

Nanami: “I’m gonna fuck this up aren’t I?”, he whispered

#nanami x y/n #nanami smut #nanami x black!reader #nanami kento #jujutsu nanami #jujutsu kaisen #gojo x reader #nanami angst #jjk headcanons #jjk smut #toji fushiguro #poc reader #nanami imagine #geto suguru #megumi fushiguro #yuji itadori #jjk imagines #jjk toji #nanami x you

[frmartinshomiliesandreflections]

15th March >> Fr. Martin's Reflections / Homilies on Today's Mass Readings (Inc. John 7:1-2,10,25-30) for Friday, Fourth Week of Lent: ‘I have come from God’.

Friday, Fourth Week of Lent

Gospel (Except USA) John 7:1-2,10,25-30 They would have arrested him, but his time had not yet come.

Jesus stayed in Galilee; he could not stay in Judaea, because the Jews were out to kill him.

As the Jewish feast of Tabernacles drew near, after his brothers had left for the festival, he went up as well, but quite privately, without drawing attention to himself. Meanwhile some of the people of Jerusalem were saying, ‘Isn’t this the man they want to kill? And here he is, speaking freely, and they have nothing to say to him! Can it be true the authorities have made up their minds that he is the Christ? Yet we all know where he comes from, but when the Christ appears no one will know where he comes from.’ Then, as Jesus taught in the Temple, he cried out:

‘Yes, you know me and you know where I came from. Yet I have not come of myself: no, there is one who sent me and I really come from him, and you do not know him, but I know him because I have come from him and it was he who sent me.’

They would have arrested him then, but because his time had not yet come no one laid a hand on him.

Gospel (USA) John 7:1-2, 10, 25-30 They tried to arrest him, but his hour had not yet come.

Jesus moved about within Galilee; he did not wish to travel in Judea, because the Jews were trying to kill him. But the Jewish feast of Tabernacles was near.

But when his brothers had gone up to the feast, he himself also went up, not openly but as it were in secret.

Some of the inhabitants of Jerusalem said, “Is he not the one they are trying to kill? And look, he is speaking openly and they say nothing to him. Could the authorities have realized that he is the Christ? But we know where he is from. When the Christ comes, no one will know where he is from.” So Jesus cried out in the temple area as he was teaching and said, “You know me and also know where I am from. Yet I did not come on my own, but the one who sent me, whom you do not know, is true. I know him, because I am from him, and he sent me.” So they tried to arrest him, but no one laid a hand upon him, because his hour had not yet come.

Reflections (8)

(i) Friday, Fourth Week of Lent

In all sorts of ways, we can claim to know more than we do. This is certainly true when it comes to God and the things of God. When it comes to God, we are always seekers and searchers. What we know is always far less than what we have yet to know, because God is always beyond us. As Saint Paul says in his letter to the Romans, ‘O the depths of the riches and wisdom and knowledge of God. How unsearchable are his judgements and how inscrutable his ways’. In today’s gospel reading, people claim to know where Jesus is from, ‘We all know where he comes from’. In his reply to them, Jesus shows that they don’t really know where he comes from. They think he comes from Nazareth, which is true up to a point, but, in reality, he comes from God. As Jesus says, ‘I have come from God and it was he who sent me’. They thought they knew Jesus better than they actually knew him. When it comes to Jesus, we are all seekers and searchers, because he is God in human form. The Lord knows us through and through, but we will only know him as he knows us in eternity, when we will see him face to face. In this life we are always on a journey when it comes to Jesus. Again as Saint Paul says in another of his letters, his first letter to the Corinthians, ‘Now we see as in a mirror, dimly… Now I know only in part’. Yet, the risen Lord is always calling on us to know him more fully. He keeps saying to us what he said to the disciples of John the Baptist, ‘Come and see’. We spend our whole lives responding to that invitation, setting out on that wonderful journey of discovery.

And/Or

(ii) Friday, Fourth Week of Lent

It is just over a week now to the beginning of Holy Week, the week when we remember the events of Jesus’ life, death and resurrection. The gospel readings are beginning to have a more ominous tone. In this morning’s gospel reading we hear of Jesus’ enemies who want to arrest him and are out to kill him. There are others in the gospel reading who are not hostile to him but they claim to know him when in reality they do not know him. They say about Jesus, ‘We all know where he comes from’. By that they mean that they know he is from Nazareth in Galilee. However, Jesus reminds them that they do not really know where he comes from, because he doesn’t just come from Nazareth. He comes from God and those who claim to know where he comes from are not aware of that. Jesus says to them, ‘There is one who sent me and I really come from him, and you do not know him’. There is much more for them to know about Jesus than they realize. It is the same for all of us. There is always more to Jesus than we realize. When it comes to the Lord we are always seekers. We may know him to some degree but there is always so much more to Jesus that we do not know than we know. In one of his letters Paul prays that we would ‘know the love of Christ that surpasses knowledge’. There is a love to Jesus that cannot be fully grasped by the human heart or mind. As Paul says elsewhere, now we see as in a mirror dimly; it is only in eternity that we will see the Lord face to face and know him as he knows us. In the meantime we are on this wonderful voyage of discovery in his regard.

And/Or

(iii) Friday, Fourth Week of Lent

As we approach Holy Week the gospel readings have more of an ominous tone to them. Jesus is spoken of in this morning’s gospel reading as the man they want to kill. Yet, in spite of that, Jesus is described as ‘speaking freely’. The gospel reading suggests that Jesus did not allow the hostility of some people towards him to deter him from doing what he had been sent to do. Twice in that gospel reading Jesus speaks of himself as having come from God and of God as having sent him. Jesus was faithful to his God-given mission, even when that mission made people very hostile towards him. Jesus teaches us to be faithful to our own calling, regardless of the environment in which we find ourselves. The environment in which we live has not been all that supportive of a life of faith. We could easily get very discouraged as people of faith who are trying to grow in our relationship with Jesus. The portrait of Jesus in today’s gospel reading teaches us to keep living out our baptism as best and witnessing to the gospel even when it is difficult to do so. Just as Jesus knew the support of his heavenly Father, we will know the support of Jesus.

And/Or

(iv) Friday, Fourth Week of Lent

As we draw nearer to Holy Week, you will find that the gospel readings have a more ominous tone. Today’s gospel reading begins with the statement that Jesus could not stay in Judea, because the Jews were out to kill him. By the term ‘Jews’ John’s gospel nearly always means the Jewish religious leaders. That gospel tends to distinguish between the Jewish religious leaders and the people. In the gospel reading, it is not said that the Jewish people were out to kill him. However, they do make the following statement about Jesus, ‘We all know where he comes from’. They were saying, in effect, ‘we know that he comes from Nazareth’. Jesus, in reply, declares that he really comes from God, the one who sent him. To know that Jesus came from Nazareth falls far short of knowing who he really is. It is generally the case in John’s gospel that those who say ‘we know’ don’t really know. The evangelist is reminding us that there is always more to Jesus than we realize. When it comes to the Lord, we are always on a journey of discovery. What really matters is to keep travelling that journey, to keep striving to know him more fully.

And/Or

(v) Friday, fourth week of Lent

Sometimes we can claim to know more than we actually know. We are not humble enough in our knowing. We fail to recognize our ignorance about some issue or some person, as well as our knowledge. What we know is only a fraction of what can be known, and that is the case with every human person and every human situation. It is even more the case with matters of faith, with what pertains to God and to his Son, Jesus. In that domain above all, it is true that, in the words of Paul’s first letter to the Corinthians, ‘Now I know only in part’. In this morning’s gospel reading, the people of Jerusalem declare concerning Jesus, ‘we all know where he comes from’. They were saying that they all know that Jesus comes from Nazareth. Yet, at a deeper level they did not know where Jesus really came from. In that gospel reading, Jesus goes on to state, ‘there is one who sent me, and I really come from him, and you do not know him’. Jesus ultimately came from God his Father and not from Nazareth. The people of Jerusalem who are suspicious of him do not know God and, in that sense, do not know where Jesus came from, in spite of their claims to know. This morning’s gospel reminds us that when it comes to God and his Son Jesus, we will always be learners. There is always more to him than we realize. We constantly need the Lord to teach us. Later on in John’s gospel, from which this morning’s gospel reading comes, Jesus promises to send us the Spirit of Truth who will guide us into all the truth. If we are to come to know the Lord more fully we need to keep praying, ‘Come Holy Spirit, come Spirit of Truth’.

And/Or

(vi) Friday, Fourth Week of Lent

In the gospel reading, Jesus speaks of himself as the one whom God has sent. ‘There is one who sent me and I really came from him’. He goes on to claim that because he came from God, he knows God. ‘I know him because I have come from him and it was he who sent me’. It is only Jesus who can make the claim to know God, because it is only Jesus who, according to this fourth gospel, was with God in the beginning, who came from God to earth and who remains close to the Father’s heart while on earth. It is Jesus who is uniquely placed to make God known. ‘No one has ever seen God. It is God the only Son, who is close to the Father’s heart, who has made him known’ (Jn. 1:18). It is because Jesus is the only one who can make God fully known that he is at the centre of our faith. We all have a deep desire to see and know God. In this fourth gospel, Philip speaks for us all when he says to Jesus, ‘Lord, show us the Father, and we will be satisfied’ (Jn. 14:8). On that occasion, Jesus had to remind Philip, ‘Whoever has seen me has seen the Father’. Jesus shows us the face of God because he is God in human form. If Jesus shows us the face of God, it is above all the gospels that show us the face of Jesus. The gospels are our bread of life because there we meet Jesus who reveals the God who alone can satisfy our deepest hungers.

And/Or

(vii) Friday, Fourth Week of Lent

People often ask us where we are from. We ask others what part of the country they are from or if they live in the city what part of the city they are from. We sense that if we know where people are from, we are in possession of information that might help us to understand them. It is not surprising that people often return to where they are from, if only to visit it. They know they are getting in touch with their roots. In the gospel reading, the people of Jerusalem say of Jesus, ‘We all know where he comes from’. They were aware that he came from a very different kind of place to Jerusalem, from a small village far to the north of Jerusalem, in the region of Galilee. Jesus acknowledges that, in one sense, the people of Jerusalem know where he comes from, but, in a deeper sense, they do not know where he comes from. As Jesus declares, ‘there is one who sent me, and I really come from him, and you do not know him’. Jesus speaks as one who, ultimately, comes from God, and the people of Jerusalem do not know God as well as they think. It is as if Jesus was saying, ‘the place of upbringing does not explain who I am’. That is true of us all. We cannot be fully understood on the basis of our place of origin. It is even truer of Jesus. He was not simply the son of a carpenter from Nazareth in Galilee. He was also the Son of God. If there is more to each of us than meets the eye and ear, that is true to a much greater extent of Jesus. There is such a depth to the mystery of Jesus’ identity, that we are always only coming to know him. Part of the adventure of faith is coming to know the Lord more and more. I have always liked the prayer associated with a 13th English bishop, ‘O most merciful redeemer, friend and brother, may I know thee more clearly, love thee more dearly and follow thee more nearly, day by day’.

And/Or

(viii) Friday, Fourth Week of Lent

The Book of Wisdom from which our first reading came was written less than one hundred years before the coming of Jesus. It is probably closer to the time of Jesus than any other book of the Old Testament. In our reading, the author places a little speech on the lips of those who were hostile to people of faith, those who took their Jewish faith seriously. They begin by saying, ‘Let us lie in wait for the virtuous person’. They go on to say, ‘the very sight of him weighs our spirits down’. They conclude by declaring, ‘Let us condemn him to a shameful death’. The early church recognized in this speech a prophecy of what was to happen to Jesus. He would be condemned to a shameful death by those who could not stand the sight of him. In today’s gospel reading, we sense the growing hostility to Jesus. We are told that the Jewish authorities ‘were out to kill him’. As a result, the ordinary people of Jerusalem ask of Jesus, ‘Isn’t this the man they want to kill?’ The gospel reading ends with a reference to Jesus’ opponents wanting to arrest him. We might be tempted to ask, ‘Why such hostility towards one who is so good? Why are people plotting to kill someone who came so that everyone may have life and have it to the full?’ The phenomenon of violence towards the innocent, the just, the good, is one we will always struggle to make sense of. Goodness does not always have its reward in this life. However, the message of Jesus, and his life and death, shows us that those who keep trusting in God and remain faithful to the ways of God will experience God’s vindication. God will not ultimately abandon his faithful ones, those who are faithful to the ways of his Son whom he sent into the world for our sakes.

Fr. Martin Hogan.

[ronearoundblindly]

Nsfw

Succubus reader and steve (they are dating) she cant sleep so she visits her boyfreinds dream and have some fondue

Ok, first off, let me just say how happy it makes me that we are just straight up calling it fondue now. That's 100% what the world needs, and I personally swear that phrase became the only way Steve would mention/insinuate sex in public from that moment in 1943 and beyond.

Pure. Excellence. Thank you.

...and now for Fantasy Friday Ask (3)...I did take some liberties with the scenario leading up to the smut, and this, uh, this got dirty. No, no. I mean this. It gets filthy.

Warnings for explicit sexual content and language. MINORS DNI. So little editing that it didn't actually happen. While it's not necessary, you can read parts one and two before this one!

After the Team finds out what you are, Sam Wilson teases Steve for 'flirting with danger,' and the nickname sticks.

Of course, at every single social outing, since you and Steve are always side-by-side, Tony comes up to say hello with “Danger, Steve Rogers,” and a little nod at both of you before he chortles his obnoxious self over to the bar or cooler or…whatever he does. You don’t really care. He thinks he’s hilarious. You want to whack him across the face with your tail, but he would likely enjoy that. Weirdo.

Steve goes on missions pretty frequently, but the distance isn’t much of a problem when you can be in his dreams. Essentially, he never has to worry about coming home too exhausted to hang out with you because he can actually get rest while relaxing (or being very active) with you.

Then Steve goes on one of his longer missions and you end up having insomnia at the exact same time. Days. Fucking days. No fucking for DAYS. And you are not handling it well.

The way your power works is you need to be in a dream state, too, not fully unconscious but devoid of any other foci. You’re too antsy and twitchy and cranky to relax your way into his dreams, and if it takes hours of trying, you’ve missed his time zone window of opportunity. If you weren’t having such trouble then you could stay ready all day. You could be patient. You are patient.

But not right fucking now because for the love of all that is unholy, you are hungry and angry and lonely and tired.

Here’s the fun part about being a demonic creature: alcohol doesn’t effect you. It’s a nice thing you and Steve have in common actually, but there’s a catch.

You can get drunk. You can get absolutely shitfaced on Holy Water. Like alcohol, it burns a bit on the way down but the effect is extremely like an Asgardian liquor. Tastes just as bad, but if it’s the only thing that’ll knock you out, sign you up.

How you…uh…acquire the water is not really important, but when you get it back home and get ready to pass out, your whole body is humming with horniness. You’re gonna have to have a talk with Steve about maybe leaving an emergency food supply or…ah who are you kidding?! You’d chug that down on day one without him. Never mind.

Three flasks later and belting ‘Mr. Brightside’ at the top of your lungs, you collapse onto the floor, less than a foot from the bed. Whoops. Too bad. Momma’s gunning for a special toddy, kids. Get out of her way!

The drunken stupor doesn't follow you in dreams, but your excitement does. It's a bit like knocking at someone's door and waiting for them to answer, except most people can't refuse you entry and opening the door is just them joining the party.

You come as yourself, tail swishing to and fro frantically with your anticipation. Usually, you and Steve walk together along a beach, something a little more exotic than Coney Island, but the possibilities are endless. You don't tend to exert much influence over the setting of Steve's dreams because your boyfriend considers your comfort as much as his. You just...add props sometimes.

Lots of adjustments are required today. There's no beach, only a dark room. You can't think of any fancy stuff to populate the rest of his dream space, so Steve stands on a small bit of floor, smiling.

"Where've you been? You really don't like answering that phone I got you, huh?"

No words. Launching forward into his arms, you crawl up Steve, latching your lips onto his. He may recognize this ferocity, but something new is in store for Steve Rogers: danger.

His hand absently lifts to pet your horns, a normal, gentle, soothing gesture that you are well past the mood for.

Steve's arm is ripped back by another, and he turns, confused, to see you.

A second you. She grips tight over this strong forearm and holds it out, far away as it will stretch.

"Wha--"

A third you takes the use of his other arm with a wicked smirk.

There he is, stretched out and held still for your pleasure, and the glide of your finger burns through his clothing until it all falls to the floor in ashes.

"Stevie," you whine, "I'm soooo hungry."

He shuts his eyes while a shiver visibly races up his spine. His abs jump at your lowering touch. The other yous praise him relentlessly. He's got a bit of a good boy kink; Steve likes to be told what he's doing right, what you like about him, how he makes you happy.

All that and more falls from your lips even as you take him into your mouth.

"So thick," they say. "So heavy on our tongue."

Steve isn't struggling so much as jerking violently in response to the touch of one hand on his thigh, one hand on his hip, another on his chest, and yet another in his hair.

"Uh god, I feel you in the back of my throat," he hears from his right.

"So full of you, Stevie" from his left.

He's been lost to his thoughts--or lack thereof--up until now, and he really, really can't form a sentence now. Steve just moans your name as low as his gut allows, pumping his pelvis forward with small cries.

You know what that means. Time to focus below the belt. One hand pinched tight at the base of his cock, one cradling his sack and pulsing a mirror rhythm to your bobbing head, another hand gripping his firm ass cheek, and another sliding between them to ghost over his puckered hole, he's screaming to come.

Your two hands and mouth release him, sitting back on your haunches with your hands on your knees, the perfect supplicant. You keep your mouth open wide, tongue out, gaze locked with Steve's (if you can call the mess of begging and blue eyes before you Steve anymore).

Your sister selves take over and layer their hands around his shaft to aim his final desperate thrusts. One nice thing about dreams for you is that men produce more cum in their fantasies, so a late-night feast covers your face and neck even after a generous amount coats your mouth.

Steve gasps for air as he watches you swallow, watches your doubles trace their own fingers through his spend and bring it to their mouths, and watches all three of you lick your lips and hum in satisfaction.

"Jesus Christ," he exhales shakily, suddenly falling to his knees in front of you.

The other two have vanished. You're still collecting trails of seed from yourself to eat.

His chest heaves to catch his breath, and Steve plants his fists on the ground beside your knees, tilting his head up.

"Well," he huffs, "I hope you feel better because I sure do."

Your fingers pop out of your mouth just in time to giggle at him.

"Better not get tired on me, Rogers. I'm a girl with a good appetite."

Yeah, so...

I don't really have an excuse.

Here's my Masterlist? Comments? Screeching noises? I'm all ears. Thank you for putting up with my shame. 🙈💩🥴

#steve rogers fic #steve rogers #Fantasy Friday asks #ro answers #succubus!reader #steve rogers x reader #marvel au #steve rogers fanfiction #steve x reader #steve x you #steve rogers imagine #steve rogers fanfic #steve rogers smut #steve rogers x reader smut

[damonjuicyscock]

Lausanne- 00's Damon Albarn X Reader

Pairing: 2003 Damon Albarn X Reader

Warnings: Language, fluff, smuttyyyyy (P in V sex, unprotected sex), maybe a few spelling mistakes.

Words: 2518

Summary: This smut was requested by my dear anon, here is the plot:

“sooo my request is for 2003 damon.. there is just something about this era😩😩😩

fem reader meets damon at a hotel bar they really get well with each other and start’s to talk for hoursss and hours and they are so sweet to each other and get a little flirty.. when they go to each other’s room they realize that there rooms are next to each other.. And she was about to sleep until she hears him moaning and touching himself at the next room.. she wouldn’t do anything but the next day she meet him in the hotel buffet and they will eat breakfast with other and talk and spend the rest of the day with each other until midnight and they will be a little drunk and damon will start asking her really personal questions and then she will tell him about what she heard last night and .. you can use your imagination for the rest lol

.. sorry for my terrible English btw

I hope you like my idea x”

A/N: Hello everyone, here I am with another smut! To my other anons, I started working on your requests, they will come soon, but first another requested smut will be published and one of mines. As always, the next chapter of the New Singer will be out on Saturday, the epilogue will be published on next Wednesday with the requested smut. Then next Friday, the fanfic with 90’s Liam will start! But don’t worry, Damon won’t be far 😉

Anyway, enjoy!

November 2003, you were a 21 year old young apprentice, coming with the company you were working for, for a conference. The following days would be used to visit the area. Moreover, one of your favorite bands was in the same city as you were at the exact same moment: Blur. But sadly, you wouldn’t be able to see them live.

What you didn’t know yet was that you were staying at the same hotel as them.

At about midnight, after a boring business dinner, you ended up in the hotel’s bar. You sat and asked for a mojito. About less than two minutes after, a man arrived next to you, asking for whiskey. You didn’t notice him at first, but you kinda knew who he was.

Is this mojito good?

Not the best I drank but yeah. You answered, sipping your drink without looking at him

Where was the one you think is the best?

In a pub in London.

Well I live there, which pub is it?

You also lived in London, and it intrigued you. You faced him and you were absolutely not waiting for this. You should have recognized his voice when you heard him talk, but the topic of the dinner still was running in your head.

Holy…

Yeah?

You…You are Damon Albarn!

Yeah?

Sorry, I’m just a great fan. My name is Y/N.

Nice to meet you Y/N.

And to answer you as I also live in London, this pub is in Soho, right next to Carnaby Street.

I think I might see which one.

It’s a real pleasure to meet you. I didn’t know you were staying in this hotel. I’m a big Blur fan, I knew you were coming in town but couldn’t assist to your gig.

Oh I’m sorry for you, why couldn’t you?

Business dinner. It was so boring.

What are you working on?

I’m not really working for them. Well technically yeah because I’m their apprentice and they pay me but, this isn’t my type of thing, it’s only a traineeship to find what I really want to do with my life.

Did you find what?

No, nothing seems to fit me.

Well… maybe you’re in the wrong path? Have you any hobbies?

Oh yes, I am an actress in my spare time in a small theatre company.

Well maybe that’s what you should do?

I don’t know, I don’t think I’m good enough to become one.

Don’t say that, I’m sure you’re really talented.

Well thank you a lot! I say it again but that’s really surprising to see you there!

Damon smiled at you.

You kept talking for what seemed an hour to hour but in truth, you talked until the closing of the bar at 2 in the morning. Damon was charming. You could have waited for him to be superficial just like a big bunch of celebrities, but he wasn’t. He complimented the outfit you were wearing, trying to get flirty. Damn, he really was charming.

Can I accompany you to your room’s door?

Well I’m not risking anything but yes why not? We have to finish this topic!

You were talking about acting, Damon telling you about his acting years in school and his acting career he thought wasn’t convincing. But you saw the movies he played in and reassured him, telling he actually was a good actor and that you saw worse in your company.

You got in the elevator, still talking. And got to your floor.

Here we are… you said

You’ve gotta be kidding me! He said, bursting out laughing

His laugh was infectious, you started laughing as well

What? Why are laughing?

I’m next door!

No way!

Yeah.

Well… it’s time for me to go to sleep.

Good night then, he said kissing your hand like a gentleman

You kissed him on the cheek and entered your room.

Good night Damon!

*

After taking a nice hot shower, you went to bed. When you were just about to fall asleep, you heard male moans next door. You thought maybe you were dreaming, or that Damon was dreaming. Until you heard him moan again, hearing some wet noises with it. You put your hear against the wall. Damon was jacking off, and his moans were beyond sexy. They went straight to your core, arousing you. But this night, you did nothing more than listening and dreaming about Damon making all kind of things to you. So many things that you woke up all sweaty on the next morning.

*

After preparing yourself, you went downstairs in the hotel’s restaurant to eat your breakfast. When you arrived in front of the reception, the receptionist stopped you:

Miss Y/L/N?

Huh, yes?

Your co-workers gave me this note for you. She said, handing me the piece of paper

Thank you.

You read it. They left to visit the city without you, because you were sleeping when they did. You sighed and went towards the restaurant as you planned to do.

You chose some food to eat and when you were about to go and sit down you bumped against someone.

Watch it! You said making a face

Oh Y/N! Good morning!

Damon, hey!

Do you come here to have breakfast?

What else?

Well let’s have it together!

You smiled and nodded.

You sat together and ate breakfast, talking about your plans of the day.

My co-workers left to visit Lausanne without me, so I thought that maybe we could visit it together? You asked

Gladly! When do you want us to go?

Right after our breakfast.

Okay, I’ll just go back to my room to pick my jacket.

And me my bag.

After eating, you did what you said, and left to visit Lausanne.

Happily, you were talking a bit of French and Italian thanks to your traineeship. It would help you.

You walked on the banks of the Lake Geneva which were called the Ouchy port. You visited the medieval town, stopping once to have a drink, Visited the Notre Dame Cathedral, which had 105 stained glass windows, and most of which are original, that is: 13th century. It was built by Viollet-le-Duc, who also built Paris’s one. We went to the Place de La Palud, with its fountain which was the oldest of the city, with a statue which represents justice. Then, we spent the afternoon in the Lavaux, lying in the grass with a view of the Lake Geneva and the Alps in the background. It was a sunny day and not too cold.

I have never seen such a clear sky! You said

In Africa, I have. He answered

How is it? I’ve never been to Africa yet.

It’s beautiful, meeting tribes, people, artists, their culture, their traditions… I like it a lot. Do you like to travel?

A lot! I love discovering new cultures and traditions. I’ve already been to a lot of countries. Well a lot… I didn’t visit the whole world yet.

Where have you been to?

France, Italy, Sweden, Norway, Russia, India, Indonesia, The U.S, Canada, Mexico, huh… Mongolia…

Mongolia?

Yes. It's very fun and very rewarding. On a human level, you can't ask for more. The people are unimaginably kind and wise.

I don’t doubt it. I hope I could go there one day.

A silence took place, as you closed your eyes. Damon was looking at you, a question burning in his mind.

Would you… let me buy you dinner tonight?

Suddenly you opened your eyes, a big smile invading your lips.

Damon, I would love to!

*

It was past midnight when you got back to the hotel. You both were a little drunk, struggling to walk straight. You and Damon were holding hands to support each other so you wouldn't fall. When you arrived at your floor, you were a little sad that it was already the end of this wonderful day. But you got an idea.

Would you like to drink a little something in my room? You asked him

With pleasure. He answered smiling at you

You blushed and opened your bedroom’s door. You entered and closed the door when he entered as well.

You opened the mini bar in search of a drink that would suit you both.

There are two mini bottles of champagne, should we open these?

Let’s do it. He answered

Damon sat on the bed.

You only had normal glasses. You filled them with the sparkly liquid and you and Damon toasted to your meeting.

You had so much in common, it’s like you knew your favorite artist for at least 20 years.

You got drunker, and the atmosphere changed into something else when questions started to be asked.

And so, you didn’t tell me, do you have a boyfriend? Damon asked

Nope. But you didn’t ask me so you couldn’t know.

Indeed. Is it a choice or…?

Well… I don’t really know. I just think I don’t really attract men. I'm a bit too intellectual, maybe a bit too bossy... I don't know. I'm an independent person who likes to run her life as she likes, is interested in a lot of different subjects... you know, a lot of men prefer girls who are not very bright or who don't think too much. Not headstrong women like me.

This isn’t my case. Women like you are totally my type.

Damon Albarn, are you flirting with me? You asked, under his spell

Maybe, maybe not. Try to guess. He said winking at you

I was raised by my mom. She was a single mom, so she taught me everything.

And she was right. We need more women like you in this world.

Thank you for the compliment. We also need more men like you. You said, blushing

An awkward silence settled in. Your eyes were fixing your glass. You were too shy to look at him in the eye. You knew he would kiss you if you did.

You were less shy yesterday.

I know. It’s just… I know what you’re about to do if I look at you.

Would it bother you?

Not at all.

Then why don’t you look at me?

You only smiled. He was the one raising your head with the help of his fingers. He looked at you deeply in the eye before putting his lips on yours, in a tender kiss.

You never had been kissed like this before. It wasn’t sexual. It really was tenderness.

The kiss was slow, passionate.

Soon, his tongue asked for entrance, and you let him.

Your tongues melted together, and you laid down on your bed, Damon on top, caressing your face.

Soon your lips separated, both of you needing to catch your breath.

Damon…

What? He answered

I have something to tell you.

I’m all ears.

You know… last night… I heard you.

Oh yeah?

Yeah. It was an interesting show to ear. It was so sexy.

Did you touch yourself listening to me?

No. I wanted you to do it for me. I’m interested in hearing some more. You said kinkily

He kissed you again, the kiss becoming heated this time.

Damon started opening your blouse at the same time, curious to see some more as well.

You know… I was thinking about you when doing it. You don’t know what you did to me Y/N, you’re so damn beautiful.

You also started to take his clothes off. Soon you were both naked. Damon was huge, you didn’t know how you would take him.

His hand slipped to your womanhood, collecting your arousal, and rubbing your clit, making you whimper at the feeling.

Is it what you hoped for? He asked

No… It’s better.

He kissed you again, long and hard, before sliding two fingers inside you. He pumped them in and out, slowly at first, then faster, touching your G-spot in the process.

Goooooood Damooooon, it feels so good…

I know baby, I know. Do you want me to make you cum?

Yes… P-Please…

He kept doing what he was doing, until you felt a heat invade your stomach, indicating you were close. Damon felt it by the way your walls were clenching around his fingers and kept speeding up until it became unbearable for you.

D-D-Damon, I’m going to…

Come on sweetheart, come for me.

You felt the knot in your belly tighten and suddenly release, making you almost scream.

Damon helped you ride your high, until you were only shivers and you finally stopped it.

T-T-Too much…

He let you catch your breath for a few minutes, his hand sliding up and down his shaft, spreading the preccum on his member, preparing himself. Once you were ready again, you nodded.

He found his place on top of you again, aligning his manhood with your entrance and slowly sliding inside you, making both of you moan in unison.

He let you get adjusted to his size, and he started rolling his hips against yours, adapting a passionate pace.

You wrapped your legs around his waist, making you go deeper inside you. He started hitting your G-spot, and your nails dig in his back, making him groan.

You both wouldn’t last long. You both could feel it. You, by the way your insides were spasming around his member, and him by the way his movements were getting sloppier with each thrust.

I’m gonna cum baby… are you with me? He asked

You nodded quickly, your eyes shutting in the process

Huh huh, I want to hear you. He grunted

Yes Damon! I’m with you!

The familiar heat you previously felt when he was fingering you came back in your stomach and finally invaded your whole body.

You were clenching so hard around Damon he didn’t have the time to warn you when he came in ropes of white cum, painting your insides and groaning loudly.

You both trembled against each other, Damon hips finally coming to a stop.

He collapsed on top of you, both being out of breath.

I definitely have to give you my address so we can see each other again. You said

And I think it’s a good idea, because I really want to see you again.

If someone told me I would meet Damon Albarn in Lausanne and bond with him, I would have thought it only was a dream.

And if it was one?

Then I don’t want to wake up ever again.

#90's damon albarn #damon albarn #damon albarn smut #damon albarn x reader #damon albarn fanfic #gorillaz #britpop #blur band #dilfdamon #damon albarn oneshot #dilf damon albarn #00's damon albarn

[khaleesiofalicante]

Damn I feel like it's been forever for some reason lmao. Last week's hell is finally over and I get to relax this week! I'm going out with some friends on Friday and I've also cleared my phone and organized my notes!!! It feels so good😭 Now I have some thoughts about last chapter BECAUSE WOW

First of all fuck Mallory, I hate her and I will never get tired of saying this and I am now divided between wanting to read the next chapter so bad and dreading it with my whole being 🙂

My heart broke into a million pieces with the first part!!! Rafael's fear for Max is shown so damn well and Max's thoughts are messy and all over the place and the way you can see him moving in and out of reality is overwhelming!!

I kinda guessed the "why isn't he smiling?" part but fuck if it ripped my heart 😭😭

"Tears of grief" Max loving him so much he literally recognizes his tears and knows these ones too.... And saying he looks as if he is grieving something that was his everything, not knowing David was grieving him. Grieving them. The life they had built. Gone.

"I wanna see daddy" WHEN I TELL YOU I WAS SCREAMING INTERNALLY ON MY FLOOR!! When we first saw on the first chapters I was so confused and now that the dots connected I am in pain 😭. And you wrote that scene so beautifully, their pain and horror and how you see Max slowly losing himself because it's just too much. The pain is too much. Losing David, Lance's pain, his job, his home...

And the scene with Magnus!!! GOING TO MY FAVE COLLECTION 🥺. Also him giving the band to AJ later, because Magnus said he could give it to someone else when it hurt just a little bit less HOLY SHIT😭😭

I can go on a three hour analysis so Imma stop jdhdjdjkd. BUT THE PRESENT TOO JFC

Max's growth. That ends me everytime. Seeing how much he has changed and how he survived through all of this. Thinking of the was Alec told him how proud he is of Max because he made it. Not the way he planned. But he did it. He got so far, and that took so much strength but he still survived. Same Alec, same🥹

But also the fucking parallel:

"He was careful now (...) Just in case. Just in case he'll get his heart broken all over again."

///

Not without an explanation. Not without getting his heart broken into a million pieces one last time.

Then, just like everything else in life, things slowly got better. This whole fic is a prove of it and I can't even-

YES LANCE CALL HIS IDIOTIC SELF OUT!!! TELL HIM DAVID LOVES HIM MORE THAN LIFE ITSELF!!! I WILL NEVER GET TIRED IF HIS SASS BTW

You once said that tlnd was was about acceptance and healing, but IALS is about forgiveness, about learning to forgive the people we love, but mostly about learning to forgive ourselves (I have the receipts don't @ me) and this scene portrayed that so well. Even though Max knows it wasn't his fault he still blames himself. Because knowing is not the same as accepting it. As Max said, shit is hard to internalize.

THIS GOES TO MY TOP 10😭😭 LANCE AND MAX TALKING TO EACH OTHER IS EVERYTHING I KNEW I NEEDED FROM THE VERY START I AM SO EMOTIONAL!!! Also Lance and Max's detective skills together??? ✨ Iconic✨

Tell me how to love you as you want to be loved and I'll do it to give you the comfort and safety you deserve is something I'll never get tired of😭😭 istg I could go on a whole speech about this part because it's so true. Sometimes parents don't love us the way we want to be loved, but that doesn't mean there's no love there. It's just different of what we expect. And sometimes people go their whole lives not knowing of that love and that's just sad.

That is one unproblematic child,” Max noted. “Really doesn’t fit into this clusterfuck of a family.”

“I’m waiting for him to set Hollywood on fire,” Lance informed. “Don’t lose hope yet.”

HOLY SHIT I JUST REALIZED I'M THE ARTHUR OF MY FAMILY. WHAT DO I DO WITH THIS KNOWLEDGE???

I have so many feeling about that apartment and Harry and them but I will not unpack them bc this shit is already long enough 🙂

Their conversation. The way they've both changed so much. Talking about how they wished they were there for Lance and for each other. I was in TEARS

Everything of the last scene was *screams internally* David fucking pushing Max to the wall, stronger than hate. "He's scared of something". Fucking Mon ange, *what did Mallory do to you?"

I just want you to know I will combust into confetti or tears in the next chapter. Probably both...

Anyway this turned long and I better go. Take care and drink lots of tea!!!!

💙.💙.💙.

This made me so 😇😇😇😇 and gave me some motivation to write the next chapter 😭😭😭😭 Thank you 💚💚💚

This is Lance sleeping in Arthur’s room 🥰🥰🥰

#he cuddles all the plushies we have proof 🥰🥰🥰 #IALS

[thepoeticfox]

I self advocated, speaking up about an issue I was terrified I'd get little help on and now I'm down one tooth. Here's the story:

I've been having jaw pain for about a year. Bad enough at times I struggle to eat. Assumed it was TMJD.

I had an appt coming up for fillings. When they called with the appt reminder, I told them I've actually been having severe jaw pain and I'd like to be seen about that instead. We talked a minute, she went back to talk to the dentist, and then came back and asked if I could come in at 7am the next morning. I said yes.

Next morning, I had an x-ray on that side and found I had an abscess. Dentist gave me antibiotics and a pain killer and said I need to schedule for later the next week. He was nice about it, mind you. Even made sure I didn't have a problem with the chosen meds (I did say I don't do well with hydrocodone, he said he's glad I said that bc that's his go to and he gave me tramadol instead).

A week went by, and after half an hour waiting for numbing to numb, and three or so minutes of intense pressure, he got my tooth out. Big roots! Holy crap.

That was Friday morning. Now I'm recovering with more tramadol (as needed) and soft foods. Which means I am hungry bc those digest fast -.-

Even off the pain killers, I am already in so much less pain than I was before. So much less. My jaw aches a little but I assume that's from fighting to keep my jaw open (tooth was on the bottom).

I spoke up and got it treated. Holy hell, it got treated

[yourresidentthembo]

Okay

Just finished watching Nerdy Prudes Must Die about half an hour before writing this and here are my thoughts for those who want to hear.

Spoilers for all who haven't seen it yet!

I think it's an amazing (fucking transcendant) musical. I think it's a really good Starkid musical; but I don't think it was a great Hatchetfield musical. (Lots of critiques to come but lots of praise as well)

What I noticed is that it follows a similar formula to A Very Potter Musical and Holy Musical B@man, where the humor is the foremost element and the plot is less relevant. It more emulates AVPM in that the plot hooks get better toward the end, but it still didn't feel like as well developed a plot as TGWDLM or Black Friday.

Both the previous musicals seemed to exist on a grander scale - with the Lord's influence seen in large world-ending threats, where here we see a threat that really only exists for the highschoolers (I know Jägerman has the potential to be a worldwide problem but that idea seemed a little shoehorned in to add tension toward the end). PEIP being absent given this is especially apparent and while I don't want the musicals to feel formulaic I do miss my special agents and the big stories in the big medium would fit that nicely.

I was a little disapointed in the minimal Hatchetfield lore that was provided - given the amount they had to work with from Nightmare Time; however it is closer in magnitude to the lore the other musicals provide. (Taking into account that the musical appears to be written for those who haven't seen the Nightmare Times; there are more references than there are additions).

But on the whole it was a really cool musical! I liked it's goofier nature and it did feel like some of the older Starkid musicals but I feel like there were elements of passion in the other Hatchetfield content that were missing here (I know there was Steph and Pete and I love them dearly but I tend to view love stories seperately) that were highly apparent in the other stores (Name: Bill and Alice, Tom and Tim - sidenote I didn't notice their names were like that until right now - Lex and Hannah) and I feel like there were definately places where that could've been explored and wasn't.

The Lords in Black appearence did make me scream and it was so cool to see all of them on stage at once but it did miss the element the other two had of one Lord evoking a threat (giving the This Story Centers Around This Lord And Their Lore vibe) and making that in favour of one goofier song felt off to me, even if they did have Wiggly enact his malice (sidenote; is Grace Chasity technically a Warlock now, given her pact with a dark god?).

All-in-all, it's a good musical and you should definately watch it if you haven't already. I may well just be a Black Friday enjoyer (it's my favourite musical ever) who is nostalgic for the vibe it gave. I'm also probably conditioned to cool lore being a staple from nightmare time. I will be rewatching as many times as I can while I still have the ticket and there's definately room for my mind to change.

Love y'all, have fun going mad about this (it is absolutely insane that we got this in the first place)!!

[streetlightdiaries]

‘I’m the hero and the monster too—’

On a Monday morning, I take stock of all the stories I’ve written and the ones I haven’t. 

As you know, I’ve been wrestling with silly little life stuff, like wondering where I ultimately belong and what is really worth the fight. Monday through Friday, I wake up at 4:30am to muddle through a routine of preventative exercises; mental health mixed with spirituality. I dress by candlelight and move down the staircase in the dark, climbing into my car and driving nearly an hour with nothing to do but sit with my own thoughts and watch the melodies slide by. Here lies one of the Universe’s best kept secrets:

There is a golden hour in the morning too. 

I used to see it from a Walmart parking lot when we had to get up to sell the line at Warped Tour; the air is fresh and cool and buzzes with possibility. During early golden hour, the sky emits the same irresistible hope that you really are in the right place at the right time. That where your feet fall is where home is, all that. There’s a difference though; during early golden hour, the day is just beginning. Your big opportunity to take steps forward, to work unfailingly towards your goal, and to prove yourself is laid out before you. It’s time for immediate action. In the evenings, golden hour requires only that you drink in the hope, wear your sweaty Metallica t-shirt to bed, and try again tomorrow. Perhaps this less-toxic positivity is why the later hour receives all the celebrity. 

I always thought that the more I accomplished—the more I lived, the more I felt—the higher in estimation my family would hold me. But that has not turned out to be the case. I’ve been met with the need to grow much thicker skin—to learn how to ignore their teasing of my clothes, forgive their cheapening of my travels, and pretend my feelings aren’t hurt when they reach for their holy water at the mere mention of my tattoos. This is why we create Second Families. Not to replace, not to scorn, but to build houses made of brick, rather than prodding sticks.  

I had a dream I was on another Patent Pending music video shoot. Everything that had ever happened was a good deal in the past and any stupid thing that any of us had ever said had been laughed about before starting production. Everything was exactly as it should be and everyone was very happy—exactly where they wanted to have always been. When I woke up, the bricks to my second home read more like breadcrumbs I had dropped along the way, but I do know right where I left them. It is my experience that while you can’t always go home, you can feel that you did once have one, and I close my eyes to close the miles and years: 

I can feel a cool Midwestern breeze and smell the bulbs of burning hot stage lights. I can taste cheap cheese pizza and I can hear that car from a mile away. I will always be able to see the way he looks when he’s gotten another brilliant idea and can’t wait to ruin my day with it. My homes are preserved in airplane exhaust against a creamsicle-colored sky. 

And just remember, in these horrific times, you may rest assured that the family you’ve built is strong; your house will remain standing even if you need to rip off a brick and throw it at your nearest legislator. 

Stay sensitive, my tumbleweeds.

T. 

“Surviving the Night” Keep Flying

#writer #music #golden hour #home #homesick #dream #keep flying

[rippeanuts1950-2000]

Diary of a teenage ghost Hunter

Friday June 25th 4:00 pm My bedroom)

What does a 16 year old ghost hunter do when her parents force her to move to some weird ass town in the middle of nowhere? Find the nearest book shop of course! Joking, joking. Though that is exactly what I did as soon as my parents said I could go out. Hey, don’t judge me. The bookshop was the one thing I was looking forward to about this place and let me tell you, it was worth the wait.

The place shouldn’t even be called a shop! It should be called a book armory? No, wait, that sounds weird. A book outlet? Nope, it still doesn’t work. Whatever, I’ll figure it out later. So I went to the huge bookshop that I think used to be a Barnes & Nobles that got turned into a regular bookshop. It’s nice to know I’m supporting a small business. Small meaning it’s owned by a family and not some corporate place. Like I said, the place was huge. Anyway, I went in and spent twenty minutes just gaping at everything. It was beautiful. Filled to the brim with books and really cool knick knacks at some great prices. No joke, I bought a sketch book, some pens and pencils, a journal, some decorations for my room, and some books I’ve been wanting for a while, for under $200! I’m living the dream life honestly.

While I was there, I ran into what I could only describe as a stereotypical mean girl. I did not get her name because I ran away before she could scream at me. That happens to me way more than it should. Trouble is, I don’t know if she was a ghost or not. No one else seemed to notice her and I got a few weird looks when I screamed an apology at her. Maybe I was just too loud? Well if she wasn’t a ghost at least I don’t have to deal with her at school since mom and dad finally agreed to homeschool me. I think it was a way to get me to shut up about not wanting to hide my sexuality from people even if I get bullied. I’m a proud lesbian, I’m not hiding that part of me.

No matter how hard it is.

NOPE! DON’T GO THAT ROUTE BRAIN!

But I also won’t deal with it cause it’s summertime thank goddess.

Anyway, I love my new journal! It’s so pretty and it has cute little chibi ghosts on the cover! I cannot not wait to use it for more interesting things I find at the bookshop. Oh and write stuff about my ghost hunting. That’s also why I got it.

Obviously. 

Also my new room is really cool. Mom and Dad found this huge house for surprisingly less than a million dollars and I got the top floor all to myself. Granted, there’s only three rooms up here but Mom says I can turn the second room into an art room! Isn’t that great! Now I won’t have to go outside to make something because my parents are neat freaks and they hate messes. The room I'm in currently is my bedroom and it has all my stuff in it since Dad came up here first to set everything up while Mom and I drove down here yesterday. I still need to unpack so I should probably get started. 

Saturday June 26th 1:30 am My Closet)

Holy shit.

That’s all I have to say after what has been transpiring for the past hour and half.

I knew there was a reason why my parents got the house so cheap!

Twelve people died here.

Correction, twelve people were killed here.

TWELVE PEOPLE WERE KILLED HERE!

WHAT THE FUCK!

Look, I get that my parents want me to help in the family business and hunt ghosts so that we help them go to the other side and blah blah. Especially since I’m the only one in my family since my great great grandma who can see ghosts. But moving me into a house where the souls are still haunting it and need to go to the otherside, is taking it too far!

Okay let me start from the beginning.

It all started after I woke up at midnight. I was thirsty so I went downstairs to get a glass of water. I get my glass of water and go back to my room, knowing that I probably wouldn’t be able to go back to sleep. So I’m thinking about what book I’m gonna read or if I should watch tv on my phone again, when I see a very pretty girl with silky black hair and pale skin digging through my closet and muttering that I have too much flannel. Being the mature person that I am, I threw my water at her and screamed, “Begone intruder!” The girl just looked at me and smirked.

“I’m dead and I live here, so I’m not an intruder.” She said and that’s when I realized that the girl had gashes all over her body and her very cute outfit was covered in blood. “Why are you in my room?” I asked, not thinking what else to say. The girl snorted and floated over to me. “Because you, Cassandra Mendez, are going to help me and my cousins with our problem.” She said, placing her hands on my shoulders. Instead of feeling cold and uncomfortable like it usually does when a ghost touches me, it felt pleasantly icy and comforting. “Whoa, whoa. You know my name and I don’t know yours! That’s not fair.” I said, because all my brain cells left me when the pretty ghost girl touched me.

The girl giggled. “You’re right, that isn’t fair Cassandra. Let’s fix that, shall we? I’m Butterfly Thompson, nice to meet you.” Butterfly said and now that I could properly see her eyes, I noticed they were light green. “Butterfly, that’s an interesting name.” I said. “My parents were hippies, Cassandra.” She said as she let go of my shoulders. She went back to digging in my closet. “Cassie.” I said dumbly. Butterfly looked up, confused. “What?” She asked. “I go by Cassie, not Cassandra. Now can you tell me why you're here?” I asked, really hoping this whole thing was some dream.

“Cassie. I like that. Less of a mouthful. Anyway, I’m here to save you from the flannel nightmare that is your closet.” Butterfly said and I tried to ignore the way my stomach fluttered when she said my name. “You and I both know that’s not true.” I said exasperated. She hummed in response. “Oh but it could be. But unfortunately it’s not. At least not right now. I’m here because I need your help to prove that my family and I were murdered.” Butterfly said. I blinked at her. First of all, why me? Second of all, she was murdered? “How many people died and how did they die?” I asked, not sure what else to say.

Butterfly started counting on her fingers. “Twelve. They took out Blake and Bloom and their parents first. Stabbed Aunt Bria and Uncle Braxton I think, I was hiding in the closet with Burst so I don’t know. They pushed Blake and Bloom out the window, their deaths were immediate. Then they went after Blaze and Briar but Aunt Britnay and Uncle Ben fought back. Unfortunately, their battle was for naught as the killer somehow managed to strangle them before throwing Briar and Blaze out the window as well. They took a little longer than the other two to die. You know this guy had a thing for throwing kids out the window. Then they came to closet me and my brother were in. Mom and Dad fought as hard as they could but in the end they didn’t make it either. I don’t know how they were killed. The killer pulled me out of the closet first but unlike my cousins I fought back. They managed to get a couple gashes and hits on me before I was thrown out the window. My death was immediate. Burst’s wasn't. They died in the rose bushes, bleeding out because the killer stabbed him before throwing them out the window like everyone else.” Butterfly said, her voice monotone.

“Then why was the killer not caught?” I asked, because it sounded like a bunch of innocent people were brutally murdered here, no questions asked. Butterfly sighed and sat on my bed. “They were smart. They made it look like the adults committed suicide and that us kids fell off the roof. Even down to the fact that they made it look like Burst was impaled. But we know the truth.” She said, a bitter smile on face. “Where do I come in?” I asked and she grinned. “You’re gonna be homeschooled, it's summer, you can talk to all of us, and you can talk to our friends who are alive and help us! Together you can find a way to figure out who the killer is and why they did it so we can put their ass in jail.” Butterfly said excitedly.

“Wait us?” I asked, because I thought she was the only ghost here. She nodded vigorously. “Yes us, I was sent to talk to you before we bombroad you with everything.” She explained. “Let me think about this before I do anything.” I said. Butterfly nodded. “Okay, get back to me in the morning! Sleep well Cassie.” She said, giving me a hug before floating down somewhere. 

Well after writing this down, I know what to do. I have to help her. She didn’t deserve what happened to her and her family at all. Now I’m actually gonna go to bed because, damn, I'm tired.

#original writing #original character #original story #tw blood #tw death

[eight-twenty]

Most days in my head i am a coming of age main character in a county in Ireland; smoking cigarettes i hate, with fringe bangs too short, a mentality too mature for people my age, still swallowed by catholic guilt. And this is an entry to her diary.

This is a work of fiction—a creative exercise if you will—and I mean no disrespect to the Irish language, I admire it so much in fact. Sure I only sound more defensive saying that.

———————————

3rd Sunday of August.

Ah, today’s a Sunday, but I dodged church, blaming it on period cramps, much to me mother’s dismay. I haven’t missed it yet. Not technically as I’m writing this. Ma’s always keen on being an hour early to church. She already left. Normally she would have called out my bluff and would’ve said a homily’s worth about how the Lord only asks an hour of my day. But today she surprisingly was calm about the idea of her only daughter potentially heading to hell.

I’m feeling to knackered to practice my faith today—I haven’t been devout for long. It shouldn’t be so exhausting to sin, considering I’m less Catholic by the day. Should feel less buggered to Skip holy the Sabbath day. Bah. It’s more sin to be a hypocrite in church. If anything, I should feel less guilty about it.

I only go church to please me Ma. Sorry, God, but I reckon I worship me mother more, even if we rarely see eye to eye. We don’t necessarily fight. But we don’t also talk about boys I fancy over a cup of tea. My mother is a fucking saint. So regardless of me being a good daughter by the book (really good grades, no drugs, home by reasonable hours, hormones in control, etc.), I am always a hair out of place closer to hell in her standards. This week most especially.

Me mother found me pack of cigarettes. She did not know I’ve been smoking—at least not in her presence just yet. She found it while she was sorting my pile of clothes for laundry last Friday. I forgot I stashed one in the front pocket of my jacket. Could’ve blamed it on Madison (Ma always thought I was too good to be her friend), but I was too exhausted to lie. I feel the disappointment in her, the way she placed it on me bedside table (placed, not thrown. On the table, not garbage bin) and walked out of the room (she did not close the doors, she did not also slam it shut).

The pack is there on the table exactly the way she left it. Pretty sure there was a lighter in the pockets. Wonder what she has done with that. If she used it to burn my clothes, fair enough. But they’re drying under the sunlight outside. I’m not sure if her disappointment stems from the idea of her daughter trying to kill her self with every pack smoked or if she’s disappointed because I turned out to be just like me dad.

I don’t even like smoking because it reminds me of dad. I don’t even think it’s cool. I am not trying to be poetic about it. But I hate being stuck in social situations more, and the excuse to smoke has been my only reprieve. I guess I’d literally rather off myself than admit I hate going out with me mates. There’s a difference between hating the social situations you’re forced to be in to fit in versus hating the people. I love ‘em, but rather unfortunate or me that their idea of having fun involves a dance floor and bursting one’s eardrums out. Like me faith I guess, I do believe in a being bigger than me (than all of us), but do I really have to display it so dutifully in pews and choir songs.

I’ve been using smoke breaks as an excuse to break away from it all while still participating to be part of the gang. Disappearing without the need to declare my exit and to reappear only when I felt the need to. “Oh she’s out for a smoke.” “Oh she may not be coming back”

It started when I went out from the club because I couldn’t stand Marianne’s cousin breathing down my neck. Instead of decking him, I went out in the guise of a ‘smoke break’. Thank the lord he does not smoke—had a case of asthma I heard. Maybe I should’ve pressured him for a smoke.

I merely wanted to just give my selves a few minutes of outside air. I pretended I was looking for a pack in my empty pockets. But like some angel in disguise, a hand offered me a pack “have some” like it were a pack of gum. “Thanks” I said and it was lit up while I tried to put the stick in my mouth. Surprisingly, I did not cough up. I was actually good at it. Being good at something (even if it is smoking) is addictive.

Had a grand time in the smoker’s area. No one felt the need to talk to me, I didn’t feel obligated either. There was a communal exchange of light and the consentual exchange of poisonous air. A safe haven of people who just want to bugger off. It felt nice. Felt worth burning me lungs for this respite.

Maybe that was my church. Because church pretty much had the same aesthetic, smoke from the incense and the communal religious experience of escaping from the real world.

I pray mother knows that I’m not doing this to anger her, not specifically. But god did I feel so guilty. The 4th commandment didn’t exactly say Honor Your Mother and Father by not smoking. But it feels like it does.

Bless me mother for I have sinned, I meant for you to find me pack of smokes so you’d expect less of me and see more of me as a person who only looks like me dad but is hell-bent not to become the person he is (or was).

Ever wonder if I’d l believe in the concept of sin if I wasn’t raised catholic?

Feck this catholic guilt. No this isn’t catholic guilt. I’m not feeding more into the institution’s ego. It’s me being me ma’s good daughter. Feck it, I’m off to church.

#Spotify

[1surfrocker]

This past weekend was Labor Day, so Amy and I both had days off.

On Friday night we met George and Keisha for dinner at Long Beach Thai (food there's pretty good, btw!). Afterwards, back to ours to record George's VO reel. I set up to mics for him: My $2k Soyuz, and my $250 SD-1 mic from UA. I have to admit, that $250 UA mic is damned good. We ended up choosing that over the Soyuz because it sounded more "broadcast." Really nice lows and smooth high mids. The Soyuz was picking up too much high end detail next to it. George did a good job, all things considered, though he struggled on a couple of words: "Prahtential" instead of "potential", "risss" instead of "risks." He absolutely could not do the wacky animated character...we tried a few times, he just couldn't step outside of his own formal, overly polite vocal style. As I said to him when he was reading lines from Adventure time, "you sound too literate to be Jake!" He did a wonderful Optimus Prime though. I could see him doing audiobooks or nature documentaries if he really worked at it.

Saturday was dinner at Satdha for Sierras birthday. Amy was still feeling just a tinge of sick so we came back home immediately after dinner while our friends when to go watch Macbeth at the theatre. I was more than happy to not go with them.

Sunday we carpooled with Lisa to Bryce and Andrea's summer beach home and that's when we really let loose. Lots of magic mushrooms chocolate bars going around that weekend. There must have been a dozen a half kids there when we arrived. Thank god none of them stayed the night, as that's when the chocolates came out. I brought my bazouki, which gave our jams a nice eastern flair. I felt good about my viola playing that night too. A brand new person I'd never met named Josh told me after one of the jams, "I'm not gay or anything but I think I'm kind of in love with you." That made me chuckle. Amy says she thinks I like it when I get that kind of attention from guys, even if it's jokingly. She's probably not wrong.

We walked down to the beach that night and started to get in the water, but a riptide was pulling the wave crests apart and it wasn't safe. But we stood in the water at knee height. It was warm in the water and in the air, and a bioluminescence streaked across the water several times. I thought it was a moon reflection at first but apparently it's an organism that causes it.

Lisa insisted that everyone take a bath together naked afterward, and when Dryden took his shirt off and his girlfriend Denu saw, she got so pissed that she called an Uber to drive her all the way back to Pasadena (imagine the cost of a 1.5 hr ride!) and of course Dryden went with her. They came back the next morning with Denu's 5 year old son, and though Denu kept a fun face on for all of us, they apparently fought like holy hell and Dryden was really bent out of shape. They've only been together for less than a year and Denu still doesn't really know us all that well, so I guess on the face of sure it could appear that we were all going to fuck each other, but we're not like that, for better or worse!

We spent a few more hours at the beach the following afternoon. We met Elias who showed us around town, who I think really had a thing for Lisa. When Lisa lost an ear ring in the ocean, he spent at least 30 minutes helping her try to find it. Talk about a small needle in a giant haystack.

We arrived back home around 10:30 and finally finished the movie Pandora's Box, which only took us 5 months to watch.

One of the most fun weekends, and truly THE most fun Labor Day.