#talking
What was your favorite elementary school craft you ever did?
a person walking on the sidewalk talking on a cell phone
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wait im actually thinking of moving blogs i just want a new neat blog to post all the art i havent posted on here o-(-(
With some distance between us, my voice is authoritative, strong, low. Commanding, you might venture, depending on the context. It’s a thing to be listened to, each clipped, pronounced word. The power in it is obvious, something that can be clearly heard.
But when I’m up close, lips against your neck, breath rushing down your spine, sweet… well, they’re not nothings, really, are they? They’re words, and they’ve got their own power. An intimate sort of power, the kind that is there regardless of what the words themselves actually are. When I’m right there, I’ve got a direct line to your subconscious. Do not pass the frontal cortex, do not pay any attention to what I’m saying. Just know that I’m saying it.
Little pieces might be picked up, I’ll admit. The odd slut orcumrag might filter through into your mind when you can wrestle your attention away from the feeling of my hot breath against your neck. If you’ve got a powerful will, you might even be able to pick up the odd fragment of a sentence, the occasional I’m going to ruin… or…pin down that petulant little behind and… but the entire thing? That’s not for you. Not the you that drives you. They’re going to find a nice little home in the back of your mind.
Because proximity is a powerful thing. And never more so than when you’re already addled with desire.
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btw i did see i hit 2k followers a few days back and for the life of me i don’t understand how but woo! i have zero grasp of how many breathing people 2,000 is but i am grateful nonetheless :)
oh oh and also, i went ahead and made a personal today, @babd0y.
granted ive no idea if ill stick to it but in case anyone wants to see what’s most likely gonna be me ranting about being in love with some random stranger, my constant yearning for the moon, crying over quotes and literature in general, whatever words i manage to string together in the haze that is my brain during the late hours of 4 in the morning despite having obligations early the next day, OR if you just wanna have someone to chat with about random shit and/or leave ominous messages that read as threats in my inbox, i’m down to have you!
btw i did see i hit 2k followers a few days back and for the life of me i don’t understand how but woo! i have zero grasp of how many breathing people 2,000 is but i am grateful nonetheless :)
I got the book!!! I’ve just started to read through it. I’m only on chapter 2 right now. I’m unsure if I’ll post my thoughts on it immediately or wait a bit until I’m a little further in….
HouuuuuuuuugGHOUGOUu Houuug
I still have no idea what Amelie’s game plan was.
Okay, so she orchestrated the terrorists to capture her/give the UCA something to unite against/give Sam a reason to give a fuck about the UCA in the first place. But then she alsowanted to end the world via Last Stranding? But then she alsowanted Sam to stop her and wouldn’t let anyone else interfere with that? But then she developed BBs to help with the Stranding? But thenshe caused the first Death Stranding in the first place because she wouldn’t let Sam die? But thenshe also believed in connecting America/Reconstructionism?
I choose to believe that it was the Extinction Entity/human sides of her wrestling that caused the weird behavior. That or she’s just gaming everyone (but then why would she maroon herself on the Beach voluntarily I am so confused) but still. It’s confusing. Leads to some cool fic tho.
Yeah shes….. hmmmmmmmmmmm
She thought she could stop it at first, so she set up Bridges and the beginnings of the chiral network then at some point she realized it couldn’t be stopped and didn’t think she could stop herself so she wanted Sam to stop her. But THEN it turned out she could have just isolated herself on the beach the whole damn time- which I’m unsure if she realized she could do or not. I think that last part was something that she was either blinded from with a mixture of fear/pride OR she just genuinely didn’t realize it was an option until she super fucked shit up
Last week, I texted Legolas and invited him to go to a vegan event that was happening near us. (He’s also vegan.) I also texted The Teacher, who I hadn’t seen in far too long, and invited her. I made plans to pick up Legolas, and he offered to make us breakfast, which I accepted. He makes excellent oatmeal. When I arrived, he finished making the food and we went upstairs to eat and catch up with each other. Right before it was time to go, he gave me a look and climbed on top of me, grabbing my tits and playing with me. I made little noises and felt my hips move a little. After a minute or two, he sighed and asked, “We should probably leave, shouldn’t we?” I nodded and we reluctantly got up and left.
We met up with The Teacher and her girlfriend at the vegan thing and walked around with them for a while. They had been there for a while already and it was hella hot out, so they went to a nearby restaurant while Legolas and I continued exploring. We’d gotten some delicious vegan nachos when we first got there, but we got some awesome cookie sandwiches and tried various samples. I decided I wanted a shirt, and tried to buy the first one I saw, but Legolas strongly suggested I not do that. (He totally told me not to and I loved it.) We explored a little more and then I got the one I wanted. By that time, we were both kind of tired, so we headed to join The Teacher and her girlfriend at the restaurant. I had a fantastic time there, catching up more with The Teacher, talking with her and her girlfriend and her group of friends, complaining about things, drinking beer, and eating two kinds of fried potatoes.
Legolas and I left in the early afternoon and headed back to his place. We took the train part of the way, and it was pretty crowded. We couldn’t get seats, so we grabbed on to the bars. Legolas put his arm around me, helping me not to fall. I liked that move. It was sweet and I appreciated it. About halfway through the train ride, Legolas leaned in to me and said, “You know I really want to finger you right now, don’t you?” I got embarrassed and looked down, but of course I was also turned on. Having someone tell me what they want to do to me, or even just that they want me, is a big turn on. Knowing that I’m desirable and wanted, and that someone else has been thinking of me, and thinking of me like that, is an amazing feeling, even beyond just hearing those kinds of things said out loud, which is wicked hot in and of itself. I said that I hadn’t known, but that I would like that. He continued, talking about wanting to just have me on my knees sucking his cock, and that people wouldn’t mind, since he’d brought enough to share. The idea of being used like that in public and passed around made me a little weak at the knees.
Finally, as we got closer to our stop, we were finally able to sit. I slid into the seat next to the window, and he sat next to me. He looked at me and put his hand between my legs, rubbing my cunt through my panties. My eyes opened wide and I looked around, but of course no one could see what was happening, or if they could, they didn’t notice. Legolas told me he could tell how wet I was, and I got embarrassed again. At the same time, I was grinning like crazy over the fun we were having. He slide his hand out from between my leg and put it on my inner thigh. Then he pinched it hard and with his nails. It was a real challenge to keep my face calm and not make loud noises. I love being hurt in public, and that’s a big part of why. Having your body sending you flight or fight signals, having to quiet your noises and keep your face and body language normal, all while the sadist next to you is grinning with delight at your suffering.
When we got back to my car, as soon as we’d both sat down, he put his hands between my thighs again, playing with my cunt. I was soaking wet by this point, and he could feel it. As he played with my cunt, he told me, “I want to fuck you bad.” I was feeling impish, so I said, “You mean badly?” He gave me a look and grabbed my thigh and squeezed it hard. I squeaked and apologized. He messed with me a little while longer, and then I drove us back to his place, full of anticipation.
