#it's better with stereo audio

[gayestpiano]

i made some techno music (?)

in my mind this is being played in the background at a dance club

[dodomingo]

Anyone got a small Minecraft server or smth they want a new person for? Mostly just looking for a casual-"creative"-survival server to mess around in, if it's like a town-theme server that'd be cool slkdfj Also 18+ server/members only

[piscoyt]

came to the comclusion that the time i wait for davinci to load stuff would be much less than the time it would take me to figure out simple operations in premeiere kiss kiss

[puppys-rhythm-heaven]

remix 7 is just. v serotonin-inducing ngl. i love it v v much. <3

[phoward89]

Banner by me, dividers by @saradika-graphics

Based on this ask

I'm sorry in advance for murdering your feels with this sad, angsty, heartbreaking story.

Anyways....have fun reading

Heartless

Pt 1

You loved your boyfriend, Coriolanus. Maybe you even loved him too much. So when you discovered the truth about him…

Well…it devastated you.

It broke your heart into a million pieces.

On the day that you made a life changing discovery, one that was supposed to be happy, you got a reality check that gave you whiplash so hard that you didn't know what was what anymore.

After your doctor's appointment you went home to the penthouse that you shared with Coriolanus and his grandmother, Grandma’am. His cousin, Tigris, had moved out a little while back; she lives in a condo above her boutique now.

When you entered the penthouse, you saw that Ma Plinth was sitting, waiting for you, with a little platter of ginger cookies on the glass coffee table. “How was your appointment? I hope you're feeling better.” The mother of your late friend, Sejanus, warmly remarked.

“My appointment went well; I'm feeling better now too.” You kindly smiled at the middle-aged woman who reminded you so much of her son with her kind smile. “Thank you for watching Grandma’am. Coriolanus doesn't like her to be alone too much and I just had to get to my appointment.” You gratefully told her while making your way over to the coffee table to grab a cookie.

Ma Plinth stood up, only to gesture to a brown paper wrapped package on the table. “A package arrived while you were gone.”

You grabbed a cookie.l, taking a small nibble off it. “Oh, thank you for bringing it in. I'll put it in Coryo's study for him.”

“Oh, Y/N, it's not for him. It's addressed to you.” The dark-haired woman informed you before waving goodbye and showing herself out.

You had a package?That's odd. You never get packages or mail in general.

Everything gets sent to Coriolanus since he has all the bills and the house registered under his name.

You were curious about the package, so you put your cookie down on the tray and picked up the brown parcel.

You read your name and address on the package, but the space for a return address was left blank. You thought that was odd, but shrugged it off.

Curiosity got the better of you; you opened the parcel only to find a letter and a tape. An audio tape.

You unfolded the letter and read it.

Miss Halvir,

I'm writing you this letter because your dear Mr. Snow is not the man you believe him to be.

He is not a man that takes his…say…oaths and promises seriously. He is a heartless man incapable of feelings.

Most of all love. I know you believe him to love you, but listen to me when I say, my dear, that he does not in fact love you.

Coriolanus Snow is cut from the same cloth as his father. A cold, callous man that sees order as a way to balance the wildness of the world.

He sees all the world as an arena with two types of people in it.

Victors and the unfortunate souls that are not strong enough to survive and become a victor.

You, girl, are no victor, but he is.

Coriolanus Snow is.

And he will do anything to get ahead in this world. Including selling out his only friend. His best friend. One Sejanus Plinth.

In this package I have placed a copy of the recording that was played during Private Plinth’s date with the noose. Please listen to it in private.

It will shed some light on the man you falsely believe to love you.

I would hate for something to happen to you, like it did poor Sejanus Plinth, because of misplaced trust in one Coriolanus Snow.

Your hands shook as you put the letter down.

I'mYou couldn't believe what you just read.

It couldn't be true. It just couldn't be.

You worried your bottom lip, turning the small audio tape over and over in your hand. You were scared to hear what was on it.

But you knew that you had to listen to it. So, you went over to the stereo, but it in, and pressed play.

What you heard on that tape made your heart stop. Every word exchanged between Sejanus and Coryo made you sick. The dead boy trusted the blonde, only to be secretly recorded and betrayed by him.

It was too much to handle.

If Coriolanus could do that to sweet Sejanus then what could he do to you?

You knew what you had to do. You couldn't stay with him; you had to pack your bags and go back to your mother's apartment. At least you'd be safe back home with your mother; safety's all that matters right now.

You can ignore that shattering pain of your heart breaking as long as your safe.

“Darling, I made reservations for dinner tonight at the Capitol Grille for 7.” You heard Coriolanus call out to you from the foyer as you finished packing the last of your things in your bags.

Well, the Capitol Grille was a very high end steak house where the menus didn't have price tags printed on them. It was also a place that you needed to put in a reservation ahead of time; somebody just couldn't walk in or call same day to get a table.

People waited weeks, sometimes even months for a table. Hmph, and knowing that Coryo's using Strabo Plinth’s money to snag a table and eat a 3 course meal that cost more then most people's pay in the districts disgusted you.

Oh god. The way he got the Plinths family fortune made you want to run away from him and never look back.

Main reason why you were zipping up your bag whenever Coriolanus entered you- no his bedroom.

“Darling why don't you wear-” He began to say, only to stop mid sentence and ask, “Going somewhere?”

“Yea.” You nodded. “I'm moving back in with my mother.” You looked up from your bag, only to see the platinum blonde arching a puzzled brow at you.

“Why're you going down to the 8th floor? Is she sick” Coriolanus couldn't help, but think that all your mother's chain smoking had finally gotten to her.

Yes, Coriolanus smokes socially; even has cigars with the high power playing politicians during certain events and dinners, but it wasn't anything that's damaging to his health.

Hell, he thinks breathing in all the chemicals in Dr. Gual’s lab’ll destroy his lungs first.

“I can't be with you anymore, Coriolanus. I'm breaking up with you; moving back home.”

“WHAT?!” The platinum blondr shouted so loud that you thought your eardrums busted.

Slinging you duffel over your shoulder and grabbing the handle to your rolling suitcase, you simply told him, “You heard me. I’m leaving you.”

His icy blue eyes flashed with anger and a hint of something else as he stormed over to you. “You're not going anywhere, Y/N.” He ordered, grabbing your suitcase out of your hand.

You yanked your suitcase, trying to snatch it away from him. “Give it back, Coriolanus. I need it “

“You don't need it because you're not leaving.” The cold hearted man that you once believed was capable of loving you said while slinging your suitcase across the room. “Now behave and get dressed. I got reservations for us at-” began pulling the strap of your duffel off of your shoulder l, only for you to snatch the bag back and interrupt him with, “I'm not going to dinner with you tonight or any other night. Not anymore, Coriolanus.” Feeling yourself ready to cry, you started walking away from him.

As long as you didn't look at him you'd be fine.

“We're done. Just go find something else you can pretend to love.” You remarked, walking out of the bedroom.

You made it roughly 3 feet down the hall, only to hear the heavy footfalls of your ex’s black floor shines echoing against the marble floor. Coriolanus stopped you dead in your tracks when he grabbed your upper arm. Spinning you around to look at him, he made to sell you the charming lie of, “Y/N, after being together since our Academy day, I'm not pretending to love you. I do love you.”

Shaking your head, you let out a tiny cackle of, “You're so full of shit. You know that?” You snapped your arm, causing his hold on it to break. Your fingers tightly clutched the strap of your duffel bag as you revealed, ‘I know what you did to sweet Sejanus and how you're exhorting his wall meaning parents.”

His baby blues turned into saucers. For once, the stoic and well masked man looked like he was frazzled.

Looks like you caught him off guard; you confronted him with truths he didn't want to share with you.

Coriolanus reached out for you, but you took two large steps back. Running a hand thru his hair, the platinum blonde looked at you as if you chucked his car out of the penthouse window. “I don't know what you think I did, darling, but let me explain everything.” His tone was dripping with a fake promise.

You knew that he wouldn't tell you the truth. He'd just tell you another one of his lies.

Heartless bastard.

And to think that you wasted nearly 5 years with his ass. You've been by his side since you were 16 years old, only to find out now that everything was a lie.

He never loved you. He never cared.

Hell, the only reason Coriolanus is with you is because the songbird went missing.

Yea…

Now you're thinking that the friendly act he was putting on with his tribute, Lucy Gray, wasn't an act at all. Now you realize he was cheating on you with her and you were too damn stupid to see it.

And to think that you faithfully wrote him and called him when he was a peacekeeper stationed in 12.

You should've listened to your mother and gone out with Sejanus instead. Maybe if you would've accepted his advance he'd still be alive..your friend wouldn't have followed the devil out to District 12 only to be betrayed and sent to the noose.

Too late now. What's done’s done.

But you do wish that you didn't fall in love with somebody who can never love you. Someone so evil.

So heartless.

“Nothing you say to me’s going to make me stay with you, Coriolanus.”

“Can you stop calling me Coriolanus and call me Coryo, like you always do?” Coriolanus asked with a pitiful look in his eyes. You're positive it's fake since he's incapable of feeling anything, other than hate and greed.

“I got a package in the mail today addressed to me; inside was the tape that you recorded of Sejanus. The one that got him hanged.”

Coriolanus' breath caught in his throat and his palms began to sweat. How did somebody send you the copy? He thought that only Dr. Gual has access to that.

She wouldn't send it to you. In fact, she keeps her records well under lock and key; would never part with them.

Looks like one of the interns he replaced in Dr. Gaul's lab is out to make his life hell because he took their coveted internship.

Coriolanus know that he had to calm you down; get you to put your bag down and get changed into a nice dress so he could take you out for dinner.

Damnit, he had something special planned, even got permission from Dr. Gaul to leave the lab early, so you needed to stop looking at him like a monster. He needed you to look at him with love again and quick, otherwise his dinner plans are going to go up in smoke.

“Y/N, I know you think that I betrayed Sejanus, but I didn't. I meant for the tape to reach Strabo, so that he could buy Sejanus an honorable discharge, but it didn't happen that way. The tape was never given to Strabo, it was used as evidence against our friend instead.” Coriolanus told you, foolishly thinking that you'd believe his twisted half truth. Well, they say the best lies are half truths.

Your nostrils flared angrily at hearing the snake in front of you call Sejanus his friend. Sejanus was your friend, not his. Coriolanus wasn't able to have real friends because he couldn't love anything.

Well the only things he loved were money and power, but that didn't count because those aren't people. Those are objects; possessions.

Before you could blink, you slapped Coriolanus across his smooth shaven cheek. “You don't get to call him your friend. Not after you got him killed.”

“You think I'm not haunted by that? That I don't have nightmares of Sejanus screaming out for his Ma; the mockingjays perched on the hanging tree repeating his frightened last cries before flying away?” Coriolanus rhetorically asked, only to give the false confession of, “I broke down crying at my bunk after helplessly watching my brother die, so don't stand here and tell me that I'm not sorry or that I killed my best friend on purpose because I didn't.”

“Oh, Coriolanus l, don't go there. I know for a fact you sleep like a baby every night.” You scoffed.

Shaking your head, you spun round and stormed down the hall.

Coriolanus was hot on your heels. His velvety words of, “Please, darling, don't be rash. Don't throw away 5 years over a tape you received in the mail.”

“I'm not throwing anything away, Coriolanus. As it turns out, those 5 years were all an act for you.” You stormed right into the main room and over to the foyer. Looking at him from over your shoulder as you reached the door, you gave him the famous last words of, “I’m glad I found out you’re heartless; will never love me before when there's still time to get away from you.”

Coriolanus just stared at the door after you slammed it shut. His anger was festering in his chest; he wanted to kill whoever sent you that tape.

Damnit!

There goes his plans for tonight.

He better call the restaurant and cancel the reservation; call up Tigris and let her know that he doesn't need her to stay with Grandma’am tonight because he's not taking Y/N out for dinner anymore.

Looks like he's stuck ordering something in for him and Grandma'am. He wonders if he should give her back that heirloom ring of hers or if he should just keep it; shove it to the back of his sock drawer.

Grandma’am is old and her memory’s started to fade; if he tries to give her the ring back it might put her into one of her nonsense ramblings.

No, he'll keep the ring.

He'll give you some time to cool off; then he'll shower you with jewelry and roses to soften you up.

Once you were softened up, he'd talk some sense into you. Get you to come home.

If you thought that breaking up with Coriolanus Snow would be easy, well, you were wrong. It was the hardest thing you did in your entire life.

And you know why?

Because he wouldn't leave you alone.

Well, he left you alone for the first couple of days, but after that he started sending flowers and gifts. No, not flowers and gifts. Roses and jewelry.

You never accepted them. You always tossed the roses in the trash and gave the packages of jewelry to the desk clerk with the instructions to give them to Coriolanus Snow.

You'd think he'd get the hint and stop.

Well, he didn't.

Instead, the floral arranged for larger and the jewelry kept coming back. Hell, he even went so far as giving you a copy of an ancient Pre-Panem book. A book from an ancient author that you loved.

Jane Austen.

You mother told you to burn the book, but you couldn't do that. It's be a sin to destroy such a work of art.

So, that was the only gift you kept.

But in doing so, you opened the Pandora’s box that was Coriolanus Snow's delusions. He thought that you were ready to see him again because you accepted a book, so he would come by your mother's every night looking to see you.

You always hid in your old child bedroom while your mother showed him away.

After 4 weeks of this insane behavior, your mother told you that she was concerned for your safety. That she felt you never to leave the Capitol for a while. Stay with your brother Rein, who was a peacekeeper that just received an officer’s commission in District 12.

Honestly, you didn't want to leave the Capitol. The Capitol was your home, but you knew that if you stayed then things would get ugly for you. Especially when it concerns Coriolanus.

You knew that Coriolanus would never look for you in District 12. He'd just write you off as a girl he lost control of and just find himself another Capitol bimbo to manipulate and control with false words of love.

So, that's why you were currently stepping off of the train in District 12.

Your brother was standing on the platform, eager awaiting your arrival in his officer’s uniform. When he spotted you, he quickly made his way over to your side and greeted you with a hug.

Reaching for your suitcase, he chuckled, “Let me take that for you, sis.”

“I see becoming an officer's turned you into a gentleman.” You teased Rein as he room your suitcase from you; leading you away from the platform.

“Mother told me your ex is stalking you with roses and jewelry.” Of course she did. Looking between you and a Jeep in the distance, your brother asked, “Does he know about the baby?”

“No.” And you're glad you received that tape after you came home from your doctor's appointment, confirming your suspicions. If not then you'd be trapped with that heartless monster.

“He’s just been sending me that stuff in an attempt to manipulate me back into his arms.

“I'm sorry things didn't work out, but you're more then welcome to stay with me in my apartment on base for as long as you need to.”

Your brother's words meant a lot to you. At least you had somebody to protect you from your ex.

Protect the both of you since you were going to become a mother in nearly 7 months.

Coriolanus walked into Dr. Gaul’s lab with a dead look in his icy blue eyes. It made Dr. Gaul gleeful. It was better then the cold look he had when he returned from his summer vacation as a peacekeeper.

Oh, this time the look in his eyes held so much hate that she doubts anything could ever soften his irises. It was marvelous, really, how the mad scientist molded her protege into a hateful man. Into, well, her best experiment.

But Dr. Gaul knew that there was a chance all of her hard work turning Snow as cold as his namesake could be ruined by you. Well, not you per say, but the creature you were incubating.

Coriolanus Snow wasn't old enough, cold enough, and calloused enough yet to enter fatherhood. He was too young and might grow soft at becoming a father.

A year under her tutelage wasn't long enough to ensure that he wouldn't slip back into a weaker mindset once a crying, shriveling, pink creature that was half him and half you popped into the world.

Dr. Gaul knew that she had to break every part of Coriolanus in order to piece him together into the war mongrel leader she wanted to run the country. You were that small shred of good that latched onto him, kept him from fully drowning in the darkness. A child, your child, might make Coriolanus see the world through a different lense.

Now, she couldn't have that. That would ruin everything.

So, when her contacts at the OBGYN office told her about your appointment and your condition, she sent you a little care package.

Her star student never figured out.that she sent it, instead he blamed the intern who lost his spot to him. The mad scientist even helped Coriolanus test a deadly mutt of the innocent soul who he thought did him wrong. All because Coriolanus’ proposal plans where ruined.

Oops…

Dr. Gaul grinned evilly as she read the latest report from her spies. You were now in District 12 living with your brother on the Peacekeeper base.

Well, looks like it's time for a new game change when it comes to the Hunger Games.

Dr. Gaul decided that even children born on peacekeeper bases would be considered district citizens and would be legally obligated to enter their names into the game's lotto style drawing.

Unless a child between the ages of 12 and 18 is a Capitol citizen living in the Capitol, they will be registered for the games. Living on a Peacekeeper’s.base will not over safety to any child I'm the districts.

Not anymore.

Hopefully your child, fathered by Coriolanus, will never have their name picked for the games.

But as long as Dr. Gaul's alive, shaping Coriolanus like a potter shapes clay, anything's possible.

Tags: @kuroosbby001, @purriteen, @poppyflower-22, @meetmeatyourworst, @whipwhoops, @bxtchopolis, @readingthingsonhere,@savagenctzen, @ryswritingrecord, @erikasurfer, @tulips2715, @universal-s1ut, @thesmutconnoisseur, @squidscottjeans, @sudek4l, @wearemadeofstardust0, @mashiromochi, @gracieroxzy, @belcalis9503, @shari-berri, @aoi-targaryen, @whiteoakoak, @spear-bearing-bi-witch, @gisellesprettylies @loverandqueenofdragons , @qoopeeya , @mfnqueen1

[fayes-fics]

Call Me

Pairing: Benedict Bridgerton x fem!reader, modern AU

Summary: When you are parted from Benedict, he guides you through pleasuring yourself....

Warnings: 18+ smut, minors DNI, phone sex, dirty talk, masturbation, use of sex toy.

Word Count: 3.5k

Authors Note: this is a very belated request fill for the talented and lovely @broooookiecrisp from her ask HERE, where Benedict guides the reader through masturbation. She also chose the pic above, which looks very modern Benedict in Tuscany :) I hope you enjoy this story, my lovely. Thanks to @colettebronte for reading this through & @eleanor-bradstreet for the title. Enjoy! <3

The Facetime call connects as you recline, wearing your noise-cancelling wireless headset.

“Hello darling,” that familiar smooth voice greets, “I've missed you.” His sigh is deep and heartfelt. With the volume up, it sounds like he is lying right with you, but then it's in both ears; the stereo effect makes your tummy feel warm. 

“I've missed you too,” you hum, toying with the corner of the duvet you lay under. You are so happy he secured an artist retreat residency in Tuscany for the week, but you miss him terribly. He's only been gone a few days, but it feels like forever.

“I'm sorry this has to be an audio call; the wifi here is shockingly slow and the phone reception non-existent; I thought it better to sacrifice a blocky video for crystal clear audio,” he explains. “You will just have to imagine my face,” he adds with a soft laugh.

Indeed, your mind fills with images of his handsome face; you can even picture the gentle, lopsided grin you can hear in his tone.

“Are you somewhere private?” you ask, a little nervous.

“Yes. Why do you ask?” his question shifting into that lower cadence that fires all the butterflies.

“I miss you,” you offer again, hoping perhaps he can intuit what you are asking for, drawing your knees up, the cotton sheet catching on your heels as you do so.

“I miss you too,” he echoes again, “but I don't think that needs to be said in private,” his tone laconic. 

He knows exactly where your thoughts have slid, but he's playing innocent. He always goads you into pushing to speak your mind, to voice your desires, and tonight is no different—gently coaxing you to profess what you want.

“I want you to talk to me,” your voice with a slight waver that betrays a hidden meaning in the words.

“I am,” the timbre makes the little earphones in your ear almost vibrate, and a frisson runs down your spine.

“No…” you hesitate, “talk to me,” emphasising the word.

“If you want something from me, darling, all you have to do is ask,” his tone a dark lilting tease now.

“Talk to me like you do when we are intimate,” you rush out on an exhale.

His rich chuckle makes your nipples pebble without so much as a touch. “Now we are getting somewhere….” he buzzes. “Are you going to touch yourself for me while I do, hmm?”

You bite your lip but can't disguise the whimper that escapes. You close your eyes and flick the volume up two notches on your phone, throwing it aside so both hands are available. 

“I want you to tell me what to do,” you breathe, pushing the duvet down your body, feeling heated.

You hear the noise that catches deep in his throat; it's thick and desirous, and you thank the technology gods for headsets with this level of quality.

“What are you wearing?” he rumbles.

“Nothing…” you confess, knowing it's breathy and wanton.

“Oh god, yes,” his rushed response, a reflex that makes you clench your thighs together, loving how affected he is just by that simple statement. “Where are you?”

“In our bed.”

“Under the covers?”

“I was, but now I'm feeling hot, so I've pushed them aside. It's just me… naked… uncovered… alone… resting on your pillow…”

With each little phase, you can hear his breathing getting more pronounced. “Why my pillow?”

“It smells like you,” you answer.

“Does that turn you on?” his voice going tight.

“Yes, oh god, Ben, yes, it does.”

He growls lightly when you say his name, the noise in your ears so loud it makes you squeak, a hand straying to your breast.

“Guide me, please; I need to imagine it's your hands on me. “Draw me a mental picture as clear and evocative as one of your beautiful paintings.”

“Hmmmm,” his thoughtful hum runs right through your body with the volume up. “How about we take this slow, build to something? I have a painting I worked on earlier today. Would you like me to describe it to you? Describe how I would paint you into it?” 

“Yes! Yes, please,” you enthuse quickly, desperate for his artistry in all senses of the word.

“It's Tuscany, a sun-drenched summer’s day,” his storytelling is always spellbinding, so you settle back into the pillows as if listening to a private audiobook made just for you. “The sky is azure blue; the fields are bright, verdant green. Olive trees dot the rolling hills all around. Right in the middle is a small vineyard. A gentle slope of neatly rowed vines, the leaves canopying bunches of ripened grapes, drooping heavily, ready for harvest.”

As he speaks, you spider your fingertips over your collarbone, imagining the heat of the sun on your skin. 

“The grass between the vine rows is lush and thick, a balm from the heat,” his sonorous voice continues at a lush pace. “That is where I would paint you, lying on that hillside. The cool blades tickling your back as the sun bakes your skin.”

“What am I wearing, Benedict?” you inquire, gently biting your lip as your hands stray lower onto the swell of your breast, so enchanted by the picture he paints.

“Exactly what you are right now,” he responds with a slight hitch.

“Nothing?” you gasp, the idea suddenly so risque but more beguiling.

“That's right,” he rumbles. “I would paint you utterly nude.”

You brush lightly around your own areola, writhing gently under your own touch.

“Are you with me, Benedict? In this vineyard?” your breath quickening.

“How else am I going to paint you unless I am there too?” he teases gently. “And guess what I would be doing while I'm painting?” 

“What?” goosebumps on your arms with anticipation, your fingers moving concentric circles.

“I would tell you to touch yourself, just as I am now. There is nothing I want to paint more than you in the throes of ecstasy,” he exhales raggedly. “You are beautiful, wild, glorious….”

“I want that too,” you rush out. “Why have you never done it before?” 

He chuckles richly; the sound feels like a shimmer over your body. “Because it would be impossible to be near you when you are naked and not to touch you,” his admission is almost rueful. 

“I wish you were with me,” it’s wistful.

“I am,” he assures. “just remember hmm? Sunny hillside, naked, the sun on your skin and me there with you. Now, darling, I can tell you are already doing something; I can hear the quirk in your breath. Tell me, tell me in detail.”

“I’m..” you hesitate, “...I’m touching my nipples,” you rush out, finally letting your fingers trail over the nub, pebbling hard as he moans lightly.

“Oh yes,” he stutters, “don’t stop. Give them a gentle pinch for me. Between your finger and thumb…” he waits for your little hiss, and then he hums, “Mmm, does that feel good?”

“Yessss,” you hiss.

“Imagine it’s my fingers, darling,” he requests, and you do. 

You think of how it feels when his hands cup your breast, as you do now, and tease your nipples until you beg him to stop. You hear his breath catching in his throat as you make tiny little needy noises and tilt up a fraction off the bed, teasing yourself as he does.

“That’s it,” he encourages. “Now wet your fingers, suck on them…” 

You know he can hear the wet, suckling noise right in his earpiece as you do as commanded, returning your fingers and painting the dampness over your skin as it puckers heavily under the sensation.

“Now pinch yourself just a little harder; imagine it’s my tongue and teeth; I know how much you like it when I suck hard and just a gentle bite….”

“Ben…” you murmur his name as you move, your head rolling on the pillow, eyes fluttering.

“Fuckkk,” you hear him mutter, losing his composure. It makes something inside you catch fire, a tingle between your legs buzzing harder. 

“What next?” you beseech, wanting this to go quicker but at the same time to never stop.

“Slide your fingers down over your ribs, my love,” he stumbles a little, and you hear a squeak as if he is changing position.

“Tickles,” you giggle, and Benedict laughs softly with you.

“I know. I love to run the tip of my nose there,” he divulges, “or I may use a firmer touch. Do that, darling. Sweep your whole palm down, and feel the rise and fall with your breathing as you go.”

You do as asked, the heavier touch centring you somehow as your hand slips onto your tummy.

“Take your time, but don’t stop moving lower, darling,” he lectures. “You know I never do.”

It is so low it echoes around your whole being. Your thighs fall open, a trickle escaping your body.

“Oh god, I’m burning for you, Ben,” it’s out before you can stop it.

“Where?”

“You know where,” you obfuscate.

“I'm not there, remember? I need you to paint me a picture. I know you can do it. Don’t worry. No one can hear us; it’s just you and me. Missing each other.” His gentle, loving reassurance is the push you need.

“Between my legs,” you stutter under his coaxing.

“Are you wet for me?” he queries, panting a little.

“Yes,” you disclose quietly.

“Are you touching yourself?”

“Not yet,” you swirl your fingers through the patch of hair, almost as if waiting for his permission to touch.

“You want me to tell you exactly what to do, don’t you?” He intuits.

“Please,” you croak.

“Okay. I just have one condition…” he tapers off, temptingly, knowing he has you on tenterhooks.

“What?” the question is breathy, impatient.

“You have to be loud for me,” he petitions. “Don’t you dare hold back; I want to hear it all.”

“Okay, I promise,” you whisper, your clit pulsing, aching to be touched.

“Alright….” He begins as you hear more sounds like he is getting into position in bed himself, a slight rustle of cotton. “Bend your legs, bring your heels up high right near your bottom…”

You do as instructed.

“Now, splay your knees out wide.”

Again you follow to the letter, feeling the cool air swirling around your exposed, damp slit. 

“Reach behind your head and then slide my pillow under your hips…,” he continues in that sinful tone.

“Why?” You check even as you do as asked.

“Because I want my pillow to smell like your pussy when I get home,” he snarls. The untamed way he says it, so loud in your ears, makes you squeak. He has no shame in being explicit, even if you often flounder to do the same. 

Now, with your hips raised, it’s easier to touch yourself; likely, he thought about that, too.

“Mmm, are you comfortable again?” he checks.

“Yes,” you confirm, hand slipping to where it was before.

“Good, now take your middle finger and slide it lower,” he instructs. “Keep going until you find that little clit of yours,” you swear he has entered an even throatier register now, each word like dark silk cloaking you.

As your finger pad slides over that spot, you can’t help the little ohhhh that escapes your lips.

“Oh yes, you’ve found it, haven’t you? Now slide a little lower, hook that finger, and pull back up.”

You do as told and moan as your finger immediately snags the most sensitive spot.

“Oh fuck yes,” you can hear the shudder in his tone, how affected he is, making you fizz too. The self-consciousness melts away as his precise instructions root you into your body, letting your mind shut off all the thoughts and worries—just focussed on the present.

“Swirl that finger gently for me, baby,” he compels, “anticlockwise.”

Instantly, your body responds as if it were his touch. You breathe deep as you keep moving, the slickness of your desire easing your motions.

“Are you swelling just a little?” he sounds more urgent now.

“Yes,” you confirm, your clit swelling under your touch as you picture him, his face hovering over you, imagining his fingers teasing you as his lips slid hot over your neck.

“Oh god, I love when you get all swollen and puffy and flushed right there for me,” he groans lewdly, and it’s a beeline straight to your pussy. It convulses around nothing, leaking over your bottom cheeks and onto his pillow. You call his name louder, squirming bodily, something tugging inside. Your body craves him—to be fucked, invaded, pushed open, pounded until it aches from that delicious stretch.

“Fuck I need you, Ben,” you moan as your fingers move faster, sliding over that little pearl. “I need you to fuck me so hard.”

“I want that, but not yet,” he grits out, your declaration seeming to fuel him. “Imagine it’s my tongue, darling, lathing against your clit, drinking up all that beautiful juice. You always taste divine, like a slightly tart peach, sweet but sharp.” 

Your mind supplies images of just that, his slightly stubbled jaw rubbing against the sensitive skin of your labia as he has to use both hands to hold you open to his onslaught, your legs reflexively wanting to close up around his head at the powerful sensations you feel, your fingers running into his lush head of hair, nails scraping along his warn scalp, praising his skill.

“When I tell you to, you grab your vibrator, baby.” he interrupts your reverie.

“Yes,” you comply, knowing it is tucked safely under your pillow beside you. 

“For now, keep rubbing for me; go faster,” he implores. “Let me hear you, your beautiful voice….”

You speed up, changing motions as he guides you to do so. Softly chanting his name as you notch higher up that invisible ladder. But he knows your body so well—knows with absolute precision when to shake things up, as he does now.

“STOP!!!” he instructs harshly. 

You instantly halt ministrations, whining, hearing his laboured breaths loud in your ear, your fingers frozen inches above your folds.

“Oh, are you pulsing baby? Are you so close to coming?” he sounds proud, almost smug.

“Yesssss…  please let me continue,” you plead, lungs heaving.

“No,” he menaces as your hand wanders over your thighs to stop the temptation to defy him, feeling the quiver in your muscles.

“Where has your other hand been?” he quizzes.

“Gripping the sheets,” you admit as he huffs a laugh about your honesty.

“Now swap. Touch your clit with that hand,” he tutors.

“What about my other hand? It's soaked,” you confess abashed.

“I know, baby, we are going to put it to good use. Slide two of those soaked fingers inside your pussy for me,” he instructs, so low that every word buzzes in your bones.

You call out his name as you slide two fingers deep into your own soaked pussy, rippling around your touch, a lewd, squelching sound as you do so.

“Oh fuck… I think I heard that,” he inhales sharply.

“You,” you assert, “you did this to me.”

He makes a feral noise in response, breathing in harsh gusts.

“Fuck yourself,” he growls, “fuck yourself with your fingers.”

Your movements are instinctual now, following his words to the letter. Shame melted away under the heat of desire. For him, for this. To come so damn hard you scream the walls down. Plunging your fingers as deep as you can reach, over and over. Your hips are pushed high off the bed, shoulder blades and feet taking your weight as you race greedily towards your peak, forehead and the back of your neck dewy from the exertion. Thinking of his fingers buried inside, of how, when it’s him, he holds you down with a solid quad muscle over your thigh, doesn’t let you buck up as you are now. 

“Please, Ben. I need your cock,” you bumble, uncensored, whimpering that you can’t quite reach as deep as he can, reach that spot that makes you babble utter nonsense and white out with pleasure.

“Grab that vibrator y/n. Fuck yourself properly,” he orders gruffly.

You release your clit and fumble under your pillow for it, a slight sound of victory catching in your throat as you do so. 

Without preamble, you thrust it inside yourself, just as he would with his cock when he knows you are this mindless. The stretch isn’t as good as him, not the same weight and heat, but it still feels like a heavenly sensation in your heightened state. Your noises staccato as you take it all on board, pausing slightly to get used to the invasion.

“Did I say you could stop?” he interrogates.

Without riposte, you scramble to obey, withdrawing the vibe then sinking it back in, attempting to ape one of his rhythms, the sense memory of him moving inside you making you moan loudly.

“That’s it. Does that feel good?” his voice practically a purr.

“Yes, but not as good as you,” you answer, missing the feel of him surrounding you when you are fucking. Skin, sweat, scent,  weight, the feeling of another body covering or moving under yours. 

“I know, darling. I promise it will be me soon. I’ll be home in a few days,” he pledges, breathing hard.

“Will you fuck me as soon as you are home?” you implore, wanting nothing more in this moment.

“Yes, baby. I’ll take you in the hallway if you want,” he vows, his cadence desperate.

“Please…” that word is all you can stutter as the hand controlling the vibe becomes a frenzy, your pussy clinging to its mass as if it were his cock.

“Don’t forget that engorged clit,” he reminds. “I need you to rub it as hard as you can with that other hand,” his voice is becoming more broken. “Im fucking you right now,” he avows roughly, “It's me, darling, fucking you so hard. And you feel so so good clenching around my cock…” 

You belatedly realise he may be touching himself, may have his cock in his hand as he walks you to orgasm. It makes your thighs tremble and clamp around your hands.

“Are you touching yourself too, Ben?”

“Yessss”, he hisses. Below the sound of your joint panting, you can hear the faint sound of skin slapping lightly as he fucks his fist.

It’s that image in your mind - him sprawled naked on a bed, skin sunkissed against the crisp white sheets, in a thick stone-walled Tuscan villa, the scent of wildflowers and the lush sound of crickets wafting through the open shutters - that hurtles you towards completion. Imagining yourself right there with him, gripping the wrought iron bed frame as he fucks so deep you can’t help but scream his name and shudder as it is his fingers snagging over your clit rather than your own.

The next few moments are a frenzied blur as, after some last gasps, you emit a long, loud scream as you come so hard, convulsing around the facsimile of his cock, your clit jumping under your touch, dimly aware he is still streaming filthy, needy encouragements that descend into gruff noises as he follows you over, the tell-tale sound of that final moment when he comes so loud against your eardrums as if he is right there slumped around you, his lips hot on your neck.

There is nothing but gulping breaths as both recover, feeling no shame, just a bone-deep satisfaction that makes you languid and heavy, not wanting to move, just curl up and sleep, a t-shirt of his you grabbed earlier your companion in his absence.

“Fuck I came so hard,” he sounds almost sheepish as it sounds as if he is cleaning up his torso.

“Me too,” you concur, little ripples of fire still running down your legs and arms, oversensitive to any stimuli; even the bedding feels almost too much.

“I want you to come again, but you sound sleepy,” he assesses correctly, and you hum in agreement.

“Too sleepy,” you slur the words as you turn onto your side and fling away the toy to be dealt with another time.

His amused sound is rich and warm. “Curl up, my love,” you once again find yourself carrying out his bidding without conscious thought.

“How long until you are home, Ben?” you mumble after a stifled yawn.

“Thirty-three hours,” you can hear the affectionate, lazy smile as he says it.

“Too long,” you lament gently into his t-shirt, the citrus-woodsy scent of him a comfort.

“Next time, come with me; it's beautiful here,” he murmurs ardently.

“I may love it there too much,” you jest, “I may never want to leave.”

“If you were here with me, I may never want to either,” he imparts softly.

You just hum contentedly. “Will you stay on with me?” you ask quietly, “until we fall asleep?”

“I never planned for anything but,” he responds fondly, a warmth blooming behind your ribs at his words.

And that is how you drift off, whispering sweet nothings as you slip into a restful slumber. The call only disconnects hours later when your batteries run out as you both sleep soundly.

Benedict taglist: @makaylan @foreverlonginguniverse @iboopedyournose @aintnuthinbutahounddog @severewobblerlightdragon @margofiore @writergirl-2001 @heeyyyou @enichole445 @enchantedbytomandhenry @ambitionspassionscoffee @chaoticcalzoneranchsports @nikaprincessofkattegat @baebee35 @crowleysqueenofhell @bridgertontess @fiction-is-life @lilacbeesworld @angels17324 @queen-of-the-misfit-toys @divaanya @musicismyoxygen84 @benedictspaintbrush @miindfucked @sorryallonsy @cayt0123 @hottytoddyhistory @truly-dionysus @fictionalmenloversblog @zinzysstuff @malpalgalz @panhoeofmanyfandoms @kinokomoonshine @causeimissu @delehosies @m-rae23 @last-sheep @kmc1989 @desert-fern @starkeylover @corpseoftrees-queen @magical-spit @bunnyweasley23 @how-many-stars-in-the-sky @amygdtjhddzvb @0x1harmonia0x1

[gubbles-owo]

if folks on Terra regularly have two pairs of ears, then like. how do they hear. how do they hear. what does it sound like. i NEED to know. I'm no biology expert, but the primary disadvantage I can think of with human ears is their inability to tilt, adjust, or otherwise move to better spatialize sound. we have to tilt our heads around to get a sense of where the heck a particular sound might be originating from, and even then it's far from infallible. higher frequencies with very short wavelengths are notoriously difficult to locate, and lower sub-bass frequencies with very long wavelengths can sometimes suffer a similar phenomenon. slapping on a second pair of animal ears on an otherwise human head might help in alleviating these issues. many are able to move around, and typically detect frequencies outside of the standard human range of around 20Hz to 20kHz. the bit I don't get tho? they all seem to face forward. like, if you're going to evolve to double the amount of ears, wouldn't it be optimal for the 2nd set to be aligned backwards for fuller coverage?? or at least in SOME different direction. like sure, they have a range of movement to work with, but I can't imagine having a 2nd pair of ears that, at rest face the same direction as my existing ones. it sounds like a recipe for needless sensory overload... r-right?? this has real "three dimensional idiot atttempts to grasp four dimensional space" vibes LMFAO my former specialty was doing music/audio, and the whole concept of binaural audio is super interesting. heck I made my own goddamned edit of carameldansen to try and really make it sound like it was blaring on the other side of your wall. but what the heck would that sound like to april? does she listen to her music with standard headphones while the bnnuy ears are still keeping tabs on her environment? is she forever cast from the basic human pleasure that is shutting out the world via total replacement with blasting music? do they even make 4-driver headphones, or even mix audio in quadraphonic format? does 2-channel stereo music, to them, lack the same sense of depth and space that music summed to mono sounds like to us??? arknights not only refuses to answer any of these (to my knowledge), but instead laughs and spits on my face yet more questions

april. wh-what. kind of earplugs. do you have four of them or is it just two. are either pair like. human sized. please do not shove corn cob-sized earplugs into my head they will NOT fit

[achromant]

okay. more thoughts about charr headphones.

you can definetely split an audio channel into high/low frequencies. either side has two speakers that sit roughly atop the upper/lower ear pair.

there's gotta be SO many audio shenanigans you can do with double stereo sound.

headphones would be made from steel rather than plastic, needs to be sturdy. the cushioning is leather instead of textile, easier to clean, and doesnt chafe at the sensitive charr ears. Also needs neon inlays of green jade. they dont do anything technically, but they look design-y.

headband wraps around the neck, rather than sit atop the head. theyre usually dont slip down, as the band is really lightweight. some have a small chain that are clipped onto the horns for safety. theres probably been prototypes that clip directly on the horns or work like kind of a clasp, but since charr horns are so diverse, this one works better. also uses a similar shape to human versions, so great for production.

initial prototype was made by Chul-Moo, after the commander mentioning the lack of comfortable ear wear to listen to music to with. Baruhn may or may not have tricked Chul-Moo into inventing them by mentioning that Joon was working on a similar project.

Joon did come up with her own version of these. the only difference is that her prototype has RGB lights and comes in designer-white.

the headphones work wireless, and use a jade bot to recharge. because of the void corruption in some jade samples, the headphones may or may not play raspy voices whispering of the impending end of the world and darkness that swallows all of creation. charr dont mind though, and sometimes actively look for corrupted headphones. sounds like ASMR to them.

[calliemity]

hey! i redid my recording of this song! check it out here!

so yknow that dentist radio edit ive mentioned? well, ive only found 3 digital recordings of it. one of them is crunchy, one isnt pitched correctly, and one is only the instrumental. for some odd reason, no one has made a clear digital recording of the actual song. and, well, i own 3 different record copies of this version...

BEHOLD!!!!!! a direct digital recording of the dentist radio edit, using my new fancy turntable and audacity!!! it still has some record crackling, but this is miles clearer than anything ive been able to find online!! and its in stereo, so theres some fun speaker-to-speaker action as well, which i didnt even know this version had!!!!! so cool!!!

this version of the song incredibly interesting, they added a lot of stuff to it. the song opens with thr sound of orin's motorcycle, theres a more prominent bassline (which i think sounds better), theres a whole new lyric that's unique to this version only, and the biggest change is the audio from the arthur denton scene interrupting the song, and then merging with it. bill murray is moaning throughout the last chorus and its great. im fairly confident that this version was for radio promotion, especially with the inclusion of the bill murray stuff. but i cant really find like, any info on it or its multiple record copies. man!

anyway. i hope this recording helps get people interested in this version of the song! i will work on getting a program to help clean up the record crackling, but thats for another day. please check it out, and thank you for reading!!!

PS: if you wanna download the MP3 file for yourself, send me a dm and i'll give you the link to download it! im having trouble sharing the link on posts, it only seems to work when i send it directly to people? who knows. sorry!

[brokehorrorfan]

Scream Factory has revealed the specs for its The Shining (1997) Blu-ray, which will be released on March 12. Displeased with Stanley Kubrick’s 1980 adaptation, Stephen King took it upon himself to write the script based on his 1977 novel.

Mick Garris (The Stand, Sleepwalkers) directs the three-part miniseries. Steven Weber, Rebecca De Mornay, Melvin Van Peebles, Courtland Mead, and Wil Horneff star.

The Shining has been newly scanned in 2K from the interpositive with DTS-HD Master Audio 2.0 Stereo. Special features are listed below.

Special features:

Audio commentary by writer Stephen King, director Mick Garris, actors Steven Weber and Cynthia Garris, and select crew

11 additional scenes

Jack Torrance (Steven Weber) and his family (Rebecca De Mornay and Courtland Mead) move into the sprawling, vacant Overlook Hotel to get away from it all. Away from the alcoholism that derails Jack’s writing career. Away from the violent outbursts that mar Jack’s past. But Jack’s young son Danny knows better. He possesses a psychic gift called the shining — a gift the hotel’s vile spirits desperately want.

Pre-order The Shining.

[commodorez]

Anything I should know before trying to set up a microphone for my laptop the first time?

That all comes down to what kind it is, but for the moment I'm going to assume something for general purpose consumer use. For the moment I will demonstrate with Windows 7 because I'm old and stubborn, but 10 gives you many of the same options in the fancy newer layout. Just look for similar terms as you go. I haven't used a mic on a Mac or a Linux machine in a very long time to get specific to that.

If it's USB, plug it in and hopefully it sets itself to become the default device.

If it's a classic computer microphone with a 3.5mm/1/8" stereo TRS (that's Tip Ring Sleeve) audio jack, you want the connector on your laptop that might be indicated with either a microphone symbol OR it might be color coded pink (do they still do that for laptops sometimes?). Just plug it in. Don't plug it into the Line In port, that's not what you're after here (it might be light blue).

You want to check in your sound devices section (either in control panel/settings, or selected by the speaker icon on your taskbar next to the time).

If it isn't already the default, first go to the Recording tab, then select the device in the list, and click "Set Default". After that, you may want to do some level adjustment, so select "properties". From there, you can go to the Levels tab and adjust accordingly.

For either type, it doesn't hurt to do a test recording with something and play it back, see how it sounds. Tweak as needed.

If you're actively hearing yourself while you're testing it, that might be because you have "Listen to this device" selected in the Listen tab (just to the left of the Levels tab)

Individual programs will let you select which device you would like to use as your audio input, and it doesn't necessarily have to be your default device.

I can't really speak to using bluetooth wireless audio devices, as the only one I've ever used worked better with the accompanying USB wireless dongle on my work laptop. More or less if it's connected, it will give you the same options as before

I know modern earbuds and some varieties of headset have TRRS 3.5mm connectors carrying audio for the headphones and the microphone on the same connector. You'll have to check if your laptop has a connector that can accept that (check the spec sheet), otherwise you'll need to find an appropriate splitter cable to make it work in a standard TRS microphone connector.

Hopefully that answers your question. If it doesn't feel free to get more specific.

[eddiemunsons-missingnipple]

so I love your playlists and the guilty pleasure mix tapes is hilarious would you do something based on your finding them and eddie hearing you play them

Warnings: Fluff no use of y/n implied dom/sub undertones if you squint warning of spankings over all pretty tame.

Based on this playlist

Credit to @stuart-townsend for the gif.

Today was like any usual day at the munson trailer on Saturdays. Eddie was outside working on his van while uncle wayne was back on days at the plant. You and eddie haven't been dating long but you do spend a lot of nights over at his place. Eddie tells you all the time you might as well move in since you do the cooking and cleaning while you're there. Which is exactly what you're doing today after breakfast you kicked eddie outside so you can get to cleaning. With just a big tshirt on and your hair in a clip you start cleaning the trailer.

After about an hour cleaning you decided you wanted some music playing to help the process seem less tedious. Walking into eddies very messy room which is calls "organized chaos." You rummage through countless tapes until you find one wedged all the in the back of his stand. Picking it up it says guilty pleasures scribbled on the side. Giving a quizzical look hoping it's not some audio sex tape you pop it in his stereo system. What you don't expect next is to hear "dancing queen by Abba" start blasting through his large speakers. Immediately you start laughing because how on earth is the self proclaimed "most metal guy to ever metal " secretly loving Abba. Skipping to the next song suddenly Africa by toto was blaring in your ears.

The music was so loud you hadn't noticed eddie standing in the doorway with a crazed look on his face. "What are you doing sweetheart?" You hear him barely over the loud music. Suddenly he shuts it off and turns to you with a panicked look. You look to him with big worried eyes "I'm sorry baby I was looking for some music to help me get through cleaning" Eddie looks at you and tries hard to hide his smirk at your worried face. He inches closer to you and teases "were you being a bad girl going through my things hm?" You shook your head no looking up at him with your doe eyes. He just laughs and scoop you up in a bug bear hug kissing you on the tip of your nose. "You better not tell anyone about this or it's 15 spanks for you missy." Then he says "I have you know metal heads happen to love Abba by the way. " You give him a big grin rolling your eyes "suuuure they do." "Do they also love Sade as well?" Smirking at you again "nah she's just hot" And with that he slaps your ass before heading back out to work on his van. Leaving you there to process what you just discovered about your boyfriend.

.

[mutual-monsters]

love or sympathy (but never both)

Pairing: Bo Sinclair x reader

TW: dead dove: do not eat, very dark, kidnapping, The Chair™ and its implications, implied reader death, Bo is Bo, very canon-typical so watch out!

MINORS DNI !!! 🔞

Summary: Reader is kidnapped and stuck in the basement under Bo’s garage. Is there any way out of this?

Word count: 325

A/N: Written for @wndalovebot and their words written by the sea writing challenge. The prompt is in bold (“You actually believed me? Pathetic.”). Very dark, but very typical for the character. Also, Vincent makes an appearance! Yay, Vinny!

Also, I italicized Bo’s lines for some reason??? Who knows 🤦🏻

The title is from this song (because I'm a complete and utter menace).

I also suggest this audio from @slaasherslut to go with this because it's just so 😩

tagging: @ouijaboardemo

Ambrose is a castle of dirt and filth and clandestine atrocities. It’s a ghost town filled with malevolent spirits and men who are husks and homemade dolls and

You should have known better. The perversion should have seeped through your skin the second you set foot in the town and you should have seen through the veil of innocence and you should have at least run from the atrocity and

That’s what you tell yourself all day, every day, stuck, strapped to the chair beneath Beauregard Sinclair’s gas station, waiting for him to come back from whatever the hell he does all day.

And, as the rain slips in from the grate above, you try not to remember what you heard him do to your friends, what he’s done to every other soul who’s passed through the town, the pictures on the wall of the ones before you, and

The music on the stereo above doesn’t mask their screams. All it does is remind you of the fact that he’s at work, that in a few hours, he’ll be bringing you dinner and promising you one day you’ll meet his brothers and one day you “won’t be in that damned chair, you’ll be in the house with the rest of the family, like you should be” and

Do not ask him when he will let you out. He doesn’t plan to. He has no problem replacing you. He’s done it before. He’d have no remorse with the last thing you hear being,

“You actually believed me? Pathetic.”

No one has ever made it out of the basement and Vincent doubts they ever will. He is too scared to stand up to Bo about this. He is too scared to help one escape. All he can do is preserve what is left, and hope Bo will eventually take pity, something he knows his brother was robbed of far too long ago to ever get back now.

[belsaas]

An ode to the iRiver iHP-120

For whatever reason, I've found myself deeply nostalgic for high school as of late. And for me, that is intractable from nostalgia for what is perhaps the peak mp3 player ever made:

The iRiver iHP-120 was released in 2003, my sophomore year of high school, and it changed my life. This thing held an astounding 10GB of music—for comparison, most mp3 players at the time were flash based, and held 128 or 256 MB of music. The only big competitor at the time was the 1st generation iPod, a mac-exclusive device that transferred data over firewire and had to be synced using the fledgling iTunes. Juxtapose that to iRiver, who took what I like to call the "we don't give a fuck" approach:

When you plugged in the iHP-120 with USB 2.0, it just showed up as an external hard drive—you could throw whatever you wanted on there. Naturally, it could read mp3 files, but this thing introduced me to the world of audio codecs and processing in a way nothing could have prepared me. WMA files worked fine (a big deal at the time because of DRM issues, during the heyday of KaZaA and Limewire). You want to play uncompressed .WAV files? No problem, put them on there. FLAC files? Absolutely, let your audiophile freak flag fly. Fucking OGG Vorbis files played on this thing. Hell, you could put text files on here and read them.

(The firmware for these was also basically open-source, and people did even crazier stuff with them. By the time I retired my player, it could do gapless playback, crossfading, 10-band equalizing, normalization and more. I think I also changed the boot screen to a picture of Sailor Moon.)

But the magic didn't end at uploading music to the iHP-120—controlling this thing was more intuitive than any other device around at the time. All of your music was displayed on the player in whatever folder structure you loaded onto the device—navigating the music was as simple as using Windows Explorer. You had your standard play/pause, skip forward/back and volume controls on the front joystick, but what are the other buttons for?

Yeah. This thing was also a portable recorder. At anytime you could just hold down the Rec button and start recording with the onboard mic, or using an external input (more on that later). On the right side, an A-B Interval control. You ever wanted to just listen to one part of a song on repeat to learn the lyrics? Just hold down the button. Lastly a hold switch to disable control inputs while it was in your pocket—no accidentally pausing the music.

Okay, back to the external input mentioned before. The top of the iHP-120 is wild.

The top I/O panel of the iRiver iHP-120, with 4 jacks.

From right to left, you have a 3.5mm headphone jack (naturally), a 2.5mm microphone jack, the remote control port (more on this in a bit), and in white you have Line In/Out jacks which you could use to record as well as just plug in a second pair of headphones for a friend—jacks which support both 3.5mm analog input, as well as 3.5mm TOSLINK optical cables.

The TOSLINK 3.5mm male plug. A plug I only ever encountered on this device and the Sound Blaster X-Fi Titanium, a sound card I wrote a review of in 2009 which seems to still be up at PC Gamer and reading it now I don't know how any of my writing was ever published, let alone in print.

Chances are good you've never encountered this, it's phenomenally uncommon, and TOSLINK as a whole largely died with the emergence of HDMI—but this fucking mp3 player could both record and transmit fiber optic audio in uncompressed stereo or lossy 7.1 surround sound. In high school, I would plug the iHP-120 into our home theatre and listened to Porcupine Tree's Stupid Dream on repeat (side tangent, I'm pretty sad 5.1 album recording never really caught on, but the Dolby Atmos music format is better in every way, and I'm grateful Apple is bringing it into the mainstream).

"Okay, so we have an music player/text reader/voice recorder with optical audio, and basically every codec under the sun, what else could you go on about Erika?"

-you, the person reading this

THE REMOTE

Let me take you back to 2003. I was a depressed theatre kid teenager who would listen to Rooney on repeat on my Koss UR40s while crying over a girl who wanted nothing to do with me.

The Koss UR40 Headphones I wore like a fashion accessory everyday.

The other thing I wore everyday besides those headphones? Baggy cargo pants (it was acceptable at the time, I swear). Inside the right cargo pocket was my iRiver iHP-120, and clipped to the velcro flap of that cargo pocket was the iHP-115R remote control.

The iHP-120 remote unit

Every function of the iHP-120 could be controlled from this little fucker. Play/pause and stop buttons. Volume, skip track and recording are all here on rocker switches. You could even change the fucking bitrate of playback on this little thing, all without taking the actual mp3 player out of your pocket because the LCD screen on the remote has all the same info you'd get on the main unit.

The remote itself connected to the iRiver with that big plug you can see in the picture above (shamelessly stolen from Nathan Edwards who I worked with at PC Gamer in the late 2000s and only while writing this post discovered has already written a much more professional ode to the beauty of the iHP-120 this year).

You would plug your headphones into the remote, (or in my case you could also plug in your 1988 Chevrolet 2500 suburban's tape deck adaptor and have controls at your fingertips. No more distracted driving).

An image of a 1988 Chevorlet 2500 diesel Suburban. Not super relevant but god I miss my high school suburban. We would take the rear and middle benches out and put a queen-size mattress in the back, which 9 of my friends would ride on as we went to Little Caesar's for lunch. Also, cars just looked way fucking better back then.

I think I'm about done waxing nostalgic, but I really do miss the days of discrete devices—I kind of find myself fighting back against my smartphone. I have a camera I carry around, a pen and paper planner and writing notebook, and a kindle for reading. There's something appealing about not having my phone be my access to music either—rather, having a device that I just threw my music on and it plays it really well was rad. The iHP-120 was really fucking rad.

[copperbadge]

Thanks for the podcast recs! I'm looking forward to digging into some of these. On a related note, do you have a podcatcher or other app that you like to keep track of new episodes? I love podcasts but haven't found one that works for me. I was wondering if you had any recommendations?

Oh sure! So, for context, the only thing I regretted about changing from iOS to Android several years ago was losing the native iPhone podcatcher, which I loved. It did everything I wanted and nothing I didn't. Google's...whatever it does with audio was confusing and weird, so I bitched long and loud about it until @scifigrl47 told me to get PodcastAddict. Which is very similar but EVEN BETTER than the native iPhone app I loved so dearly. (I'm pretty sure PodcastAddict is available for both Android and iOS but couldn't swear to it.)

PodcastAddict is free; it has ad banners but no popups, and you can make a one-time payment of like $8 and the banners go away permanently. Recently I subscribed to the "premium" plan ($0.99/mo or $10/yr) that offers some extra features. I don't even really need the extras, I just feel strongly about supporting this app. It is worth way more than $10/yr to my mental health.

It’s relatively stripped-down and doesn't really interact with the rest of your phone which is exactly what I want, but it does one brilliant thing that the iPhone podcatcher didn't -- it takes RSS feeds. I was a patreon funder of several podcasts because I wanted to support their work, but I never got the pay-only episodes because you'd have to go to Patreon to get those and I just never remembered, plus Patreon's native player is garbage. With PodcastAddict, you can drop the patreon RSS feed into the app and it will feed the paywalled podcasts directly into your playlist.

So yeah, I love PodcastAddict, but I love it because it's very basic and like my music player (Musicolet) does not really interact with the outside world much. It downloads the podcasts, it plays the podcasts, it deletes the podcasts. There are a lot of options for customization, but at heart it's as close to an analog stereo tuned to your favorite radio station as it's possible to get.

[gubbles-owo]

y'all it is hyperfocus scream time

Alright so sporadic Arknights posting is cool and all, but tumble here is THE website for info dumping your weird fascinations unto the world. I worry enough about being annoying or overbearing all the damn time, so fuck it, it's time to scream about something I love. I've always loved music, and I'm fascinated by splitting it apart and studying it, figuring out what makes things tick. One of my favorite ways to do this is via stems-- that is, when a fully mastered track is broken down into audio files for separate instruments or parts: vocals, drums, bass, guitar, synths, all that. This way you get to hear all the lil intricacies you might've otherwise missed! Unfortunately most music out there doesn't have stems just lying around, but sometimes we're graced with the next best thing: instrumentals. There's a lot to it but TL;DR, we can pull some fancy phase shenanigans between a full and instrumental version of a track to isolate the vocals! It's not perfect, there'll be bits of the full mix poking through, but it's enough to catch some cool things you might not have otherwise heard. Buckle up bitches, cause I'm gonna take you for a ride. Today I'm gonna take you through some of the intricacies of one stellar vocal performance: Suisei's TEMPLATE.

Let's get started!

In fear of the boundless wrath of the copyright gods, I don't wanna post any bits of the og or instrumental raw, so I'll reference parts in the original with timestamps like this (0:00)! I highly recommend you first listen to the song in full, then reference the noted segments in the og as we go through the audio examples. I really want you to appreciate how cool this all is xD To give you an idea of what our instrumental phase cancelling sounds like, here's a short bit from verse one (0:15 - 0:25)

Neat, huh? Already we're hearing the slightest touch of reverb that mostly gets buried in the full mix. It's subtle, but it gives a sense of depth and space that'd be noticeable if missing. As far as performance goes, I love the tension of power in this, the swell of intensity followed by reeling it back in. It's subtle at first but it really evolves as the song progresses. Let's dive a bit further. Here's the vocals for the first chorus (0:34 - 0:59)

Alright now we've got some interesting stuff going on. I wanna stress here that Suisei is a phenomenal vocalist, and the sense of careful control over power and projection she's got starts to show here. Specific syllables are thrown out like a gut punch, and just as quickly retract in this delicate weaving of intensity, and it is so goddamn cool. We also get to hear some harmonies that accompany the lead vocals, but they're still a bit buried under that lead. What if I told you there's a way we could further isolate those? Another technical TL;DR but in addition to left and right, we can also split stereo audio into mid and sides. Most modern mixed music will have lead vocals straight up the center, while backing harmonies are either doubled or effected to trickle out to the sides, to give that lead room to breathe. So what does this same chorus sound like if we listen to just the sides?

Okay so right off the bat we hear this harmony that has a graceful snap upwards to its last note. To my extremely limited jp knowledge it's something like: Boku wa zutto kurushi kattan da That kattan da harmony is beautiful in its own right, and it's not something you get to hear on its own. (also if u know better than me plz correct me if i'm wrong on that jp for the love of god) And after that? It turns out the whole chorus has a layer underneath that's sung an octave below the lead. Like. Holy shit. To my limited knowledge I don't know if we ever get to hear Suisei sing this low in isolation, so this is wild to hear on its own. Her tone and inflection is way different here. Notice the power and projection isn't really there, how it's a bit more lowkey? It doesn't get in the way of the powerful lead, and helps round out the bottom end into a wall of sound when combined. You don't notice it much in the full track, but you'd definitely notice its absence. See, often with music I do this hyperfixation thing where I latch onto the tiniest details imaginable and listen to them over and over again, just to appreciate how enormously fucking cool they are. This low octave chorus is no exception. I heard it when first listening to the full track, but it was awesome to finally hear it in (relative) isolation. ...when excitedly showing this all to some friends, one of them said "gubs you are so fucking down bad." And you know what? She was goddamned right.

Moving onto something a lil smaller, there's an additional higher octave for a moment in verse two (1:11 - 1:15)

And the same thing with the sides isolated:

Simple things like this really help add texture and dynamics to a performance. A harmony that persists for an entire song is often more boring than having it weave in and out! It's especially effective in helping to emphasize certain lyrical bits. The 2nd chorus has different lyrics, but from an arrangement standpoint it's mostly the same as the first. Let's fast forward to the start of the bridge (1:42 - 2:01):

This part isn't particularly buried underneath the mix, but I thought it was worth isolating anyway. I really want to point out how beautiful the additional higher melody is in the second half.

Alright, it's time for one of my favorite parts of this track. Let's take a listen to the latter part of the bridge (2:10 - 2:20):

...do you hear that? Do you fucking hear that?? There is something incredible in here. Let's isolate it.

That last line, with the lead taken out of the mix, has not only a harmony sung an octave above, but also an octave below. Holy fuck. Okay. I need you to understand. Being able to sing the same line in 3!! THREE!!! Different octaves! IS FUCKING WILD. For fuck's sake the melody line itself nearly spans an octave in range!? God. My fucking god. I'm sorry for losing my shit over this (not sorry at all) but this demonstrates an incredibly flexible range, and that is not something you'll hear flexed quite as hard as it is here. I've only heard a handful of examples of this sort of thing before. I adore this shit so much. I am such a gay fucking loser oh my g od *ahem* alright let's wrap this up by listening to this fantastic outro segment (2:42 - 3:01):

Personally I tend to dislike when a slowed, half-tempo chorus is replaced by/followed with a full-speed section in an effort to ramp up intensity. Speed doesn't equate to power, and if anything, I feel that a slower feel is often more methodical and powerful. But here? The chorus to this song is sublime, and it feels like all three have been building up this boiling tension that finally explodes in this segment. It's so fucking good. And while she still demonstrates a more than competent grasp on how to project and emphasize, Suisei gets to let lose and go all out here. And for funsies, here's the backing harmony behind that whole segment:

I love shit like this. I cannot sing to save my life (god i wish i could) but over the years I've picked up a lot on how different vocalists construct their backing harmonies. It's not something most people think about, but carefully crafted layered vocals can really enhance, emphasize, and expand on a performance. They add so so much color and personality to an artist's style. Fuck y'all this shit is so cool.

_____________________________ Welp, that wraps it up for this one!! I hope you got to hear and learn something new, maybe pique or cultivate an appreciation for the intricacies that often bury themselves in the mixes you listen to. Or maybe you just thought it was neat, that's fine too xD I'd love to scream more and do similar breakdowns of other songs and vocalists, so I dunno, I may or may not already be plotting another one of these :3c