#the reverent silence

[ineedchamomile]

THE REVERENT SILENCE, Character Intro #1 - Nadia Yefremovna

An officer of the Blackfylde Investigation Bureau's First Company, Nadia is an Automaton who gained the ability to use Reverence after a particular event several years after she came into being. She was given a crystallized heart by a mechanist who saved her and indirectly gave her her Reverence, but the nature of the heart she was given is rather unique. Her Reverence allows her to negate the effects of negative energy, but since her heart used to belong to someone else, her power is far weaker than what it once was...

-

It's finally time for me to introduce the cast of my upcoming webcomic (yay)! Over the next few months, I'll be posting artwork of the main cast and I also hope to share some behind-the-scenes stuff like character sheets and production notes.

The next character intro will be up next Tuesday, but in the meantime, what are your first impressions of Nadia?

[swordmaid]

suddenly filled with the vision of brienne shaving jaime that I keel over then explode, leaving only a crater and my shoes behind

[mycological-mariner]

I love museum dates as much as the next guy, but what about archive dates? Where you both sit in an archive room with a letter or artefact or document and pour over it together, this piece of history between you as you feel the weight of all that time weigh heavy on you, some intangible thing that you get the privilege to hold, for just a short time, with someone you care about

[mrschwartz]

Alex Turner for OOR Magazine (October 2022)

Conducted in August 20th 2022 by Willem Bemboom

Alex in the sun on a terrace. Leather jacket, classic shades, a big head of hair in desperate need of a handful of Brylcreem. He almost looks like a time-traveller, someone from another dimension, unmoved by the sounds of the city in the distance and the swelling lunch crowd around us.

He talks slowly and dragging, as if the battery is almost flat.  His pauses in thought are numerous and stretched out, sometimes to determine what he DOES want to say, more often to think about what he does NOT want to say. Apparently he is so used to intelligent or difficult questions, that the easy ones throw him off. What are you listening to? What has changed? What do you think yourself is the most beautiful lyric? Endless silences, you can almost hear the brain cracking. But they are by no means painful. The lesson taken from previous interviews - and in fact the essence of Arctic Monkeys: just let Alex Turner meditate, that's where eventually the best things come from.

The sunglasses meanwhile are being taken on and off every minute. With wide eyes full of wonder Turner turns the casual things lying on the table into a journey of discovery. OOR's old trusted dictaphone for example. 'Reliable stuff', he judges. ‘At worst eats your tape one time, but such a device will not betray you. Two buttons, on, off, record, play. You don't need more options. I want to start working with these things a bit more.”

He weighs the device for a moment, as if he is testing a peach or tomato at the local fruit & veg. A mysterious short laugh follows. Who knows what goes on in that head.

The Car as a record makes an analogous impression, either way in terms of technique and instrumentation.

Right? Texture wise for sure. Old instruments, string arrangements. The ideas are kneaded to songs with human hands. Although this time we also have a Moog.

And the subjects as well seem to come from a different time. Classic Hollywood, faded glory, but also Cold War stuff. In various songs there are spying elements sneaking around.

That’s for sure what I’m doing in the new songs. Think of Gene Hackman in The Conversation, you have to search in circle of people as such.Vague surveillance stuff, listening devices [focuses on the recorder again]. A bit like how this conversation is also being recorded, haha.

Social media seems completely absent, you are far from sketching a contemporary time frame. People talk on the phone together.

Good point. I imagine that phone in Big Ideas like that, on the wall, with a turntable. It is indeed an analog world, there is no apping or anything like that. On the first song on our first record I sing about a phone that is being unlocked [The View From The Afternoon]. You had to press the asterisk key to avoid accidentally turning on your cell phone. We still play that song every night, I’ve now sang it so often that I’m not thinking about those lyrics at all. A few days ago I did have a clear mind and suddenly I realised: gosh, this is not how phones are any more! Back in the days I was more up-to-date with my technological references, on AM there are still text messages and such. That's gone now. I have gone back in time, it seems.

Your previous album took place at the moon. Where - and especially when - is The Car set?

Hm. [long silence] You know what, I really don't have any idea whatsoever. Even for Tranquility Base I now wonder if it all took place at the moon. That sort of thing reveals itself only later, sometimes even a lot later. The music triggers something in me, I build on the atmosphere and the sound, and I just let The Idea run wild - though I refine the lyrics endlessly after they get into shape. But the source? Dunno, that can't be guided or be explained. I did try to steer away a bit more from the sci-fi idiom than on the previous one. Whether it succeeded is question number two. For some reason there’s somehow always science fiction seeping through.

You now refer in several numbers to old movies and showbiz, like the musical Anything Goes, 1930s Broadway, with music by Cole Porter. New fascination?

Hmmm, no. By the way, it is indeed lifted from a movie. Indiana Jones And The Temple Of Doom begins with the song Anything Goes, from that musical, sung in Chinese. Nice opening, although I’m certainly not the biggest Indiana Jones fan. I suddenly thought about it, so it ended up in that song. That's how it goes with most things. Who knows where it comes from and what it means. It's suddenly there.

Is Sculptures Of Anything Goes a New York song? Apart from the Broadway link you sing about 'city life 09', the period you lived in Brooklyn, and ‘Village coffee mornings, with not long since retired spies’.

As in: written in New York? No, I haven't been to New York in ages. The Village is in there…. I think this is another of those science fiction things. You've been nervously playing around with that empty cassette box for 15 minutes now, and I’m now imagining that it contains City Life 09. I’m fond of the idea there will be a city life cartridge in the future, a simulation that you can board. I’m imagining a full box of those cartridges, from 1929 to 1959 to 1969 to 1979 to 1989 and so on. That’s because I think there should be intervals of ten years to notice a substantial difference in such a huge city. And the 2009 one is missing from that lyric, it's inside the machine because it's used most often. Whether it's also refers to my time in New York… No idea. It's purely a bit of fantasy.

Let’s swap the fantasy for the facts for a little bit: where and when did you start making this record?

Even before the lockdowns, right away after the Tranquility Base tour in South America. In April and May 2019 I wrote the first attempts of new songs, we already recorded some bits in late 2019, but that attempt led to nothing. Only after the lockdowns we came back together again, last summer, in Butley Priory, an old monastery at the coast of Suffolk. No one knew we were there, it was a remote place. It reminded me of our first record, when we went from the madhouse to the countryside for a while as well. We never did that again ever since, until now. Recording a record in England also was a while ago, same counts for a summer album. So there we were again, at the English countryside, as a rrrrock band! [big eyes and a rolling rrrrr] No distractions, like in the city. Extra focus, no prying eyes. All in the same zone. Good morning, you know.

We will come back at that ‘rock band’ part for a bit later. What did a day in Suffolk look like for the rest?

Oh, every morning we got trumpeted out of our beds with a reveille. And a while after a bell was ringing: go to work, lazy bastards! Thereafter a Powerpoint presentation with schedules and tactics. No, just joking, it was the opposite. Very calm and relaxed, everything in our own tempo. These days I find it essential to take the time. That’s because every project has to search and find its own way. As a maker you also have to let a piece of work go its own way. During the summer of 2019 I read a book about movie editing, In The Blink Of An Eye by Walter Murch. Although movie editing is not my discipline, I did get interesting things out of it anyway, there are parallels with how I put together a record these days. Editing usually involves cutting out bad bits. The question that immediately arises: what is a bad bit? Are there bad bits at all? This Sir Murch calls the process of editing the discovery of a path through all the available material. The more you shot, the more possible paths there are. And because I had quite a lot of ideas, more than ever actually, which all wanted to exist, it was extra important to especially follow the feeling. Sometimes I got a direction in mind, and then the piece itself drags you in the opposite direction anyway. It has other ideas. It lives, it is an entity. Let it go. That’s how it went now as well.

You keep on avoiding the meaning of your lyrics. Is the writing of it not a conscious process then?

Hmmm, that always comes last anyway. I am endlessly adjusting and rewriting. When we were working on the music in Suffolk, I hardly sang on top of it. I do believe that at this moment in time I write down what I am experiencing more directly. I'm a bit more open, more honest, apparently inspired by four guys who are just standing together in a room making music.

What do you consider your favourite find on The Car?

Oh… I forgot to bring my cheat sheet. I’ve got a folder with notes, which I planned on bringing with me. But it also feels a little know-it-all and self-conscious to start giving a lecture from my own notes here. My best line… I wouldn’t know! I simply don’t know all the lyrics by heart yet. [long pause] I think ‘Big Ideas’ as a whole is a very accomplished song.

Ah, with the ‘hysterical scenes’ that are reminiscent of a band just breaking through. ‘We had ‘em out of their seats, waving their arms and stomping their feet’ – that’s where the echo of Monkeymania is audible.

Strange times.

Or just The Beatles. ‘Clap your hands and stomp your feet’, is what Lennon sometimes shouted from the stage…

Hm, yeah. No. Here I imagine sort of more like a movie producer giving someone a call. Or something like that.

Big Ideas is full of melancholy – and that counts for more songs in general.

It’s not just in the words, you know. Yes, so that’s how it works for me: the words arise from the feeling the music evokes. The melody supplies the words and ideally they complement each other. In that way, the things it makes you say are indeed not conscious. It purely revolves around what the music allows you to say.

“Over and out, it’s been a thrill”, you sing on Big Ideas. Hello You, Jet Skis On The Moat and Perfect Sense also contain “goodbyes” and “goodnights”. Are you saying goodbye to something?

Yeah, I think that’s fair. That all has to do with where I arrived in life at the moment. I’m 36, the band exists for about twenty years, including the whole run-up. So I’ve been in the band for more than half of my life. You leave things behind, while the clock keeps ticking. People, places, your younger self. Time. Though that’s not necessarily a bad thing, you get new things in return. But it’s human nature to sometimes look back on what has been, what’s behind you. Though I’m pretty good at leaving things behind.

Like loud guitar music for example.

[big eyes] Ha!

The rrrrrrrrock band you just mentioned is not the same as the one from 2006 anymore.

Haha, not on the record, no! But on stage we just keep on rocking, that all co-exists. But you know what’s the funny thing? We could very well still have made a loud guitar record after all. If the music had asked for it, I think I would have obediently followed. When we finished touring in 2019, everything pointed in that direction. Much louder than Tranquility Hotel, in any case. But that started to shift towards a different direction and that’s why we took a break from it at the time. I was afraid I would start forcing things. And sometimes you just have to accept the fact you can’t go back to the riffs from ten years ago. At the end of the tour I knew what kind of songs I wanted to do, with the lights of the stage still in my eyes and the thundering roars of the audience in my ears. Big, loud guitars should have been part of that. That’s what I’m gonna do! I even put on my motorcycle boots to get a hold of that mood. But that didn’t feel right in the end, as said. You’re not that person anymore, your music wants to go in a different direction. Then I can only follow that.

Put the Arctic Monkeys who were recording at the English countryside in 2006 next to the band working at Suffolk last summer. Not to see what has changed, but what hasn’t changed?

Well, everything has changed. [2 minutes of silence while you can almost hear a movie playing in his head] … except for the countryside and England, haha! I did find it more fun this time though. Maybe because right now we finally know what we’re doing. Yes, that has remained the same. The only reason we now can not make a loud guitar record in all peace and comfort, is because we’re still Arctic Monkeys. Everyone has grown up, the essence of the band has grown with us. The faces are a bit more round, the boys call their children instead of their parents, but the feeling remains the same. Life itself happened – and not in an unpleasant way. It’s all good, everything. Yes, it’s fine.

Why did you have more fun now than back then? Did that 20 year old kid that recorded ‘Whatever People Say I Am…’ not know what he was doing?

Not what happened to him, no. It was a great time, but oh dear, so much stress! Now I’m completely relaxed in everything I do. Looking back at 2006, everything was so… tight! My guitar was hanging just below my chin, the strap was almost pinched around my back. That example alone. I let the guitar nicely hang nowadays. And sometimes I even leave it in its stand. The schedules are looser, the people are looser, the music is looser. Less heavy, not as frenetic and whaaaargh! It’s fitting better in its own skin. Just like ourselves. The jacket is hanging loosely unbuttoned. I’m sitting behind a grand piano in the corner. And still it feels like Arctic Monkeys, because we’re still walking the same path, however strange the path winds. The same timeline and the same principles. The path, following the music, is the constant factor. 15 years ago we followed our instinct as young lads and The Record is what resulted from it. Now we’re still doing that, and this time that record is The Car.

Oh yeah, The Car. What kind of car is it?

Just a car.

Does it stand for anything?

No, it’s standing on a roof. The cover photo was taken by Matthew Helders, our drummer. When I saw that photo a few years ago, I immediately knew it had the potential to be an album cover for the band. There’s not just spies and goodbyes in the lyrics, if you listen closely you can hear a few cars. And after [raises voice] Tranquility Base Hotel + Casino the temptation to call something ‘The Car’ is simply too big. It is what it is.

So just a car.

Yep. And that car on the cover in particular.

Where was the photo taken?

If I’m not mistaken, in Los Angeles.

Ah, Los Angeles. There you’re nothing without a car. What kind do you drive?

I don’t own a car. I’m back in London now and it’s just not practical there. No car…

Where did you used to go on holidays as a kid?

Oh, eh, Eastbourne, on the south shore. With my grandparents on the Dotto Train, one of those tourist carts along the beach. But how did we suddenly end up here?

I wondered about this when I heard The Car, the song. Nicely melancholic, you sing about past holidays, falling asleep at the back seat.

But that doesn’t take place in Eastbourne [rolls his eyes]. But where does it take place, I can hear you think… In a parallel universe full of espionage and science fiction, haha!

Sounds exciting. Have you ever tried writing a script yourself?

No. The kind of stories I tell are mostly… based on the music and the melodical ideas, as I already explained. Those bring forth the story. If I wouldn’t have that, I would struggle. I would like to learn this though, sometime, one day. But I’m not working on it now, it’s a whole different skill to the one I’ve currently got on board. Never say never, we’ll see. But definitely not tomorrow [thinks for a bit, laughs]. Tomorrow’s Pukkelpop. There’s no time for drafting scripts. Although it is a world I would like to roam about, one I’d like to explore. At the Priory I had an old 16mm camera with me, one that fits in the palm of your hand and you have to crank up yourself. Still not even close to Hollywood. But ah well, that’s a hobby.

What music are you listening to yourself at the moment?

[two minutes of silence] I used to be able to always draw a straight line from what I was listening to right to the new record, that’s different now, I think. No more adding this, this, this and this and you’ve got the new Monkeys. It’s not as clear what those things are this time, not even for me.

If you could go to Record Palace at the opposite of Paradiso with 50 euros right now, what would you pick from there?

Oh wow, that place is amazing! I actually should stop by there later. We’ve been so busy fine-tuning the show, this morning I only took a walk in the park for a bit… Lovely morning.

But at the moment you’re listening to…

Oh man… After finishing the record, nothing for a while, for a few months. Now it’s starting up again a bit. Headphones on… listening to things. What do I want to share here right now?

I’ll just write down Nookie by Limp Bizkit.

Oh no. Is that a threat? Alright, in that case do… Nat King Cole! The song ‘Where Did Everybody Go’. Why? That’s why.

At There’d Better Be A Mirrorball you actually sound a bit like Nat King Cole. Coincidence?

Ha, that’s nice! Eh, yes, coincidence. On the other hand: what’s a coincidence?

You sing a lot in falsetto, you croon, sometimes you’re channelling Bowie. Are you still looking for your voice or are you finally coming close?

Always in search of! You look for a manner of singing that guides the music the easiest way. A way that’s in tune with the feeling you wanna convey. That’s the hardest part… no, that’s what you’re aiming for, that connection.

Connection with?

With what you can’t really grasp. And can’t understand. Or can’t express into words. How you as a normal little person can become part of that wonder, the music. There’s a technical component to it, by practicing a lot I can reach a higher pitch or hold a note better. Those are means. The purpose is something bigger though. There’s this great song on Sinatra at the Sands, 'Don’t Worry About Me', that he introduces as one of the best songs ever. In one part of a verse he sings a step-up note, bigger and bigger, that fills all gaps in the notes just to get to the next step. It’s off, but because of that it’s actually perfectly right. It stands out. That’s why I call magic. That’s what it’s about. Getting completely lost in that feeling and getting to a place where everything is right. Even when it’s not right. Even more so when it’s not right. Then you know it’s right.

[urahara-lovepage]

honestly fuck aizen but you know how insane and sicknasty it would have been if kubo gave him a better motive than “loneliness” or at least explained it better. you’re not getting me w some sob story abt how he had no equal so he committed mass murder and colonized a place. that’s straight nonsense.

[honeyedlashton]

goodbye goodbye goodbye, you were bigger than the whole sky 💛💜🩵🧡🌈

[eliias-bouchard]

okay last month [aka a couple weeks ago] when i asked you about your rw ocs you said winter. has killed before . who did they kill (apologies for taking forever to ask this followup question i got nervous <3)

he's killed technically 3 people, but i only count two of them

Reverent Chorus, The Silence Calls was an iterator in his local group who went fucking crazy. they were basically just trying to kill as many iterators as they could, and were probably the cause of multiple other deaths in his local group. when chorus' attention fell on winter, he decided it was finally time to take care of the problem and killed him.

then theres Cycles Within Cycles, a sliverist who i think mightve wanted winter to stop working on the solution? im not entirely sure but i think cycles was willing to do a lot to stop winter (possibly cycles learned of winters' plan to manipulate No Peaceful Ending into ascending herself and watned to stop that?), so winter killed him.

i have no idea how winter did that btw. i presume he trained a slugcat to deliver a neuron to them which wouldve been infected and then killed them? probably by halting the process that allows them to use water, causing slag buildup and eventually collapse. he couldve also delivered a malicious pearl tho - a white pearl dialogue is "This is a malicious pearl. The data is meaningless, but the way it is formatted would cause older machinery to get stuck in an infinite recursion trying to read it. Luckily, I am more sophisticated than that." so he couldve used that depending on the age of chorus and cycles.

the third technical kill is No Peaceful Ending, who he manipulated into ascending herself. i dont count her because he technically didnt actually kill her, and she came back (altho she came back wrong)

[mintmentos]

The final arc of clone wars had no right being as cinematic as that but I’m so glad they went off like that

[minnyminerva10]

Speak No Evil

"...often, I wondered why so many people found her lovely. Then I realized however she may have been tempted; she never spoke harshly to anyone or about anyone. 'Living or dead. That moment of frozen lucidity astounded and confounded me. It always will. I do believe in angels, however earthbound they may seem."

Unknown

[oatbugs]

we feel too big for our own good

[olliedollie1204]

where the FUCK are all the succession people on my dash

[ineedchamomile]

THE REVERENT SILENCE, Character Introduction #6 - Talia Steele

The counselor of Dawnrise Counseling Associates, Talia usually handles important business matters in her boss's stead if necessary and also handles major business decisions. The youngest child of a wealthy entrepreneur, Talia and her older sister were taught to approach all of their business affairs in a way that would get them the necessary results. Despite her serious and no-nonsense demeanor, you might sometimes find Talia indulging in some afternoon tea... Talia can manipulate any sound around her within a certain radius.

-

I really need to get back on track with introducing these guys lol

I'm continuing the introductions of the antagonists from my upcoming webcomic and I hope to be finished with the entire main cast in the next few months. Hopefully I can make some time to work on the webcomic itself because I lowkey need to get back on track with that too 😅

What are your first impressions of Talia? 🐈

[initforthecache]

I will never forget the day I watched the 13th botw memory for the first time as a baby zelda fan. Rocked my world.

[dixvinsblog]

Un jour, un poème – Samira Sidri -Tous les mots mâchés dans le silence

Tous les mots mâchés dans le silenceTous les maux de l’impertinente absenceCreusent au fond des yeux des sillons,Rides sans couleurs à l’orée du temps. Toutes les portes closes sur les non-ditsToutes les lettres, les messages incomprisNous apprennent l’ordre du verbe à l’enversPiège à rebours, émaillé de vers et de revers. Tous les jours ne sont pas bons à conter,Moutons noirs des nuits…

[rreids]

WANT • S. REID X READER

smut (mdni, you will be blocked); needy spencer; praise; fem!reader; oral (f receiving); possessive wording; ~1.1k words

Spencer was, for lack of better word, whipped.

Morgan would say pussy-whipped, but Spencer wasn’t fond of that. Just because he liked you, would stop what he’s doing at the drop of a hat for you… it was for more than your body.

Even if it was beautiful.

He could remember every curve, every scar, every wrinkle, envision it clearly in his mind's eye. 

God, he missed you.

“Hey, boy genius,” Morgan calls, and he snaps back to attention. “Staring at your file won’t get it done,”

“I know,” Spencer grumbles, going to make more coffee. He sends you a text — miss you. — when he does. He’s not one for that, preferring calls and time together, and knows you’ll piece it together.

It’s an excruciating hour and a half that it takes to get the paperwork done and put in and to drive back to your shared apartment.

He relaxes even as he puts his key into the lock, door opening to the smell of your body wash.

His eyes find you first, dressed in one of his shirts, hair still wet.

“Oh.”

He lets it click shut behind him, eyes trailing up and down you shamelessly.

“Missed me?” You tease, and he nods. You wrap him in a hug, clingy as ever. He melts into you.

With you wrapping him in your arms, he has no choice but to stumble to the couch and let you sit him down and straddle him, lightly tracing the smile lines that won’t fade as he looks at you.

“Pretty boy,” you coo, and he smiles more. “What’s going on in your head?”

He makes a show of pretending to think and grab the thought before meeting your eyes. “Thinking about how gorgeous you are,”

You beam at him, and he wills the image to sear itself into his memory.

You’re so warm and soft above him, just supple skin and delicious smells that make his head spin with need, nothing on but his shirt and a pair of flimsy panties. He can feel everything, and it drives him insane, fingers twitching against your thighs. 

“Spence,” you whisper. “Words, baby,”

“You’re so soft,” he exhales quickly and you cock a brow, letting him trail his fingers to your inner thigh, where he draws circles.

He wants to pull your panties to the side so badly. But he knows to wait.

“Yeah? I moisturized today.” You give him a smile, sultry and enticing, and then you tug your (his) shirt off, pressing your breasts into his chest. “Feel. Soft, right?”

He obeys, trailing his fingertips so lightly it raises goosebumps. His mind feels like it’s full of cotton. “Yeah–yeah, soft,” he clears his throat, wanting to nibble hickeys into the skin. With effort, he tears his eyes away and to your face. “And so gorgeous. Like always.”

You hum, tap a finger against his temple. He leans into your hand, desperate for the touch. “Thank you, baby,”

He stares at you in silence, forcing back thoughts of what he wants. 

“Wanna prove how much you missed me?”

“Please,” his tone is almost reverent, and he should be ashamed how easily he folds for you; how he wants to be on or in you, always; how he wants and wants and wants, and how it’s never enough; how he’s happiest with your smell and touch overwhelming his senses.

“Show me.”

Spencer slips to the floor on his knees, pressing a kiss to the side of your knee. He crawls his hands up slowly, lets them hook in the waistband of your panties and tug. He thumbs the wet spot before dropping them to the ground, and he knows his eyes are blown out when he stares at your beautiful pussy, glistening with your need for him.

He exhales shakily and shuffles closer, presses a kiss to your thigh before licking a stripe up your core. He groans at the taste, shutting his eyes when you whimper at the sensation — the sight of your chest heaving, eyes glazed over already, head thrown back as far as you could while keeping your gaze trained on him… it was too much.

Spencer circles your clit with his tongue before kissing it, letting your thighs squeeze around him with an eager moan.

He shifts a little lower, nose bumping into your clit as he dips his tongue into you. You shudder, whimper his name like he’s helping you see heaven, and he sighs, sloppily licking into you.

He normally has good technique but he’s already so drunk off your taste, ears buzzing and face burning hot, red with desire and loss of air.

Spencer only whines when you tug on his hair and yank him back, reveling in the way it stings.

“Breathe, Spence,”

He nods, head swimming. He wants — god, he wants you spread open on his fingers and tongue, quivering under the stimulation, sweating and sobbing from how good it feels; he wants you to help him get off, wants you to fuck him until he can barely breathe and it aches to be touched; he wants you to mark him and he wants to be called yours.

“‘m yours,”

“Hm?” It comes off airy and whiny as he sucks your clit back into his mouth.

He takes a bit to answer, pulling back breathlessly. “Tell me I’m yours,”

“You’re mine,” you tell him, tugging his hair and shoving him back into you. He whimpers. Loudly. “You’re my good boy, you’ll do what I say, yeah?”

He nods vigorously, getting sloppier and sloppier, more whimpers and vibrations into you than coordinated movement. 

“Spence. My love,” you gasp, arching up into him. “Make me cum,”

Spencer nips your clit, just enough for you to shriek and melt under him after tensing. 

“Mine, my pretty fuckin’ girl,” he’s incoherent, babbling. “So sweet and pretty, always ready for me, such a sweet girl… tastes as good as you look, as you talk,” Spencer locks eyes with you finally, and he swears he could cum from how dazed you are alone.

You wail as he finally tips you over the edge, and Spencer can’t stop. Not when you taste so good, and all he can smell is your arousal coating his chin and your thighs, when you’re shaking around him and all he wants is for you to do it again.

It takes you yanking him away from you for his mind to clear a little from the fog, breathing heavily and eyes trained on your pussy until you guide him to look at you.

“Enough, baby,” you coo, rubbing your slick off his chin. “Give me a breather,”

He whines.

“Pussy-whipped,” you coo, and he can only nod. “Just give me a second and you can have me again,”

Spencer licks his lips. “Thank you.”

fuck it we ball (not proofread which.. expect that. when it comes to my works). i need him so bad. gif is my own :)

[homunculus-argument]

Just read about the study that looked into the connection between the sound resonance of human-marked caves and the location of cave paintings. They discovered that the cave paintings were most commonly located in the areas with the clearest resonance, the best acoustics. The ideal places to sing. Scientist are bound by a duty to commit to facts, to stick with what is known and can be known. They aren't allowed to just wildly speculate, jump to conclusions, or romanticise the connections they make. But I am not a man of science and I can say whatever I want.

We called them "cavemen" at first, when we knew even less of them than what we do now. They were hunter-gatherers, nomadic people who wouldn't have stayed in one place for long, not even a place as good as a cave. A cave is a maw full of blackness, cold and dark, unless you bring fire. They brought fire with them, that we know. They painted the walls in light of torches, beasts that appear to move in the flickering light. They painted the walls in places where one could best sing.

A cave is a place of darkness, unless you bring fire. And quiet - perhaps save for the bats - unless you bring your voice. What did they sing about? The same songs every year, that one sings that time of year When We Return To The Cave, or new ones made up on the spot? Were they sacred? They must have been. One does not go into an unfamiliar cave alone, there are too many ways you may die. You go together, someone shows it to you. Brings you to the paintings to sing. To sing in the dark underworld that looks nothing like the world above, and where even the weakest voices carry, amplifying like nowhere else in the world that they knew.

Is that what we still yearn for? To go with your kin to the hollow halls of sacred places, where the echo compels you to reverent silence, until it's time to sing? To hear the familiar tune, amplified by the echos of stone, urged to join the song just as wolves are called to join the howl? Our urge just as natural as theirs, like migrating birds yearn to leave and return?

Why else do we have churches, but for our yearning to sing in the caves?