#they r so in love and I love when they struggle to reckon with that

[errythinisblue]

maybe one where mason has been struggling alot? maybe he’s having a hard time at training and the start of the season hasn’t been working out how he wants it to so you surprise him at a game with his family and then you head home and have a takeaway for dinner and then cuddles on the couch leads to the softest most loving sex ever

This request was E V E R Y T H I N G, thank you so much for sending it to me! I loved writing it (and it shows judging how long it turned out!)! I really hope you’ll like it! 🤍

Mr Goalscorer

Mason Mount x Y/N

Summary: You love Mason with all your heart, and you’re set on demonstrating him that, both “on” and “off” the pitch.

Warnings: things get quite steamy at the end, you’ve been warned!

gif credits to @packjoker

Each time the moment of international duty came, you weren’t really happy to let Mason go; the days you’d have to spend apart weighed on you very much and you’d miss him dearly while he was away. But this time you were happy to let him go, well kind of.

The season didn’t start in the best way for him at Chelsea, and that was taking a toll on him you could tell. He was so dedicated, always busy training and keeping himself in the best of shapes; but on his face you could read that he felt like everything he did still wasn’t enough.

Your feelings about the whole situation were confirmed one night, a little over a week ago, when Mason came home from training exhausted and didn’t speak a word to you until you begged him to. In that moment you saw him for what he really was, or what he was trying to be; he acted strong, as if nothing was wrong, but when he started talking to you, you discovered that in fact it was just an act. In reality he was pained about the situation at the club, pained that he wasn’t playing like he wanted to, and afraid there was nothing more he could offer to his team.

That same night, while he laid on the sofa with his head in your lap, you reminded him that he could always come to you when something was bothering him. That same night, the night before he was supposed to leave with the National Team, you pushed him to do his best, putting your feelings aside and just thinking about what he needed the most: trusting himself and his talent once again, something you were sure he could do while he was away, with the help of his teammates.

-

“Do you reckon he can spot us up here??” you anxiously asked Jaz, biting your nails both in fear that he couldn’t see you were all there, ending up with no surprise at all, and in nervousness for the game that was about to start.

“First thing, stop biting those poor nails! You look like my brother when you do it…” she laughed, always keeping her hand on her bump, “Second, we’re pretty close to the pitch so, he’s gonna spot us for sure, don’t worry… our surprise won’t be ruined!” she added, taking your hand in hers.

Jaz’ words seemed to have eased your nerves; you planned this surprise as soon as Mason left your home for Saint George’s Park, and you wanted everything to be perfect of course; you wanted Mason to know you always had his back, always. You didn’t tell him anything, but you and Tony made sure you got some nice seats, not far behind England’s bench, so that Mason could easily see you there and feel your full support.

“I hope you’re right!” you gently smiled at her, leaning your head on her shoulder while Summer sat in your lap and played with the rings on your fingers.

While you were busy playing with the little girl and talking to her mother about her pregnancy, the English players were taking the usual walk around the pitch before the game; people were slowly making their way to their seats, meaning the stadium was still empty, mostly, and quite silent too.

All of a sudden, as Summer saw his favourite uncle getting closer, she shouted at the top of her little lungs for him.

“Uncle Maceyyy!” she screamed as she jumped on your lap, waving at him with her arms.

“Shhh Summer!” Jaz shushed her daughter out of instinct, raising a finger to her own lips, “Uncle Mason doesn’t know we’re here, it’s a surprise!”

“No wait, let her,” Debbie said chuckling, “he has to know we’re here one way or another!”

Mason’s ears perked up upon hearing the echo of a little voice that sounded extremely familiar, and he turned around in a haste, trying to figure out where that voice was coming from; he was sure that his mind was playing tricks on him since he knew no one would be coming to the game that night, so he just shook his head and kept on walking with Ben by his side while they chatted about the match.

As they neared the sideline, Mason laughed at something his teammate said and casually threw his head back, the crinkles by his eyes visible from where you were seated; you smiled upon seeing him so relaxed, thinking that being with the boys at camp was doing him some good, before you turned your attention back to the little girl in your lap.

“That can’t be…” Mason whispered, a shocked expression on his face upon spotting some familiar faces.

“What?” Ben asked dumbfounded, looking in the same direction his friend was looking too, “Wait, y/n’s here?? Your family’s here?? But you told me they couldn’t attend the game?”

“Yeah that’s what I thought too…” he smiled as his eyes were contoured by the usual crinkles once again, as they settled on a precise spot on the stands.

“Well that’s a nice surprise man!” his friend said, patting him on his shoulder.

“Yeah…yeah it is…” Mason chuckled, his heart picking up its pace upon seeing you all there.

“Uhm girls… I think he saw us!” Debbie said out of the blue, pointing at Mason, who had his eyes fixed on all of his family, but just on one person in particular, you.

“Oh…” you breathed once you moved your gaze from Summer to Mason; your eyes locked in those warm brown ones you adored and your mind went blank, “Yeah… he definitely saw us!” you added as you raised your hand and waved at him, finally releasing the breath you didn’t even know you were holding up until that moment.

-

England vs Germany was a real rollercoaster of emotions! What started like a pretty dull game, ended up like a thrilling one in the second half: especially from the moment Mason was subbed on. He entered the pitch full of energy, and played wonderfully; he not only changed the way England was playing, he even scored a goal himself!

You jumped up and down with Summer in your arms, and you both screamed his name when you saw Mason running towards where you were standing, pointing at you while he celebrated his goal. That only made you want to hug him even more, as you were sure everything was going to be easier for him now.

The moment finally came, as you were waiting for him with his family. He sneaked up behind you and wrapped his strong arms around your waist, making you jump from the scare.

“Mase oh my God!” you laughed however, happy to be in his arms after all those days, even if he almost gave you a heart attack.

“Don’t you dare act surprised now!” he giggled, brushing his nose on the skin of your neck and inhaling your perfume that he missed so much, “I’m the one who should be surprised, why didn’t you tell me you were coming??” he almost whined, leaning his chin on the top of your head, eyes closed as he kept his arms firmly around your body while he relished in the feeling of being close to you once again.

“Because if she told you, it wouldn’t have been a surprise then, genius!” Lewis chided, sticking his tongue out at his little brother.

“Always the funny one you are…” he playfully rolled his eyes at him, “Hey where’s Summer??”

“Boo uncle Macey!!!” she jumped at his side, clinging to his right leg in an attempt to scare him.

“I saw you! You didn’t scare me missy!” Mason laughed, removing himself from you and giving his full attention to the little girl.

“That’s not true! You’re veeery scared!” She shook her head while her uncle took her in his arms, her little ponytails dancing in the air, “Very very scared!”

“Am I??”

“Yes you are!” you turned around to give support to the poor girl in Mason’s hold, “You jumped out of your skin! You can’t tell me otherwise!”

“Hey whose side are you on???” Mason whined, making puppy eyes at you.

“Summer’s of course!” you winked at him, before you high fived his niece, “Us girls gotta stick together!”

“Oh I see how it is!” Mason pouted, before he tickled the both of you, laughing uncontrollably, “You teamed up against me during the game, I saw you two from the pitch!”

The bickering went on under the stare of his family, all of them looking at you with their eyes full of love and their wide smiles; and just as if you felt their stares on you, you both turned around and resumed talking with them. You started from congratulating him on the goal, and went on talking about football and how the camp was this time, all of this while you went to your cars.

After you said your goodbyes to his family you walked to car, with Mason holding tightly on your hand, almost as if he was afraid you would vanish in the air if he let go.

“Give me the keys babe.” he asked while you were helping him putting his bags in the hood of your car.

“I thought I was driving?” you told him dumbfounded, closing the hood of the car before you reached for your car keys in your purse.

“I’m not letting you drive this late at night,” he tutted, his hand opened wide and waiting for the keys in front of you, “especially not with this traffic. Keys now.”

“Okay okay!” you playfully rolled your eyes at him, secretly loving how careful he always was with you, “Here are your keys Mr Goalscorer. Happy now?”

“Yes,” he smiled softly as he closed the space between the two of you, “but I’d be way happier if you’d give me a kiss. You still didn’t give me one.”

“Well I didn’t think it was appropriate to smooch your face in front of your family, Mase…”

“Since when do you care??” he frowned, his voice turning to that cute, whiny tone he always used with you, knowing full well you couldn’t resist it.

“I always care.” you sassed him, “But I just saw you score the hottest goal ever… so, you get why I didn’t think it was appropriate?”

“I think I do…” his signature smirk appeared on his face, before he lowered his face and pressed his lips to yours, “Let’s go home yeah?”

“I thought you’d never ask…”

“Do you wanna order some take out on our way home?” Mason asked while he was reversing and driving out of the Red Parking, his free hand going instinctively on your right thigh.

“I don’t really feel like cooking right now so…” you said as you leaned your head against the headrest, turning to your right to look at your boyfriend, “Why not?”

“What are you in the mood for?” he looked in both directions as he made his way out of the car park, while the answer to his question appeared right in front of your eyes.

“I’d really like some Wagamama you know?” you jumped in your seat at the sight, pointing with your finger at the restaurant.

“You really can’t resist it, can you??” he chuckled at your enthusiasm, “Here, take my phone and order what you want, in that way we won’t have to wait too long for it to be delivered once we’re home…” he added, giving you his phone to do so.

“Fine,” you happily grinned at him, searching in the menu for the best option, “uhm what do I order for you??”

“I trust you with that decision,” he told you as his eyes were glued on the road in front of him, “just, nothing too spicy please… I’d like something more on the sweet side tonight…”

“Okay, nothing too spicy…” you spoke while you scrolled on his phone until you found the perfect dish for him, “I’ve got it! I’m done!”

“Good job babe,” he squeezed your thigh softly, “I can’t wait to be home now…”

“Yeah me too,” you sighed, your thumb brushing over the back of his hand, “I just want to eat our food on our sofa, in front of the tv and share all the cuddles in the world… you know, make up for lost time…”

“That’s exactly what I was thinking about,” he said, “I missed you while I was away…” he raised your now intertwined hands and kissed each and every one of your knuckles.

“I missed you too Mase…” you tightened the hold on his hand while he kissed it, carefully turning around and placing a lingering kiss on his jaw.

-

“Babe the food has arrived!” Mason called you from downstairs as soon as he closed the front door.

“I’m down in a minute!”

“Hurry up or it’s gonna get cold!” he warned as he carefully put the food on the coffee table, right in front of the sofa.

“Oh my God I could smell it from upstairs, I’m so hungry!” you hummed as soon as you sat down next to him, smelling the food from up close this time.

“You weren’t joking when you said you were gonna wear your pjs!” Mason laughed as he looked at you.

“Can you blame me? I want to be as comfortable as possible!” you explained, “Plus, in that way you can carry me to bed if I fall asleep, and I won’t have to wake up to change my clothes.”

“Just make sure you’re not cold babe,” he joked as he admired the smooth skin that was left uncovered by your silky pjs, “I don’t want your icy feet on me tonight…”

“I’ve got you to keep me warm,” you winked at him before you took your food from the table and leaned your back against the soft cushions, throwing your naked legs on his lap and earning a playful glare from him, “we still have to share all the cuddles in the world remember??”

“How can I forget?” he softly smiled, glad he was back home with you.

In between laughter and chats about the highlights of the game you were watching on tv, you quickly finished your food, just as quickly as you found yourself cuddled up, snug and cozy against Mason’s chest.

“I missed you so much Mason…” you murmured, leaning your head on his shoulder and closing even more the space between the two of you by placing your lips on the soft skin of his neck.

“Is that so?” he smirked before he placed his lips on your forehead, “Because you didn’t mention it to me when I called you, not even once…”

“I didn’t want to be a distraction…” you whined, gently biting on his skin and making him hiss, “You had to keep your mind on football, I didn’t want to be in the way!”

“You’d never be a distraction baby…” he whispered against your temple, pressing a loving kiss to it, “Well, not an unpleasant one…”

“That’s a bit of a contradiction, Mase…”

“Come here…” he instructed as the hand that was caressing your back moved to your hip. He helped you sit in his lap, well he helped you straddling him as your thighs were on both sides of his hips, his hands on them and yours on his face, caressing his beard while you waited for him to talk, “You make me feel good, you bring my feet back on the ground, and if this means I’ll get distracted then so be it… but you’re so much more than just a distraction, you’re my motivation, you’re what keeps me going… and I love you so much for this.”

“I love you too…” you whispered, almost out of breath upon hearing his sweet words.

“I mean every word I said babe,” he looked at you, deep into your eyes, while his thumbs went under the top of your pjs, touching the smooth skin of your tummy that was hidden from it, “you pushed me to do my best, to be confident again, and today I even got to score a goal! It was all thanks to you and the trust you have in me…”

“No chance,” you shushed him with your finger, “you scored because you’re talented Mase, not because of me, I didn’t do anything… it was all on you Mr Goalscorer…” you teased him once again with the nickname.

“You were there, and that’s everything that counts for me…” his voice dropped as his stare was burning into your eyes.

You could feel your faces gravitating towards each other’s, your breathing getting shorter by the minute, your lips grazing until they collided.

What started off as a loving, gentle kiss, turned into a heated one in the blink of an eye; Mason’s hands were cupping your face as he deepened the kiss; your tongues were fighting for dominance as if you were trying to battle on who missed the other more through a kiss.

Your hands started to move from his chest, up to his neck and in his hair, tugging at the short strands as if you wanted to keep him as close as possible.

“Take me to bed, Mase…” you breathed in his ear, hearing him groan back at your request.

“You wanna go to sleep?” he smirked, moving his hands from your waist to your butt and giving it a firm squeeze.

“Sleep is the last thing on my mind right now, honestly.” you bit your lip as the feeling of him getting hard under you was more than enough to keep you fully awake.

“And tell me, what’s on your mind then my love?”

“You.” you said, lowering your face towards his once again before you kissed the corner of his lips and rolled your hips down on his to create some sort of friction that you both were now so needy for.

“I love you…” Mason whispered as he held you tightly against his body.

“I love you too…”

“I gotta have you…” the neediness in his voice was more evident with each second that he was holding you; the close contact between your bodies igniting a fire deep within him, one that he couldn’t control any more.

“I’m not stopping you baby…”

“Hold on tight,” he instructed as his hands were now firmly placed under your butt, “I’m gonna take care of you…”

And he did, he carried you to bed while you just enjoyed the warmth that was radiating off his body; he never stopped leaving small kisses on your exposed shoulder, not even while he walked upstairs with your legs around his waist and your arms around his neck. He whispered sweet, loving words into your ear that had you giggling from the happiness you were feeling just from having him home once again.

In between laughter, he gently lowered your body on the bed before he erupted in a fit of giggles once he understood you wouldn’t let him go, not even to get undressed.

“I’m not going anywhere…” he chuckled in your neck, nipping carefully on your skin.

“Good, because I don’t want you to.”

“But you have to let me pleasure you babe…” he said as he pressed his body down on yours, eliciting a moan from you.

“I want to make you feel good Mase…” you whined, raising your hips up to meet the slow rolling of his.

“You will, once I’m done with you…” he growled. His pupils were slowly dilating, he was famished for you, and his hunger was quickly making an appearance.

“Please Mason…”

“Please what?”

“I need you…” you breathed, “Please…”

“Where do you need me?” he whispered against your lips. His hand sneaked its way under your silky shorts, and he groaned when he felt how wet you already were for him, “You want me inside you?”

“Yes… please…” your breathing was getting laboured just from the touch of his fingers, “Oh fuck…” your head rolled back into the pillows as Mason’s eyes couldn’t part from the blissful expression painted on your face while he slipped one, then two fingers inside of you.

“I missed this baby,” he rasped, clearly getting more aroused by watching you, “I missed seeing you like this, all mine.”

“Fuck Mase I want more… I need more…” you wrapped your hand around his wrist, the feeling of his fingers inside you doing very little to satiate your need for him.

He stopped his movements, leaving his fingers inside of you while he kissed you fiercely. You bit down on his lower lip, hoping that it would help his resolution crumble, and it did.

He got off the bed but his eyes were still glued to you; his chest was rising and falling harshly, as he was trying to slow his breathing. His hands made quick work of removing his t-shirt, before he kicked off his trousers. He kneeled on the bed once again, unable to keep himself from kissing you any longer.

“You’re so beautiful…” he said in between kisses, “I’m so lucky to have you…” those words were escaping his mouth as he slowly undressed you, starting from your top, and then taking off your shorts.

He stared at you as he sat back on his heels: your naked body, sprawled in front of him, just for his eyes, called him in.

“Why are you staring at me like that?” you blushed under his gaze, “Mase?” you chuckled as he didn’t have it in him to answer your question, he was too busy admiring you.

“You’re perfect,” he breathed as you were now kneeling on the bed in front of him, “I missed this… I know it wasn’t that long of a time but still-”

“Kiss me.” you blurted out. You placed your hands on his chest; your fingers caressed the warm skin on his collarbones and they slowly traced their way up his neck and into his hair while he hungrily put his mouth on yours.

Those words were all he needed to snap out of his trance, because as soon as his lips touched yours he was all over you. His hands moved on your body as if they followed a precise path: they gently touched your face, your jaw, and with each stroke of his tongue on yours they went lower, down to your boobs, grazing your ribcage and earning a whimper directly in his mouth.

As he heard the sounds you were making, he sat back on the bed, wrapping his arms around your middle and bringing you to straddle him once again, just with little to no clothes this time.

Mason’s lips never parted from yours, not when he freed his cock from his Calvin’s, not when he lowered your body enough to slip it inside of you.

“Fuck Mase…” you silently moaned as he stretched you out.

“Oh God… you’re so tight baby,” he groaned, with his mouth still on yours, “I don’t know how I am gonna resist you…”

“Don’t…” you moaned, “I want you to fuck me Mason please...”

“Shhh baby,” he smirked, before he had to bit down on his lower lip to suppress a moan after a particularly deep roll of your hips, “I don’t want to rush things… I want to take my time with you…”

You could only moan back at his words, as Mason was making it really hard for you to form a simple word with the movement of his hips under you. His hands were slowly moving you over him, in a teasing rhythm that had you both whimpering in pleasure.

“You don’t know how much I love you…” Mason groaned in your neck while he helped your movements as he squeezed your butt, “Fuck, you feel so good…”

“I love you more…” you murmured in his ear, out of breath from how deep he was inside of you.

You let your hands slide from his hair to his back, right between his shoulder blades as you pushed his chest closer to yours. Your nails grazed his skin, making him hiss as his hips stilled at the sensation.

“Jesus baby,” he rasped, looking into your eyes with his black pools of desire, “you’re making me go crazy, fuck…” his strangled moan came out against the skin of your shoulder, while he was biting down on it.

“Do it again…”

“You want me to bite you?” Mason smirked up at you as you nodded, while his right hand tangled in your hair as he pulled on them; he had your neck on full display for him, a white canva that waited to be painted by his teeth.

His intention was never to hurt you of course, and it showed in the careful way he let your body down on the bed while he now hovered over you.

He was quick in entering you again, his dick twitching inside of you upon seeing the lust painted on your face. This time he wasn’t holding back, he wanted to let go, and for you to let go with him, under him, at his mercy. He knew you loved it like that.

“Am I fucking you good enough now babygirl?” he groaned as he could feel your nails on his skin once again.

“Yes…” you moaned, wrapping your legs around his hips and keeping him as close to you as possible, “you fuck me so good Mase…”

“Say it again.” he whimpered as he pounded into you, chasing both of your highs.

“Oh fuck Mason…” you whined as you could feel yourself getting closer to the edge under Mason’s thrusts.

“I love it when you moan my name baby…”

“I love you,” you said out of breath, your arms wrapping around his neck, your hands in his hair once again, “I love you so much…”

“I love you more…” he said as he stared down at you, “…so much more.”

He leaned his forehead against yours, as he whispered sweet words to you. The image you had in front of your eyes was one you wished you could keep in your mind forever: his eyes were full of lust, eyelids half closed as he was trying to not let go and cum right there and then; his parted, red lips were so inviting you had to resist every urge to kiss them as you were too busy taking him in; the muscles in his neck, in his shoulders, in his chest were contracting and relaxing under the fast rhythm of his hips.

“Like what you see?” he smirked as he took your lower lip between his teeth, igniting an even bigger fire inside of you, “You can’t lie, I can feel you clenching down on me baby…”

“I’m so close Mase, so so close…”

“Me too baby,” he brushed his lips on yours again, teasing you, “I’m right here with you…”

“Oh fuck!” you moaned as you felt his fingers drawing circles on your clit, giving your body the final jolt it needed to fall over the edge.

Your knuckles turned white as you tugged on the sheets at your sides; you missed this, the ecstatic feeling only Mason could provide you with. You missed Mason, and that was no secret.

“I’ve got you, I’ve got you baby…” Mason groaned, caressing your face as he let go, finishing inside of you, “fuck… oh fuck I love you…”

After you both came down from your highs, you took a moment to just lay there in your tangle of limbs; the weight of Mason, that was still laying on top of you fully spent after the game and after your reunion, was comforting you, telling you he was back in your arms.

“Am I crushing you?” he asked out of the blue.

“Nothing I can’t handle…” you giggled.

“I think I’m too tired to move…” he confessed with his adorable, sleepy voice.

“Don’t move then…”

“I don’t wanna hurt you…” he said as he slowly removed himself from you, “C’mere now.” he pouted as he pulled you into his chest, already regretting having to separate your naked bodies.

“I’m not going anywhere that’s not close to you Mase…” you whispered in his ear, as you watched his eyes already falling shut after the intense day, “or should I say Mr Goalscorer?”

He chuckled, already half asleep, wrapping his arms tighter around your body, as he hid his face in your neck, where sleep finally found him.

[directdogman]

In my own writing I struggle with giving each character their own voice (speech patterns, phrases they use) and in Dialtown each character is super specific. Are there certain things you had to remember for each character, other than Oliver using his fucked up slang lmao.

When I write my characters, I can usually hear them in my head to some extent. Like, I can picture how it would feel to talk to them, or if I tuned out while one of my characters was chattering away about something, I can kinda hear the unintelligible static.

If you want me to write a lil essay pointing out differences in how the characters in the main cast are written, alright, I'll bite:

Verbal ticks help differentiate characters for me. We all know about Randy's stuttering, but there's more than just that in how the characters' sentence structures affect how we see their speech.

Karen's sentences tend to end in periods, if they aren't questions or if her voice isn't raised. Almost all of Randy's sentences, meanwhile, end with ellipses (…) or hyphens to indicate he trailed off/stuttered his way through the ending. Oliver does occasionally end sentences with ellipses or hyphens, but defaults to periods and often exclamation marks, as he's pretty excitable. This alone shows the difference in tone/confidence that the main 3 have without changing any words.

The characters all use slightly different terminology when they speak. Oliver's fucked up slang is only a part of it, he also uses theatrical language, often framing sentences creatively and in a way that absurdly beefs up the word count of his dialogue. He uses fairly atypical adjectives, surrealist language. He refers to himself in the third person sometimes. He uses imperfect tenses in order to make his sentences longer/less uniform. I'll give an example, from when Gingi asks Oliver if film reel movie projection is magic:

"I consider myself a sorcerer of FILTH, perhaps (an apt conjurer of muck/grime), but this artform isn't QUITE witchcraft NOR warlockery, I'm 'fraid."

Okay, putting aside the bizarre content of the sentence itself, one curious thing to note is that the whole sentence is full of words that don't convey any additional information. Conjurer is a synonym of sorcerer and he uses two synonyms for dirty AFTER already using filth. Guy loves theatrical language and will structure his sentence to make sentences much longer, so he can fit more of it in. But, then ends the sentence by taking a whole syllable away from the word 'afraid' and abbreviation it, like speaking with an accent. Oliver's sentence pacing is completely different to other people because of the volume of odd language he uses. In the context of the game, he's also drawing the player in by creating a pause, as the next line is:

"No, the actual "beaming" work comes from our dear old movie projector, and possibly my greatest love: Big Bertha!"

He likes Big Bertha and enjoys talking about her, and he tries to draw Gingi in and get Gingi invested in this thing by drawing out the introduction and forcing Gingi to wait for him to introduce Bertha in suspense. Randy volunteers info as if he thinks you're gonna hit him, unable to stand silence and hence, the sound of his own thoughts.

To contrast, Karen uses direct language, mainly. I wouldn't call her speech robotic, as most of the time she can retract language, she does (I am->I'm, I would->I'd, etc) but usually she uses direct tenses, and takes fewer words to say what she needs to compared to, say, Oliver. Generally, the words she uses tonally matches what she says. Weirder, less usual words come out when Karen is reacting to something she finds weird/illogical.

Norm's speech could be described as someone with a heavy accent who's well read, but is slightly insecure about being well-read. He uses words like 'y'all', 'ain't', 'reckon', retracts words like 'to' as 't'', but if you pay attention, he occasionally uses technical, academic language that doesn't match the aesthetics of the rest of his language. You can take the boy away from book learnin', but ya can't take the book learning outta the boy.

Billy is aggressive and generally, his language is designed to make the player feel bad in some way. Generally speaking, he's either insulting you, mocking your knowledge of the world, pointing out something you said as stupid, or is using words like 'lmayo'. Billy doesn't care much about the player, but is interested enough to talk to the player as a means to offend/demean them until you run out of things to say or leave, frustrated, which is Billy's goal. If you view what he says in this lens, you'll see this accurately describes how he speaks to you.

Billy uses surrealist language occasionally to seem more hellish and inhuman, but often, uses fewer words than other main characters. Subconsciously, it's to convey that Billy doesn't respect you enough to use more words. When Billy DOES use big words, it's exclusively on purpose and exclusively to subconsciously belittle Gingi, like when he refers to Gingi as a 'amphibian moron'.

God, similar to Billy, tends to use fewer words than most other characters. He often gives formulaic dialogue responses. There's no psychological play here, God just genuinely doesn't care how Gingi or anyone else sees him or if his tone/phrasing is improper because he knows how little respect people in Dialtown have for him anyway and embraces it.

Sometimes though, he does use uncommon synonyms for words, a byproduct of having lived so long through other times/eras. The references he makes are much the same. Fucker occasionally references ancient Greek figures and expects the references to land, as if everyone present somehow would've once somehow met these ancient fellows.

Mingus uses formal, impersonal language, and tends to use uncommon synonyms for words. The purpose of this is to subconsciously belittle the person she's speaking to and affirm her social class.

While she'll skirt past a commonly used word for a rare synonym in order to make her speech sound more dignified, she rarely leaves out pronouns in sentences. The reason for this is because most of her speech has an indignant tone. She's complaining about some shoddily done action or what she feels is a lack of service. So, the last thing she'd want to do is miss the opportunity to rant directly about her grievances in direct terms. Creative phrasing isn't used to replace pronouns but used to more elaborately phrase the error someone has committed to further emphasize her dismay. EG:

"You created the entire universe, and yet, the ability to perform a simple CARTWHEEL eludes you?"

Instead of saying "can", she says "the ability", instead of 'can't do', it's 'elude'. Hell, instead of 'do', it's 'perform'. But, both at the beginning and end of the sentence, she doesn't think to phrase the sentence in a way to avoid repeating the word 'you'. Like I said, the flourishes are just to drive the point home that she sees herself as above the person she's speaking to and to reaffirm how absurd she sees the limitations of others.

How Jerry talks is basically the conflict within a well educated but defeated man whose brain is decaying from years of substandard life. His speech, like his brain, is in conflict. His job dictates that he should always use terms of respect, like sir/ma'am, but he curses too. When he raises his voice, his sentences are often short and abrupt, but the words he uses tend to be elaborate and rarely used. Jerry is educated, has opinions on stuff. His mind is wasted at his job, and even through his defeated cynicism, you can subtly see that Jerry wants a better life through the words he uses.

Jerry's speech patterns are actually quite close to the narrator, and this is intentional, actually. The two characters share a few things in common that affect how they speak. Namely: Having to deal with Gingi's antics. There's almost a tired parental tone to both.

I could ramble for hours (please don't let me do this), but those are some examples of core character writing differences, namely in how I try to use language. Incorporating subtleties into the dialogue is good for separating characters and when you plan these out so that these placed differences are specific to traits that the characters have, your work'll feel more alive and be more satisfying to analyze later. Overthink. Overthink overthink overthink. It works, at least for me.

[gayeddieagenda]

please any wip you would like to talk about. ANYTHING

wow thank u i don't know what to do w/ all this freedom!!!

genuinely could not decide between a few fics but im going to talk about eddie + buck go to texas fic (not to be confused with eddie goes to texas fic ajsfkjas;flasj) (both of these r from my other list of wips)

it's a post-s7 fic, where at the end of the summer eddie gets the call that chris is ready to come home. eddie's going to go to texas to spend a week or so with his family and then take chris back with him and he asks buck if he'll come with him. the only complication is: in the months that chris was gone, buck and eddie got together.

buck and eddie's relationship is new-ish, but not brand new. they're in a good place, but eddie is still (of course!) dealing with the emotional fallout of his kid leaving and the fear of fucking things up again when he comes back, so eddie asks buck to come with him as just his friend. they aren't going to tell chris or his parents about their relationship, at least not yet.

it's a buck perspective fic. buck does not feel amazing about this decision, but it's hard to fight with eddie about it, and he does want to be there with him. eddie's romantic relationship(s) have already made his relationship with his son blow up once, so he's understandably wary about throwing this at chris out of nowhere. more than that, he's terrified that his parents will see eddie announcing that he's gay not as eddie finally starting to figure things out, but as just one more instability from eddie, one more reason not to trust him or his decisions.

it's super emotionally messy. eddie shows buck around the place he grew up and starts opening up about what it was like to be a kid there, his relationship with shannon, what it was like to come home to texas after the army and to leave it again. they catch back up with chris and trip over how this last few months have changed him, too. eddie and his parents butt heads. it's late summer in texas and eddie is scared and buck is in love.

this fic is also me writing a little too much about eddie's relationship with religion and with his parents - i had this feeling for a while that i couldn't really figure out how to relate to eddie's relationship with religion, bc i was raised christian but not catholic (i was raised something much more specific and weird <3). but somewhere in thinking about eddie diaz over the last few weeks i stumbled into this angle on it that's about eddie reckoning with the difference between the values his parents were espousing when they raised him (for ex, some degree of christian homophobia) vs how they act now (still christian; less didactic about it. replacing the tacit homophobia eddie was raised with with an it's fine!! of course we're cool with gay people!! let's not talk about it!! attitude that's almost as hard to navigate). spoiler alert, but eddie does end up coming out to them before the fic is over, and since the fic is from buck's perspective, it's a lot of buck trying to navigate how to be a good partner to eddie in this new relationship without being able to be open about the relationship, while eddie is struggling hard with what it means to be a good parent and his own resentments toward his parents

[call-sign-shark]

Hi Shark. I was wondering if I could be cheeky and request something from you. I was wondering if you could release a headcanon for Heaven with a list of fun facts about her (i.e. fave food, color, animal, vacation spot, book, song, drink...if she went to university what d'you think she'd study that kind of thing). She's just so interesting that I'd like to know more about her. Also, I read a fic she was mentioned in the other day and I thought you'd be interested. It was just a mention but I thought it was cool. Also, I can't wait for The woods whisper part 2. I'm on edge.

Hi sweet anon, thank you so much for your wonderful ask! As for the fic, please do send me the link. I probably have it in my reading list if the mutual has tagged me but I reckon I need to catch up with a lot of things. I've been feeling quite tired lately and I’m starting a new job as a bartender so it's quite tiring. I’m delighted you find the murderous angel interesting so here we go. 🖤

𝐻𝑒𝒶𝓋𝑒𝓃 𝐿𝒶𝓋𝑒𝓎 𝒮𝒽𝑒𝓁𝒷𝓎 headcanons

𝒫𝑒𝒶𝓀𝓎 𝐵𝓁𝒾𝓃𝒹𝑒𝓇𝓈

♢ Her favorite animals are hyenas. She dreams about owning one?? She’s weird asf I know.

♢ I personally imagine her voice like the singer of Sohodolls (by the way, this song from the group is her main theme song)

♢ Surprisingly enough her favorite color is not white, but red and gold.

♢ She's multilingual and speaks: French, Russian, German, and English all fluently.

♢ She's 25 at the beginning of HYE, even if throughout her life people struggle to give her an age since she has this very woman-child aspect.

♢ Her style is quite modern for the era. When she doesn’t wear elegant and revealing dresses with gold jewels, capes or fur coats, she loves stealing one of Arthur’s shirts and tuck it in her skirt. Similarly, he had to buy a second coat ‘cause she had stolen his. Most of the time she either dresses like a goddess or a forest nymph.

♢ She loves fun fairs and circuses! When they started flirting together and meeting at church every night, Arthur sometimes brought her candied apples.

♢ She might be an enchanting singer and she might love music but she's awful at playing an instrument. She tried piano, guitar, harp, and violin but she was terrible at all of them.

♢ She has empathy issues she hides quite well. Now, I’m not saying she has 0 Empathy but she lacks of it most of the time except with Arthur or on a few occasions. It leads her to be cold and sardonic with people outside of her private circle when she doesn’t “mask”.

♢ Did someone said “lemon pie”? She’d kill for lemon pies. It’s her favorite dessert of all time.

♢ Her Birthday is the 22 January.

♢ She's fond of myths, legends, and fairy tales. If she had to pick one tale and one myth she would go for the Red Little Riding Hood and the Beast of Gevaudan. But her favorite story is Alice’s Adventures.

♢ She's a "mama bear", which means she doesn't lose her temper easily despite being gifted with an ability for extreme violence but touch her husband, kids or family and she'll go f e r a l.

♢ She talked several times with Linda at church, unknowing Heaven was already fucking her husband (and she enjoyed it). I know, that's a dick move.

𝑀𝑜𝒹𝑒𝓇𝓃 𝒜𝒰

*most of the hc above still works for her modern!self

♢ Her favorite book is The Silence of the Lambs by Thomas Harris.

♢ She works as an exotic pole dancer and aerial performer. Considering this, she also masters aerial hoop, silks, and Chinese pole.

♢ She is currently applying to study forensic medicine after several years of gaps.

♢ She has spent years locked up in a mental institute, in the dangerous patients ward.

♢ Her favorite food is Japanese Udon soup with gyoza and Nikuman as side dishes.

♢ She loves listening to brutal music, such as metal, hard rock, or alternative trash/bimbo music even if her playlist is actually quite varied. You can go from Rammstein and Angerfist to Britney Spears and Lana Del Rey.

♢ She smokes weed.

♢ If she had to choose a drink it would be red wine for alcohol and pumpkin spice latte for sweet. But in truth, she’s that annoying gym girl so she mostly drinks water and homemade protein smoothies. She also loves boba milk teas.

♢ She's a huge fan of horror movies and games (especially FNAF), with a fascination for cannibalism. With that being said, she organizes the best girl nights ever, especially during Halloween.

Heaven is reader in the Arthur Shelby x you series Heaven in Your Eyes. Why don't you join the ride? We have drama, sex and gore.

[heroes-fading]

tw for pretty in-depth discussion of fictional suicide attempts/suicidal ideation ///

i just. think a Lot about how the idea of “well ellie should have had a choice!” often ignores the implied fact that ellie, on the day she was entering the hospital, was struggling with some degree of suciidal ideation to the point where joel opened up about his attempt and ellie’s immediate response was:

“i know why you’re telling me this”

because she’d been so nonresponsive, so far removed from her usual self in her depression, that joel was worried for her and thought the story of him recovering from his attempt, feeling that hopeless, would resonate with her.

“yeah, i reckon you do” -- that’s....yeah. 

and she goes for the “time heals all wounds” to wrap it in a bow-- the cliche of “it gets better, you just have to give it time” that we give to people struggling especially with suicidial thoughts and joel in a moment of rare vulnerability says “it wasn’t time that did it” -- him telling her that he loves her and cares about her, that that is what healed him, that that is why he’s opening himself up because he doesn’t want her to hurt like he did. that it’s not just going to be time, he’s here and he’s not going anywhere whatever healing looks like for her. and it hits her like a gut punch because it’s the last thing she’s expecting and the thing that breaks through to her.

so if you’re asking the teenager with sucidial ideation, who has spent her entire life being told by an institution that she is inherently expendable and her life is worth nothing, coupled with her mom’s friend echoing that same sentiment -- of course she would have said yes. marlene with the “what would she want?” gee i wonder how putting her in a system that sees her as expendable would affect like worldview on top of countless traumas! and joel is the one person in her life who does not see her as worth sacrificing, who would mourn her and care about her to the point where he’s unwilling to mourn her even if it means she hates him. 

when people we love and care about go through something like that, we don’t go “oh i guess it’s your choice”. it’s “i will drag you kicking and screaming to go on with me if i have to because i love you and i don’t want to do this without you, because you are worth more than how you’re feeling right now.” it’s what tommy did for joel. he dragged him out of that ditch, took him to a medic camp even though joel swears up and down it’s what he wants and never lets him do it again and he can’t go on and do this. it’s what joel does later for ellie. 

so yeah.

no i don’t think joel should’ve woken up ellie like

“r u sure?”

[trillscienceofficer]

“Distant Shores” (Voyager short story collection, 2005) review: meh

I'd hoped this collection would be better, frankly; luckily the stories that involve B'Elanna (and there were quite a few of them, to my surprise) are mostly okay. Kes also appears prominently in at least two stories but Harry didn't really get one where he's the protagonist, and I'm surprised none involved Naomi or the Borg kids. Three stories seemed very concerned with the surviving Equinox crew and at least two seemed to want to vindicate them somehow?? I don't know, weird choices. But regardless, the problem wasn't so much in the ideas but in the execution, which was often atrocious.

story-by-story breakdown under the cut

“Da capo al fine” by Heather Jarman - this is the 'frame' story, you get to read the first half at the beginning and the second half at the end, but this story doesn't work so well for this purpose as the one on “The Lives of Dax” did for that collection. The plot is about Admiral Janeway and her last moments with the Borg Queen in “Endgame” but, idk. I think the author wanted to write a reckoning with all of Janeway's arch-nemeses but the story fails to have any stakes.

“Command Code” by Robert Greenberg - Tuvok and Chakotay get snippy on the bridge once Chakotay is left in command very soon after “Caretaker”. The concept is intriguing! Unfortunately the author's style is as dull as watching paint dry.

“Winds of Change” by Kim Sheard - this one was really fun! After being possessed by Tieran, Kes is struggling with her anger and reactivity so she goes to B'Elanna for help, and they try some of B'Elanna's sports holoprograms. This does not go well! Everything seems lost until B'Elanna offers a different approach to holoprograms, and it turns out they can work well together. This was just a really nice take on a dynamic that was really underexplored in the show (the author makes a point to say so as explicitly as she can), and it's honestly one of the best stories in the bunch.

“Talent Night” by Jeffrey Lang - my man Jeffrey (of “String Theory - Cohesion” fame) contributes to the collection with a hilarious story concept and great characterization for all involved, mostly B'Elanna, Tom and Harry, who are in charge of organizing said talent night. I can almost forgive the fact that it just an elaborate setup to get B'Elanna and Tom together by making B'Elanna needlessly jealous. Almost.

“Letting Go” by Keith R. A. DeCandido - this story is about the ones 'left behind' by Voyager, the families and loved one of the crew back in the AQ. I think I would've liked this way more if the author had chosen to follow anyone else other than Janeway's fiancé Mark. I liked how grounded the story is in the events of DS9 and First Contact and the range of reactions that all these people have to Voyager's disappearance, but I found myself wondering more about Greskrendtregk and T'Pel than Mark. I also found it hilarious that the story ends with Mark having married someone else and having to write to Janeway, who he's just learned is still alive, about it. I have to say though that it was a nice touch to have a lot of the people involved be the families of the crewmen who died in “Caretaker”—they obviously don't know what happened but the reader does, so their presence lends a lot of emotional gravity to the narrative.

“Closure” by James Swallow - Seven and Neelix get trapped in a cave that used to be inhabited by aliens and Neelix walks off to find a way out when—Kes shows up. Is it a vision, induced by the Ocampa artifacts in the cave? Is it actually Kes who's come back to say goodbye? It doesn't make much difference to Neelix, who is very glad to see her again. I think I would've appreciated this story more if it hadn't turned Neelix into too much of a lovesick fool; I don't like the idea that he actually never got over Kes with this kind of intense sentimentality. The story was enjoyable but something about it rubbed me the wrong way.

“The Secret Heart of Zolazus” by Robert T. Jeschonek - this one is terrible. Seven crash-lands on a planet and is saved by an outcast who pretty much gives her life for Seven and it's supposed to be ~inspirational~ or something but it's written in a way that... I don't know, reads exactly like one of those corny christian moral stories? I swear it's one of the most artless, embarrassing things I've read this year. The one thing it has going on is that Seven gets to kneel beside this dying alien girl who's taken a hit for her and so you can read some subtext in there, but the horrifying ableism is truly not worth the ticket!

“Isabo's Shirt” by Kirsten Beyer - the horrors aren't over though because this story is worse!! It's unabashedly J/C but oh boy both Chakotay and Janeway are so HORRIBLY out of character I couldn't cope. How did this even get published? Is this shipping brain at its worst?? Plus it's embarrassingly racist. I was never particularly interested in this ship but if THIS is in any way representative I am for sure steering well clear.

“Brief Candle” by Christopher L. Bennet - note: if you can't understand the distinction between romance and workplace sexual harassment you should probably not be writing romance! This is particularly galling because this is the 'Marika Wilkarah lives on Voyager for a few weeks' story which is something I wanted to see explored for a long time, and like... Marika HAS some interiority and convictions in this story but 1. we never see her really interact with other Bajorans if not in hindsight (why??) 2. her remaining resentment for Seven is barely mentioned and 3. she basically wants to be close to someone before dying and? essentially harasses Harry into having a relationship with her?? what???? If this were a fic it should get a 'dead dove do not eat' label. That was so, so awful and such a disappointment for the interesting concept this story promised to be. As I said in a previous post, the one thing this story has got going on is that Marika sides with B'Elanna during the events of “Barge of the Dead”, which I think it's a great take! But not enough to make me forget how bad the rest is.

“Eighteen Minutes” by Terry Osborne - the story of the time the Doctor spent on the planet from “Blink of an Eye” before he got beamed back to Voyager. I'm always extremely ambivalent about Doctor episodes/stories and this one is no exception. On one hand, the conflict he faces between his programmed-in hippocratic oath and the prime directive is believable, but on the other it ends up being another one of those weird power fantasies in which the Doctor gets the boundless gratitude and undying affection of the people around him because... he's done his job as a medical practitioner? It feels in character but I don't have to like it!

“Or The Tiger” by Geoffrey Thorne - LOVELY B'Elanna characterization in this one right until the ending, which I hated. Authors always tend to exaggerate B'Elanna's propensity for violence when in reality the show consistently shows her being very restrained and extremely remorseful whenever she snaps (and she only snaps because people tell her constantly that she's unable to control herself!) It's one of those stories where the point is 'aw the Equinox crew is trying very hard to make amends and the Voyager people are being mean to them' which... baffles me as a setup? It was interesting to see B'Elanna believably get into a rabbit hole when confronted with new technology that could help Voyager! But I'm not sure she wouldn't have snapped out of it as soon as it was pointed out to her that she might've been hurting living beings with her actions. We've seen B'Elanna struggle with this kind of moral quandaries before (“Prototype” and “Dreadnought” come to mind), so that the conflict dragged out for as long as it did here (and that she beat someone up for it!) feels deeply out of character to me.

“Bottomless” by Ilsa J. Bick - another one of 'the Equinox crew deserved a second chance!' stories, this time with crewman Marla Gilmore. I loved the technological conundrum (what do you do if your submersible is stuck on the bottom of the sea??) and Marla's lingering guilt and resentment felt believable and genuine. Shame that she expresses this mostly by being mean to B'Elanna (thought it happens mostly in her head), and you get the feeling she's just sharing the author's POV, since she has Tom saying some terrible garbage too... there's really nothing quite as diabolic as misogyny (and misogyny that's racially coded) coming from women authors! Ultimately Marla sacrifices herself to save Janeway and Chakotay and in so doing she expiates all of her Equinox sins, which would be okay (I guess) if it wasn't the exact same plot of “Brief Candle”, for some reason.

[succiducus]

{uraz kaygılaroğlu, 34, agender, he/they/she} We are so glad to see you safe, ADVISOR ABDULLAH MACKENZIE of SCOTLAND! It’s dangerous out in the world these days, but I hear that you are CALCULATIVE and DEDICATED enough to handle it. Just don’t let your RECKLESSNESS bring you down! Stay on your guard, because with your secret being at risk for exposure, you wouldn’t want everyone to find out after the reckoning your heart is no longer in the rebellion.

b a s i c s //

birth name: murat abdullah mackenzie

nickname: abby

birthday: march 31st (aries)

occupation: royal advisor to the stuarts

orientation: demi-romantic / pansexual

status: single-ish

languages: english, scottish gaelic (native). persian, hindi, japanese (fluent). german, amharic, sanskrit (conversational).

character influences: brian kinney (queer as folk), link & ganondorf (tloz), aragorn (lotr), indra (the 100), uchiha madara (naruto).

tarot card: strength

p r o l o g u e //

crooked by nature, they have always had a knack for manipulation and persuasion - nurture worsened it. selfish; power-hungry; proud; a perfect canvas for the pursuits of the family that they'd been adopted into and admittedly for their own gain. freedom granted them invisibility and they remain clutched onto that to this day. they've slipped into and out of many empires, left impacts, bought loyalties but as chaotic as they are, they're not simpleminded. they make calculative decisions and take well thought out actions for the gain of themselves and the mackenzies. prepared, intuitive, controlled - sometimes they seem outwardly unapproachable, they led their army with a strong hand, charm their way through awkward situations, and work hard regardless of their reasonings for doing so. they have two faces and only those loyal to the mackenzies know which one is real. they will stop at nothing to attain what they want.

a c t i : l a l q i l a //

The Mughal Empire had always been, to him, a means to an end. After his discharge from the Scottish military, being reassigned to a new empire to help aid the rebellion in any way that he could, he thought that settling in Delhi was temporary, that he would not grow attached to the people, sights, and sounds that surrounded him on a daily basis, however, that was far from the case. Assuming a new identity, working his way through the ranks of their military, making connections and friendships (even if surface level), and getting acquainted with a culture that his birth parents had fallen in love with after leaving Scotland wasn't supposed to leave a mark on him, but it did. The Grand Memoriam; reconnecting with Cailean and his sisters; hearing the loud accents of the Scottish court in the dining hall; followed shortly by invasions, political fights, chaos, and watching his heart face death once more pushed Abdullah from a state of clarity into one of complete and utter exhaustion. He decided to resign from his position as commander, swear fealty to Claire Stuart, and return home. The Reckoning shook him far beyond exhaustion; it cemented his love for the empire in his heart.

t i m e s k i p //

Grief was not new to Abdullah. He had been mourning Scotland and his place within it for years before The Reckoning took the rulers of the Mughal Empire from him. However, the loss struck him harder than he thought it might. Grown accustomed to serving them, to his every thought encompassing their safety and safety of their empire, suddenly being without all of it made guilt trickle into the space between his ribs. He struggled with this for the majority of their journey home, tried his best to smile when he was supposed to smile; one might say that his years of pretending came in handy when asked if he was glad to be home by fellow clansmen and their family friends. It was interesting, he supposed, how being back on the moors of Scotland didn't remove the sting of having to leave India behind. With news of it's descent into chaos reaching him, the guilt of leaving it defenceless when he did, lingered. But, somewhere between training with his mother in the halls of Castle Stuart and sliding into bed next to the youngest Fergusson, his grief disappeared and was replaced by a warmth that was often threatened by the thought of what those he cared about most were doing behind the scenes. You see, even with the new reign among them, the rebels that he had once proudly stood with were strong, perhaps, even stronger than ever, and in the land under Stuart reign, whether by one monarch or by four, rebels careless enough to get caught were hung. Once a thought that made him chuckle, the reality of losing those he cared about to something they could choose to refrain from started to make him weary.

p r e s e n t d a y //

Exhausted by his days in the military and the monotony of daily life now that he's back home, when the opportunity to put his mind to use once more approached him, he took it. From Mughal Commander to Royal Advisor, Abdullah is settling into his position comfortably while still training under his mother's guidances to become Duke after her retirement - the most prominent issue? He's starting to see each Stuart as people and not monarchs, an issue for the once rebel still lurking under the surface. For now, he's keeping up appearances for the sake of his parents and lover, however, he's come to the realization that the exhaustion from years of pretending is finally catching up with him and if he had to be honest? He simply wished to wake up to the sun illuminating red hair, the loud purr of Mor, and the smell of grass fluttering in through the open window of their bedroom. He supposed, being so close to love and it's beauty had made him soft - he could no longer stomach the rebellion and what it had the potential to take from him.

c o n n e c t i o n s //

cordelia mackenzie (sister) - to be written

karolina mackenzie (sister) - to be written

cailean fergusson (soul-mate) - they have been caught in a dance of cat and mouse for decades, unable to shed their emotional attachment to one another. they fall apart, put distance between themselves, however the universe brings them back together, often stronger than the last time their souls tangled. once on the same side of the coin, they now faced the unique challenge of being on opposites. its led to countless arguments and skirting around the topic of the scottish monarchy yet underneath all of the anger and frustration, they make moves toward one another and for each other out of love, even if they cannot admit aloud quite yet.

[unofficial-sean]

Every time my dad visits, I struggle to understand him. I struggle to assess our common understandings. I struggle to interact with him in a meaningful way.

I used to be a car person. I used to dream up the cars I'd own and what mods I would have on them. I'd try them out in Forza, and this is what drove me to get my GED and become a mechanic. I was obsessed. This worked well with my dad because I'd reckon most white guys are car people, too, to some degree. I was enriched with tools for gifts and our time spent talking was almost always about cars and motorcycles.

But that was before. Now, I'm focused on a deeply personal mission to make my community's HVAC system as efficient as possible; arrived at by personally seeking knowledge over years and years, and also running breathlessly into the world of cars and being knocked on my ass by the intolerance of the people in that world.

I got swept up in the mystical world of radios, which paired well with my dad, as well, who got his technician license shortly after I did, because wireless communication appealed to his sense of independence.

Instead of running face-first into hyper-masculinity, I ran into a door too small to squeeze into. Being a radio technician was not to be.

So, I moved onto biology. Also something my dad is interested in. He likes trees and has plenty of urban wildlife stories. But he is over 50, and a few months ago, I taught him that trees actually consume oxygen at night as part of cellular respiration; it was news to him. Biology wasn't to be, either; I was overwhelmed by the workload placed on my by college and I burnt out.

So here I am, now. I've tried on many costumes. I've learned a little in a lot of places. I've sought out a role for myself to fill. I lost interest in cars and motorcycles. I'm always fascinated by life, but I can't focus on it anymore. Radios are always cool, but there's no one to talk to; or any reason to. I'm terrified of diving.

So I have HVAC, now. It's the current costume I'm wearing. I have a moral mission informed by my experiences roasting in the summer and by my ever-increasing knowledge of the climate crisis. It's all I can do. In my free time, I care for my frogs, I play single-player video games, I prepare for D&D with my club. I dream a lot, too. I don't have any partners, in part because I don't know where to meet my people, and in part because I've lost interest in others, but if I did. . . I just know my family would be weird about it at best.

I don't know how to fit either of my parents into my life, if I'm honest. There's no place for them. There's nothing they can do to enrich it. When I'm around them, I feel tense. I don't want to say the wrong thing. I don't want to hear how far apart we are.

My dad took my brother and I to a car museum. I loathe cars, now. I drive one, sure. But I don't care for them. I learned that there's a completely different way of living, and I desire it dearly; why would there be any ounce of love left for them? But I go anyways, because on some level, I have to. The museum stinks of oily rags. It is a familiar smell, but one that now gives me a headache. I do a circuit, then head outside to breathe in the somewhat-fresh air. I say somewhat because the museum is next to I-5, and the tire noise erases anything sweeter that may have once been in its place.

I walk around the side to look at the building's massive outdoor units; two big, 6-comrpessor, 460v AC + boiler units. I am amazed that the compressors have a locked-rotor amp rating of 125. Can you imagine? I spied a mini-split system, too. A Mitsubishi. It uses R-410A and has a base refrigerant weight of 6oz. For every additional 25 feet of line, though, you must add 0.6 oz of refrigerant to it. There is a spot on the label for the installer to record the total weight of refrigerant in the system after install. It is left blank. Poor practice. Anyone servicing it, now, must estimate it by measuring the lines, if they can access them.

I'm supposed to be spending time with my dad, but instead I'm outside, alone. I don't wanna look at old cars who spewed lead into the atmosphere and probably killed their drivers just as often as they killed bystanders. I don't want to see the machines that my world was built around.

The museum has a section on fossil fuels and climate change. I half-expected to see some denial or distortion of history. No doubt there was some, but it's the solution to these issues that annoyed me the most. In essence, the plaques and exhibits said "let's make use of biofuels, hybrids, and electric cars to minimize emissions; and lets use renewable energy sources to reduce the carbon footprint of automobile manufacturing." fucking what. You wanna keep making cars? Unbelievable.

There was not a single mention of reducing car-dependency or electrified rail. My headache got worse. What did I expect? Car people are going to find a way to keep cars in their place.

What does this have to do with my dad? In a way, he's a barometer for sentiments on certain things. He still thinks I'm interested in internal combustion engines. I hate them. I hate their noises and their fumes. I know precisely how they work, and I could fix a broken one, but I despise what they represent and I just wish they would go away. I wish they weren't the topic of conversation anymore.

I'm tired of grave stakes and the horrors of the world. I want to feel hope again. I want to meet people who share my goals. I want to talk about a thriving future. But fuck, it is hard to do in Tacoma. I want to put a heat hump in every home. I want my tools to be part of a tool-sharing program. I want enough resources to contribute to mutual aid. I want electrified public transit so I can get rid of my car. I want bike infrastructure so I can use the damn thing to get around. I want empty parking lots torn up and replaced with green spaces.

I want to be part of it all and I want to talk with the people who already are. And instead I have my family and everyone else in this city. I'm too afraid to speak, lest I risk showing that I don't know enough. Too afraid to tell my dad I'm not interested in these things anymore because then we will have NOTHING. That will be very sad.

I'm tired. I put together a playlist of things to give me hope because I am trudging through a depression, again. Putting them on in the background while I click through Baldur's Gate 3 again because I can't sleep, but I don't have the brain power to write out my next session or do something bold and creative. I'm soulsapped.

Tomorrow will be the last time my niece celebrates her birthday in this state. She, her brother, and my sister are all moving to Illinois. We'll be at our grandparent's place. It is being referred to as the "last time we'll all be together." Grandpa's health is failing. He's about to be in hospice, if he isn't already. On one hand, I should be there just for the sake of it. I know I'd want as many people around if i was dying. Grandpa's always been cooler than his wife. She's the true reason I don't want to go. I don't like being around her.

I don't like all the "God Bless America" shit in her home. What is there to be proud of? I'm getting off track.

There's no point in raising my voice. I must be a neutral vessel everywhere I go. This is the only place I can ever express myself. Outside, I weight my guilt against my desire to push them all away. It is those days where I am compelled to spend time with family where I feel the most trapped.

[wordymcnerdy]

Attn Warrior Nun fandom writers! I was fleshing out some post-season 2 headcanons for a one-shot last week and accidentally stumbled into the set up for a whole other fic I can’t stop thinking about but am never going to write myself, so Ima just go ahead and drop it here in the frailest hope that some lovely, talented soul might be inspired to run with it and make my dreams come true:

So here it goes. 

We begin with Lilith. By the end of the season she's effectively burned all of her bridges in service of a master who was eviscerated in front of her, and in the immediate aftermath she seems to be experiencing some capital R Remorse about that - helping Bea to save Ava, watching Avatrice say goodbye, hoping when she and Bea meet next they'll be back on the same side, etc. Where does she go from there? I like to imagine she goes full Angel (in the Buffyverse way, not in the religious way) and takes her penance to the streets. In a cruelly ironic twist, she's now effectively performing the duties of the halo-bearer - utilizing her truesight along with her OCS training to track down the remaining wraith demons and punch them out of the possessed and straight back to hell - except of course that it doesn't feel remotely like fulfilling a lifelong destiny. There's no honor in it, she's just flailing desperately to try and make up for some of what she's done, and to finally do right by Ava. So there she is, out punching the shit out of some wraith demons, when who should wander into her path all full of wraith demon in need of punching?

Bitch, you know it's ya girl SHOTGUN MOTHAFUCKIN MARYYYY!

(Come on, y'all, duh she's alive. Vincent told Lilith Mary's dead like 10 whole minutes after telling her she was alive to save his ass and manipulate her into a trap, and now we're gonna take the fucker at his word? Sure, Jan.) (Yes, I'm aware of the BTS stuff at play, and maybe Toya never wants to go back, I'm just saying, the WN team could not have left that door open wider for her in case she ever does. No body, no proof, no details, just the word of one lying, manipulative sack o' dicks? Be serious now.)

So Lilith frees Mary of her demon and then takes care of her while she recovers. Mary's done some shit while she was possessed and has some guilt of her own to work through, so they trauma-bond, and now it’s really on because we’ve got us a kick-ass demon-fighting duo. Neither of them feels right about returning to the church - especially not with Father Sack-o-Dicks back wandering the Cradle like he didn’t fully murder Shannon, spend the entire first season gaslighting them about it, and then proceed to spend the whole next season attacking, endangering and otherwise fucking with them - but they're sure as shit not gonna stop fighting.

Smash!Cut to that final shot in the epilogue of the finale. Beatrice smiles as she walks away from the OCS, presumably to do what Ava told her and go live her life. I've seen a lot of different theories on what flavor of fluffy lil Eat Pray Love travel/adventure/vacation she's headed off on, and those are all super fun, but for me, man... I feel like that's what Ava would do, not what Beatrice would do. Ava’s loosened her up at bit, sure, but she's still Bea, or at least I still want her to 😏 Bea. (I'm SO sorry about that, I swear it just snuck up on me) We clearly see Beatrice struggling internally all season, and I actually don't think that has anything to do with her feelings for Ava. I think Adriel and Vincent took a fucking wrecking ball to the whole foundation of this mission Beatrice had dedicated her life to. If anything, Ava coming along when she does makes things easier, because it gives Bea something clear and tangible to fight for, but now with her gone, she has to finally reckon with what it is she's doing with her life. Again, there are good arguments to be made for any number of directions that reckoning could take, but I'd like to believe that when the dust settles she's going to find that she hasn't actually lost any of her faith, or her dedication to the fight. She’s still our Bea. She just needs to break from the constraints of these institutions she's at best begun to question and perhaps even become disillusioned with. She needs autonomy, and a new path. And I mean, you’re starting to see where I'm going with this, right? Beatrice can't contain her smile as she exits the Cradle, not because of what she's leaving, but because of what she's running toward - freedom, and her sisters.

TL;DR - in the aftermath of season two, an elite team of tactical former-nuns comes together to fight against evil and for each other.

Lilith

Mary

Beatrice

They are

Birds of Pray

Please please please somebody write it I'm so serious about this!

PS How psyched is Ava gonna be to join them when she gets back?

PPS Obviously I want Camila in here too. But also I’m kind of into the potential for conflict with her taking on more responsibility within the OCS but also feeling hurt/abandoned when she find out everyone’s hanging out without her?

PPS Just spitballing here but hey maybe Jillian Salvius would be interested in employing their services to take down Kristian or undo some of the harm he did with her money or whatever, and ya know, if that were to lead to her joining the team in an Oracle-esque capacity? That could be cool. And if perhaps in time she wanted to work on getting field-trained as well... idunno, maybe Lilith specifically would be interested in training her... (hey! stop looking at me like that! those two had an *energy*, okay? I cannot be the only one who noticed!)

[whenyouarethesun]

Good afternoon! (Or whatever time it is for you 😄) I’ve been sort of asking around various polyamorous people about being poly, as I’ve been questioning if I might be poly myself. In particular I notice that you have poly and in a relationship in your pinned, does that mean you have a sort of primary partner? And in which case, how do you balance your main relationship and then other secondary partners/relationships/etc? (Given that you have other partners of course) 

Sorry this is so lengthy, I just really like hearing actual peoples experience, it helps me understand better versus just a google search, if that makes sense. Again, if this is too invasive/just too much feel free to ignore! I’m not sure if this is out of place to ask an NSFW account, haha. Side note, love your account!

omg hi! this is actually a very thoughtful ask. i think everyone has a different comfort level of the kinds of asks/personal info they want to share or answer on a blog like this-- i happen to be a pretty open book. and i'm also a firm believer in queer people talking with other queer people to support each other and learn together.

i wouldn't be nearly as aware of my likes, dislikes, sexual preferences, etc. if it hadn't been for the conversations and experiences i've had with other queer people in my life irl and online.

all that being said, i'm definitely no expert but it seems like you're aware of that and just want some real people experiences to gather info from.

when it comes to my partner: i've been with my gf for about 5 years now, living together for about 3. we're both trans and both started hormones together last year. she's my whole world and the woman i want to marry one day. i discovered my polyamory preferences by just basically blurting out one day that i think i may experience attraction and romantic love with other people but that it definitely did not detract or interfere with my love and attraction to her. at the time i had a best friend who i fell for and she could tell and was respectful and cautious because she didn't want me to feel bad for having my obvious feelings for this person. she actually said she felt the same way too about other people and we just had a very long (and still ongoing, the conversation never ends when you are honest and open about sex and love) discussion about what kinds of boundaries, feelings, and other things we want or felt.

that was about 2 years ago and since then we have both slept with and dated other people. it hasn't always been smooth--there have been boundaries (accidentally) crossed and some hurt feelings while i try to balance my priorities.

i am constantly learning how to prioritize her in ways that make her feel loved and wanted by me while i still have my experiences. i will be honest, i am not perfect and have definitely gotten carried away before with forgetting to check in with her. i struggle with a lot of different things and communication has always been one thing i enjoy but am not always great at. i tend to be avoidant, so being in an open relationship has really forced me to reckon with that aspect of myself and develop better communication skills.

people often ask us how we stay together and the answer is we talk about everything. e v e r y t h i n g. we're also madly in love, she excited me every fucking day. but i cannot stress this enough. if something feels weird, we talk about it, if it feels good we talk about it, if my heart is broken by someone who isn't her i talk about it and she does the same. we talk about how other people treat us to learn about how we want to treat each other while still respecting personal privacy of our other partners/dates/etc.

as for the term "primary" partner... i have never liked that. by traditional definitions, yes she is my "primary". but it feels weird to me. a term i have found i really like is nesting partner. she and i have built a life, family (our kitty), and home together. she is my home, she holds my heart and takes priority over other people i am seeing in the sense that she is my family. however, she and i both know we are capable of falling in love with others; she had another boyfriend for about 8 months last year and they told each other that they loved each other. i didn't feel like i was less important or taking "first place" in her heart either.

as for myself, i haven't really had a solid second partner...i have had about two or three friends over the past couple years that i have gone out with, slept with, and dated but never called it anything other than hanging out and never confessed any romantic feelings for each other. there was one boy i really fell for and he broke my heart, very recently. my girlfriend was extremely supportive and let me talk through everything i needed and still does when it comes up.

one of my more consistent fwb (friend with benefits-- old term but reliable) is someone that i help out with cleaning, groceries, and other household tasks because that's how i care for her specifically. sometimes we make out and we've talked about fucking eventually but we mostly just cuddle and fantasize and i take care of her in a lot of ways. but the first conversation we had was "hey you're hot but i don't think i want to or will fall in love with you or anyone else right now but let's still care about each other". and it's been refreshing-- i have no expectations of her and she doesn't of me either; other than respect and fun.

so i guess that's what it boils down to: identify how you care about other people. think about how you love and who you love. have you ever honestly been attracted to more than one person at a time? does that attraction go as far as sex? or is it an admiration of a pretty person. do you want to have a consistent partner and only hook up with others or do you want more than one partner that you live with? do you want to love two people separately or do you want to be in love with multiple people who are also in love and you all sleep with each other? as long as you are honest, safe, and respectful, there is no wrong way to be polyamorous.

thanks again for the ask and congratulations if you read this whole thing. i hope you have a great day and feel free to ask anything else you'd like!

[tillman]

A lot of thoughts about how galehaut could never recognize lancelot after like. U know. Everything happens. Hes just a completely different person in every way but I dont think that would matter too much. Tbh. Because lancelot even at the end of everything is just kind of a sad man who has never been treated like a person ever since he was younger and galehaut is galehaut and wouldnt care if he had killed him in a more personal hands on manner lol. Which makes me normal. But whatever

[dumbkatsu]

omgg hi!! I saw your post about writing your own TGCF X readers- Would you mind if I were to request a Mu Qing X Reader istg this man only has X Feng Xin stuff and I'm on the brink of insanity T^T THANKS MAN

Hey anon! I understand your struggles for real

Mu Qing is so pale that he turns so red when he blushes that you might be afraid that he has a sunburn

Speaking of which. If you convince him to go to the beach he'll dip himself in sunscreen and stay under the umbrella the whole time.

Be careful though bcs Feng Xin might throw him in the sea when he is taking a nap

Contrary to Feng Xin I think mu Qing would be more of a ghost of tsushima and dark souls type of guy. Even shadow of the colossus.

He had his fnaf phase and he's not proud of it

This bitch has a full 12-step face routine. 

He feels very relaxed afterward though

We all know this dude is a first-class tsundere so be prepared.

Sarcasm is a constant in your relationship.

A lot of teasing comments to make you scoff and laugh with him.

He can be a prick at times but the intention is there.

After all, he expresses his feelings better with actions than with words.

When it's raining and you forgot to bring something to cover yourself with. Don't worry he'll be there with an umbrella at hand.

He would first nag you about being stupid and not being prepared when it was obvious it was going to rain -_-

But he then makes sure you are fully protected. Even if his shoulder does get wet.

If he is in a specially good mood. He'd treat you to some nice warm food or drinks.

On the outside you might think he finds you annoying as hell.

But deep down he loves you sosososo much you have no idea how much he loves your silliness.

A lot of comfortable silence moments for sure. He feels so at peace with your presence.

Also, I can totally see some library dates and museum dates.

Cuddling with Mu Qing would be incredibly relaxing. He would dim the lights and put some soft R&B to chill.

He would stroke your hair and listen to you talk about your day.

He has a bit of a tough time waking up, but he isn't a sleepyhead. He just needs some incentive.

And seeing you in the kitchen preparing coffee for both of you and feeding his cat Min couldn't be incentive enough.

If you want to try random things with him. You do need to convince him a little. He thinks some things are lame. But then he sees your excited face and he reckons that if it makes you happy then it's worth the try.

He can surprise you at times too! With a bit of help from his trusty f-friends (and surprisingly enough Hua cheng and Pei ming), He prepares a night out doing the things you love and going on sappy romantic dates.

(He won't admit it but he got emotional when you saw me before you. You saw him tear up at the end of the movie)

When it comes to kissing he can be a bit hesitant at first. But when he gets more confident his kisses are direct and passionate. They make you know how much he loves you and wants you.

He generally holds his liquor but when he gets drunk you've never seen him more clingy. It's crazy he won't let go of you and he only wants cuddles and lowly rambles on how you are so beautiful and how thankful he is to be with you.

As cold as he can be and as hard as it is to get him to open up to you and get him to talk about what bothers him to you, you have to keep trying because deep down this little boy just wants to be understood and to be listened to without judgment. So when you see him obviously upset at something, sit him down get him to relax and talk to you.

A/N: I'm baaaaaack. I'm so so sorry anon for the delay but I've recently entered a writer's block bcs I had no idea what to write. If you think this is too short don't hesitate to ask me for more! Don't worry other anons that sent requests, I will respond to you soon ;)

[uuujeewriting]

you can do it! [albedo, kaeya, childe, zhongli and diluc]

s/o has been going through a depressive episode and lacks motivation to finish their work and is getting anxiety because of it

tw: none, mentions of depression/anxiety, nothing too much. fluffy comfort <3

albedo x gn!reader, kaeya x gn!reader, childe x gn!reader, zhongli x gn!reader, diluc x gn!reader

a/n: self indulgent bc i'm way behind school and in the middle of a depressive episode so motivation's been lacking ;-; hope you guys are having a good week tho!

i would like to clarify that if any of these scenarios/hc's of mine are similar to other writers' works, it is unintentional and i apologize

albedo

oh? unmotivated you say.. self depricating thoughts? intrusive ones too?

albedo was never one to mope around when he was stuck on some problem he's yet to puzzle together, but seeing you exhausted, anxious and so... dull–he desperately wants to take all your worries away

he's a bit slow, failing to realize your depressive episode for a few days. as it prolongs, he notices how you seem to talk down to yourself and give up easily

sometimes, you don't even start work at all

this is due to your anxiety, he assumes as you think you're incapable of finishing or doing the work satisfactorily enough.

pulling you into an embrace from behind as you work on the projects you've been stuck on for the past few weeks, he gently whispers into your shoulder

"darling, have you been alright recently? are you in need of assistance?" he asks

he presses a loving kiss on your neck and you stifle a chuckle

"it's that apparent, no? i've been under the weather for quite a while now.."

as you explain your reasons and all your troubles to his end, he nods and hums ever so often

"you must be feeling drained, hm? well, frankly enough, i seem to need a break myself."

"eh? albedo where-!!”

he pulls you away from your working place and carries you to the couch, laying you down gently as he smiles at you

"aside from your unmotivated self, i reckon you need reassurance for those intrusive thoughts of yours."

and that, ladies, gentlemen and folks, is how you end up cuddling with albedo until the sun sets and you fall asleep

bask in the comfort of his words as he calls you his everything and more :')) <333

kaeya

my, oh my. what's gotten into his precious little love?

he's sharp, quite easily takes notice to your frantic and dim self.

he sees you sitting outside, head in your hands and sighs leaving your lips every now and then

unbeknownst to you, he creeps behind you and presses a careful peck on the nape of your neck, causing you to flinch and look back quickly

he was about to laugh at your cuteness, but as soon as he's reminded of your troubled state, he sits beside you and takes your face into his hands

sir we're in the plaza-

"oh archons, why is my sunshine so dim these days?" he pouts

rip u probably after this

"kaeya.. well, you see-"

and as you explain your current doubts and anxieties, he strokes your cheeks softly and looks into your eyes fondly

when you're finished, he nods and presses a light kiss on your forehead, a silent promise to accompany and help you on your endeavors to face your troubles

"i'll always be here for you, my love. if there's anything i can help you with, do not hesitate to come into my arms, hm?"

"noted, mr. suave"

jkjk o r a m i

he laughs and kisses you on the edge of your mouth

"what say you we head into the tavern for a bit? you could use some relaxation, right?"

as if you had a choice other than to say yes

childe

this man would know the second it started

having a bunch of siblings has its benefits huh

when he walks into your shared room and sees you on the edge, tears brimming your eyes he sits you down on your bed

"hey, hey.. i'm here, it's alright."

as you cry in his embrace, he rocks you gently, shushing you softly in an attempt to hinder your tears

"you can tell me if you're up for it, honey. i'm never too busy for you."

"i-it's just that-"

mhm. oh? why, how dare they treat you so harshly. really? why must you have to be burdened so heavily?

he acknowledges your struggles and worries with gentle strokes and brushing through your hair

"you have it really rough, don't you? ah well, nothing we can do but-"

"childe?"

he stands up and leaves the room for a second

he comes back with food, drinks, your favorite clothing of his, a scented candle you bought and some books you have yet to finish reading

the action warms your heart as you sniffle and smile at your lover

as soon as he lays down with you, prepare to never see daylight again as he won't let go for the longest, and i mean longest time ever

"i love you, y/n. you're strong and don't let anything, not even yourself, make you think otherwise."

zhongli

dearest, must life be so unfair to you? why you out of all people?

zhongli is wise–he knows something is bothering you when it does. that being said, he isn't sure whether or not he should approach you so directly

especially if it seems like a sensitive topic

instead, in your depressive state and anxious fiddling, he calls you over to him

he pulls you into his lap as he takes your face into his hand and kisses you tenderly

"my dear, has anything been bothering you? might i offer my hand in dealing with them?"

you'd think kaeya's mr. suave then this man pops up with his broke ass

"as a matter of fact.."

as you go on and state your dealings and troubles, he listens with an almost solemn look

he looks at you with utmost affection and concern when you finish

"the terrains of life have been steep and intimidating, you have been very commendable for braving through these, my dearest."

he places his lips onto your own and strokes the back of your head lovingly

for a reserved man, zhongli easily expresses his affection for you in multitudes of ways

his kisses being one of them

after parting your lips, he peppers your face with his kisses and you laugh quietly at his ministrations

"might i suggest a quick stroll to take your mind off things?"

you agree, thinking that once you head home, you'll be back to work with a clearer mind

little did you know mr. no money in his pockets got a liiiittle surprise for you as you won't be returning to your work any time soon :DDDD

by 'surprise' i mean he's taking you out to dinner

yall nasties

diluc

diluc is a busy man, dealing with a winery and all

along with his night profession (which he has only admitted to you and the traveling duo)

you did your best to hide your troubled self and aid him in his work, but you can only hold the facade for so long before it eats you up inside

when you break, he is slightly taken aback but is quick to comfort you

he sees you shaking and situates you on his couch as he sits beside you, rubbing your back as you curl into his figure

he's very warm

"sweetheart, would you mind telling me the problem?" he asks

he waits for an answer as you're still trying to find the words

"diluc, i'm sorry for bothering you.. i know you have plenty on your schedule and-”

"y/n, you're my top priority, no matter what. my work is nothing compared to what you mean to me."

and it's true, you're really his top priority

woohoo !! :DD

when you explain your anxieties and doubts to diluc, he's very understanding and listens to you earnestly

"-and that's why i've been so.. down, let's put it."

he strokes your face and presses his forehead to your own, looking you in the eye softly

he pulls you in tighter and closer, pressing kisses to your jawline and below your ear

"thank you for expressing your troubles with me, my love. i'm sorry for not noticing earlier."

"no need, love, you're very busy and i can't thank you enough for taking the time to understand me."

he pulls away for a second and shakes his head

"again, my work is nothing compared to you. i am willing to put aside all my responsibilities for a week in order to ensure your happiness."

uh wh a t

"ah," you laugh concerned, "sure–"

"which is what we're going to be doing this week." he smiles

welp. no turning back now

enjoy ur week with the redhead you utter s i m p

[onestowatch]

19 LGBTQIA+ Artists You Need to Listen to This PRIDE

PRIDE is all about self-empowerment and self-determination. It’s about not just being comfortable with who you are but showing the world that there is pride to be found in being unapologetically you. And that’s why, this PRIDE, we wanted to shine a light on a small handful of our favorite LGBTQIA+ artists. Ranging from rapturous hyperpop, revelatory bossa nova meditations, romantic rave music, and everywhere in between, these are 19 LGBTQIA+ artists who deserve a spot on your PRIDE playlist and every playlist for that matter. 

girl in red

In her debut single, “i wanna be your girlfriend,” a teenage girl in red unapologetically sings of young queer love over a mesh of lofi production and jangly instrumentation that would come to define much of the bedroom pop genre. It is a standout moment of unrelenting honesty, and a serenely simple three-minute confession that would go on to strike a chord with millions who were afraid of what it meant to be something more than friends. Now, a few years later and following the release of her critically-acclaimed debut album, if i could make it go quiet, Ulven still writes with that same emotional honesty, putting forth every ounce of herself for the world to see. 

Meet Me @ The Altar

“the little lonely black alt girl i was in the 00s is living rn, she never even dared to hope she might see this 💖💖,” reads the top comment on Meet Me @ The Altar’s music video for their single “Garden.” It is a sentiment shared by much of the rising band’s fanbase, who are used to the mainstream alternative scene championing cis white males. Existing in the space between pop-punk and hardcore, Meet Me @ The Altar exists to challenge the notion that queer women of color don’t have a place in punk. And after penning a record deal with Fueled By Ramen, home to the likes of Paramore, Panic! at the Disco, and nearly every pop-punk band that made up your middle school playlist, chances are this is just the beginning for our new favorite punks.

THE BLOSSOM

For Lily Lizotte, better known as THE BLOSSOM, music exists as the synthesis and subsequent recontextualization of a host of past experiences. From the sound of their dad belting away in his home studio to stumbling upon niche Internet subgenres, THE BLOSSOM transforms all this and more into a sound that is instantly recognizable but impossible to perfectly place. The culmination of this host of influences takes sweeping sonic form on their debut EP, ‘97 BLOSSOM, a perfectly imperfect introduction to one of the most fascinating rising artists of recent memory.

BIMINI

You may recognize BIMINI as Bimini Bon-Boulash, the runner-up on the second season of RuPaul’s Drag Race UK. And now you should familiarize yourself with Bimini, brit-pop extraordinaire. Releasing their debut single “God Save This Queen” earlier this June, Bimini deftly channels late ‘90s brit-pop and punk to deliver a single that has us absolutely living for the ensuing chaos. Serving up multiple looks throughout its eye-catching music video, “God Save This Queen” is not just a non-binary anthem but a veritable 2021 lookbook.

Hope Tala

With a sound that falls somewhere between turn-of-the-century R&B and bossa nova, Hope Tala’s music is expectedly a dream given sonic form. Perhaps that’s why much of the UK singer, songwriter, and multi-instrumentalist’s music is able to so deftly weave imagery of love, heartache, and teenage fistfights into tightknit tracks that feel simultaneously transcendental and deeply personal. And with the release of her 2020 EP, Girl Eats the Sun, Hope Tala poses one all-important question, “Why have a life if you’re not going to do something crazy and make a difference in the world?” 

chloe moriondo

For much of chloe moriondo’s avid fanbase, watching her transform from budding ukulele sensation to pop-punk phenom very much meant watching her grow up. Getting her start on YouTube, moriondo's fanbase witnessed her evolve as both an artist and person. Coming out in the aptly titled “a ramble about self identity, growth, and being a lesbian,” to be a fan of the artist often feels like trading secrets with a close personal friend. It is a sentiment that rings all the more true upon delving into her debut album, Blood Bunny. Grappling with coming-of-age at the axis of empathic pop and euphoric pop-punk, Blood Bunny sees moriondo taking yet another impressive step forward.

Godford

Little is known about Godford beyond what can be garnered from a handful of interviews online and his succinct Spotify bio, and chances are he’s happier that way. The anonymous DJ and producer aims to make non-binary music that exists outside of the confines of genres, overly-simplified classifications, and even himself. What is important are the emotions his music hold and what his listeners take away. Fusing romanticism and rave in his debut album, Godford: Non Binary Place, the anonymous artist does just that. He provides a space that exists simultaneously everywhere and nowhere, like an ephemeral night spent out on the dancefloor with a stranger or close friend.

Joy Oladokun

Joy Oladokun is at the core of her music. It may at first glance appear to be a painfully obvious statement, but as her sincere songwriting seeps into every corner of your soul, it is a notion that becomes undeniable. In her major label debut, in defense of my own happiness, Oladokun writes with an unabashed authenticity, never turning a blind eye to the world around her. These shared reflections and recollections of life are often heartbreaking and uplifting in the same breath, but in their candidness, we can begin to piece together what it means to be human, imperfections and all.  

Allison Ponthier

Allison Ponthier may only have a handful of singles to her name, but her unmatched potential is clear as day. Raised in the outskirts of Dallas, Texas, Ponthier’s moving songwriting and emphatic vocal prowess speak to her country roots. Pair that country sensibility with some of the most pristine pop songwriting we have heard in quite some time, and you begin to understand just how exciting Ponthier is as a rising artist. With only two singles to date, there’s not much else we can say beyond do yourself a favor and play “Cowboy” on repeat.

Rina Sawayama

It feels like no hyperbole to call Rina Sawayama an inevitable pop icon. First garnering critical acclaim with singles like “Cherry” and her 2017 debut EP RINA, the Japanese-British singer-songwriter staked her name on her immaculate ability to capture all the glamour and larger-than-life appeal of early ‘00s pop. Building on what was a nostalgic yet forward-thinking vision, Sawayama returned with her 2020 eponymous full-length debut. From nu-metal, club beats, to veritable pop anthems, SAWAYAMA emerged as a genre-defying showcase of an avant-garde pop star.

Arlo Parks

Listening to Arlo Parks’ music is akin to sipping on a hot cup of chamomile tea as you watch the world slowly pass by your living room window. It is a testament to the British poet and singer-songwriter’s subtle yet beautiful way with words, the way in which each lyric serves as a glance into a tightly-held memory or passing observation. These poetic musings come to life in her debut album, Collapsed In Sunbeams, which layers lyrical revelations over some of the most tender R&B of recent memory. Parks’ is more than a must-listen; she feels like the birth of a new wave.

Claud

Claud has spent the past few years making a name for themselves in the indie pop world, and the culmination of it all arrives in their debut album, Super Monster. The acclaimed album sees Claud reckoning with coming-of-age and love with an irresistible charm. Pair that with a penchant for grounded, affective songwriting and infectious, dreamlike melodies and you have one of the best debuts of recent memory. In case you somehow need any further convincing that Claud is one to watch, Super Monster marks the debut release from Phoebe Bridgers’ Saddest Factory Records.

UMI

Equally as inspired by R&B and neo-soul as she is by her generation’s penchant for blurring genre lines, UMI and her music exist as a form of spiritual healing. Half-Black and half-Japanese, her work explores everything from identity to self-introspection, such as on the aptly-titled Introspection. It is a fondness for self-exploration that UMI delves headfirst into on her 2019 EP Love Language, a sublime blend of identity struggles, love, and anime that tackles the issue of always feeling like an other, never Black or Japanese enough.

Joesef

Sad boy summer. It’s the simplest way to being explaining Joesef’s serene albeit somber sound. Emerging out of Glasgow, the quickly rising star often wears his still bleeding heart on his sleeve, even when the underlying sonics seem to be moving onto greener pastures. It is an exquisite balancing act that comes to life on his 2020 EP, Does It Make You Feel Good?. Blending elements of soft-spoken R&B, jazz, and ethereal pop, Joesef sets himself apart as an artist whose influences and appeal know no bounds.

Serena Isioma

At the top of the year, we named Serena Isioma one of our top artists to watch in the year to come, and for good reason. The self-proclaimed “nonbinary rock star” experienced a breakout moment with “Sensitive,” a track that is difficult to perfectly encapsulate but think along the lines of fusing modern-day R&B and woozy indie-pop with reckless abandon, and you’ll be about halfway there. It was an impressive standout track that was only buoyed by a pair of EPs, Sensitive and The Leo Sun Sets, in 2020, officially cementing Isioma as an artist like no other.

Khai Dreams

Khai Dreams’ music is effortlessly easygoing. With its straightforward guitar lines and understated production, every track from the Pacific Northwest singer-songwriter flows out as naturally as breathing. Maybe it’s that laid-back approach that begins to explains Khai Dreams’ universal appeal and millions of monthly listeners, despite releasing most of his music independently. A hallmark of the DIY generation and its massive homebrewed potential, it would be a crying shame if you didn’t let Khai Dream’s serene meditations transport you somewhere far from here.

Frances Forever

Like much of their Gen Z cohorts, Frances Forever’s exponential rise was not the result of a well-executed marketing plan but by the pure chance of a single song finding a home online. The song in question, “Space Girl,” was originally part of NPR’s Tiny Desk Content before soon blowing up on TikTok, and it’s not hard to see why. Short, sweet, and to the point, “Space Girl” is a saccharine love letter to that bubbly feeling of floating on cloud nine. Now signed to Mom+Pop and with their debut EP, Paranoia Party, due out later this year, this is the perfect time to get familiar with Frances Forever.

Dorian Electra

Unapologetically playing with gender norms and stereotypes while seeing just how far they can push the limits of pop, Dorian Electra has long maintained a cult following in the world of experimental, highly addictive hyperpop. And it’s not hard to see why. Having collaborated with the likes of Charli XCX, 100 gecs, Village People, Pussy Riot, Rebecca Black, and more, Electra’s music ranges from off-the-rails hyperpop to introspective pop slow burns. All of this and more reaches a fever pitch in their 2020 album My Agenda, a devious showcasing of one of pop’s most explosive figures.

MAY-A

Maya Cumming, professionally known as MAY-A, is no stranger to the hustle it takes to make it in the music industry. The Australian artist got her start entering numerous singing competitions in her hometown of Byron Bay and started busking on the streets at the tender age of 11. Now, she has a breakout single under her belt in the form of “Apricots,” an anthemic indie-pop ode to queer love. And since that breakout moment, MAY-A has continued to release impressive single after single—the latest being the collaborative “American Dream.”

[chainofclovers]

Ted Lasso 2x6 thoughts

I felt like the physical embodiment of a series of iconic reaction GIFs while watching this episode. I felt like Higgins gagging on air and right and wrong choices. As an invested, non-casual Ted Lasso viewer, I feel quite absorbed in the experience of every episode, but I’m not usually a LOUD non-casual Ted Lasso viewer. At one point last night, I shouted “This is the wackiest show ever made!” at @bristler, and that doesn’t even sound like something I would say. And by “wacky” I just meant “all the emotions are happening at once.”

This episode was absolutely great and I knew that every single Rebecca Welton feeling I have would intensify because of this episode and that is exactly what happened.

This is me bravely writing down my episode thoughts after only one viewing (just like last week) and a bad night of sleep! Copious spoilers and emotions ahead...

This show goes all in on hats! A lot of bad hats for giving bad relationship advice and making bad decisions! Feel like you’re gonna do something correctly? Just put on a bad hat, that’ll snap you right out of it. Just had a revelation that you are almost certainly in an abusive relationship? Your girlfriend is hiding in the parking lot with a terrible hat for you! (I love this show.)

Dark forest dark forest dark forest dark forest.

I truly, truly, truly do not mean this to sound judgmental of any other fan, but it’s taking everything in my power not to just type “dark forest” in the comments of every person who is outraged that LDN152 is not Ted.

Gonna get my initial thoughts on the Sam=LDN152 reveal out of the way. I honestly like this choice.

First, I like this choice because of who LDN152 isn’t. I think about how awful it would be if she’d matched with Rupert and realized she’d been manipulated by him and charmed by him all over again, and how, when she gets the same reveal the audience already has, she would end up retraumatized by having been charmed and taken in by Rupert all over again. I think about her matching with Nate (if he’d redownloaded the app) and the inadequacy of her assertiveness advice and how Nate is one of the only non-Rupert characters who’s used sexist language against her and how Nate’s insecurities would be like water trying to co-exist with the oil of Rebecca’s insecurities. Nate and Rebecca are fond of each other and seem to want to be in each other’s lives, but a romantic squishing together via dating app would set them both back lightyears. I think about her matching with Ted, a man currently on a parallel-to-Rebecca trek through a very painfully dark forest, a man swinging wildly between performative attempted wit and utter panic. A man she trusts with her professional and personal challenges. [Her challenging mother comes to town and Keeley and Ted are the people she wants with her at lunch.] Ted and Rebecca, with all their current limitations, and with all the ways the forest obscures the view, are trying to be there for each other in their real, non-romantic comedy versions of their lives, and the discomfort of matching on an app seems like the kind of thing that would make them rear back from each other instead of bringing them even closer together. It is not time. It is so profoundly not time that I would have been furious if the writers had continued the “maybe it’s Ted?” line of thought for another second longer than they did.

Second, I like this choice because of who Sam is. I know. He’s not an appropriate match for her. The power dynamics are all messed up and their ages are all wrong. But this does introduce a potentially interesting parallel between Rupert and his younger women and the scrutiny Rebecca would risk herself and Sam experiencing if she goes for it. Rebecca seems to have tried to put away her Rupert-related trauma, but the specter of Rupert is lurking, and I do see that being a good person making an ethically complicated decision with another good person is very different from being an abuser setting out to take advantage of multiple people...but there are parallels she might have to reckon with. Also, Sam is a kind person with a strong ethical center and a well-documented interest in Rebecca. He and Ted helped each other feel more at home in London during a time of deeply missing other homes, and Sam has internalized a lot of Ted’s ways of living in a way that might genuinely appeal to Rebecca even if she doesn’t fully realize why. The writers on this show don’t write messes for the sake of drama. They write messes because life is painful and complicated and also very funny. I’d be shocked if, however this Bantr thing plays out, it isn’t painful and complicated and also funny.

(I am already a little worried that whatever happens next is going to activate some very ironic fan reactions given this is a show whose thesis statement is about withholding judgment. This fear is based not on Ted Lasso-specific knowledge but on unfortunate patterns of fandom, but...you can fear the impact of racist, sexist, and ageist tropes on two beloved characters without embodying those tropes as a viewer. You can watch characters make decisions that could subject them to harmful scrutiny without performing that harm yourself.)

Ted Lasso is a fictional character who tweeted about the joy of eating out (you know...at the Crown and Anchor) the day before 2x6 launched and during 2x6 Rebecca invited him to eat out at the Crown and Anchor. (I love this show.) I am so, so, so fond of all the little lunch-y things in this episode. Ted can’t bring Henry his lunch because he’s “at work” aka living in London. Ted and Beard surprise each other with secret sandwiches on Fridays. Rebecca is overwhelmed by her mother’s visit (her mother’s performance of a harmful pattern) and wants Keeley and Ted there. The scene at the Crown and Anchor, as painful as all the divorce/separation feelings were, was also so homey and lovely in terms of these characters being friends, being at home in a place despite the very not-at-home feelings emanating from Deborah. The Bake-Off viewing! Ted being the designated driver (probably a good thing on this particular day)! Rebecca feeling discomfort but not shutting down! Also cute British pub feelings. Evidence that Rebecca has talked to her mom about Ted! About personal things about Ted!

Naaaaaaate. His bursts of confidence and insight. The pain and insecurity and anger almost literally bubbling under the surface.

I cannot say enough good things about Higgins. He’s grown so much, and his decision to be honest with Beard regarding his concerns about Jane was absolutely impeccably done. Many, many trusted people in Higgins’ life told him not to do it. They are all good people, and they were all wrong. Sometimes one human being’s honesty makes the difference for someone who is struggling, and that’s exactly what happened here. Beard truly heard Higgins. And of course he didn’t immediately break things off with Jane. But he heard Higgins, and when Jane showed up Beard’s face looked different than it ever has, and Higgins words are with him as he walks off into the night with Jane and that might save him. And Rebecca witnessed it.

And I’m so glad she witnessed Higgins’ choice in the midst of this very difficult experience of a) trying to find Ted because she knows he’s in pain and being unable to and b) watching her mother repeat a pattern that Rebecca herself was able to break. It taught me so much about Rebecca. The way she was punished (and described the experience using the language of punishment) for having an honest reaction to her mother’s decision to leave her father the first time. The way she was taught that love is conditional, that love and reconciliation are things you can purchase with gifts. The way her mother uses the language of self-help without internalizing what it would take to heal, and probably has little use for actual therapy. The way her mother drinks alcohol as a way to feel free.

I don’t even know how to think, much less write, about everything with Roy’s coaching and his image and how Ted feels about it and all the fatherhood things Jamie brings up and all the fatherhood things Ted is missing w/r/t Nate and everyone except for Rebecca taking at face value (or willfully deciding to take at face value) the idea that Ted’s panic attack is actually just him needing to go barf up a fish pie. Ted hugging his backpack in Sharon’s office. Rebecca trying to find him, and Sharon being the one who does. The words “I wanna make an appointment” being the words that conclude the episode at the exact midpoint of the planned-for show. Halfway through the middle season. The moment Ted realizes he’s never going to be okay if he doesn’t give therapy a try.

I also can’t say enough good things about the moment with the team and Sharon, the way she agrees to one drink, the way it’s clear that she adores them all. Sharon is exacting and professional without being cold and calculating, and everything she does in this episode is such a gorgeous model of assertiveness, patience, and moderation...three things Ted struggles with the most.

What a dark forest. What an excellent group of humans.

[songbirdstyles]

kodachrome.

summary: you give harry a camera for his birthday and the two of you are more than excited to put it to good use.

warnings: smut, 18+

word count: 5k

song inspo.: kodachrome - paul simon

It’s true that you may have had ulterior motives with Harry’s birthday gift.

His hands are delicate, fingertips running across the surface of the Polaroid camera as though he’d break it if his grip got any tighter. The packs of film you’d purchased with the camera rest on the coffee table, being thoroughly ignored while Harry examines his gift, and you duck your head just a bit to read his expression. Slightly confused, brows furrowed, a small grin tugging at his lips - it’s what you’d expected with a gift like this, because it isn’t as though either of you need a camera. Surely both of your phones are better quality than the photos you’ll be taking with the Polaroid but it’s for the aesthetic, you suppose. 

“Do you like it?” you question, voice soft. 

Harry rests the camera on his lap and glances up at you, large hand moving to rest over your knee through your jeans. “Well, I love it, ‘course.”

There’s a second part of his response that’s left unsaid - perhaps the question of why you’d gotten him it - so you lean in, chin resting on your boyfriend’s shoulder and your lips drifting dangerously close to his ear. Just enough that you know his jeans are growing tighter and he shifts in his seat on your living room couch as if to prove it to you. “Thought it might be fun to start taking pictures of each other.”

A beat passes with silence, and then he turns his head to look at you, nearly bemused by the concept, as though he doesn’t know exactly what you’re implying. “Wha’ kinda pictures?”

You hum softly, reaching over to the coffee table to pick up one of the film packages, already beginning to tear open the wrapper. “The kind that’ll make touring more fun for both of us.”

Harry pauses, eyes narrowing at your fingers ripping open the crinkly film packaging, and you can practically hear his rebuttal of the idea before he says it. “Thought we said no nudes - people could find ‘em, babe.”

“Physical copies are more secure than digital ones,” you tell him, picking up the camera from his lap to put the film in. “Are you telling me you don’t want to take pictures of me sucking you off to have with you on tour? ‘Cause that’s very out of character for you, Mr. Styles.”

He snorts and the familiar sound is like music to your ears, and then he reaches over to grab the film-loaded Polaroid from your hands, fingers tracing over the small rainbow printed on the front of the camera. “I do,” he confesses, voice dropping in a way you recognize all too well, and your stomach drops with it. “Yeah, I do.”

You lean sideways, resting against the arm of the couch as Harry shifts to face you, raising the camera up to his face with a grin gracing his lips that doesn’t at all match the mood of what you do next - mere seconds before Harry takes the picture, you grip onto the hem of your shirt, tugging it up and over your chest for the camera to capture as his mouth drops into a soft ‘o.’

The click of the photo being taken is nearly deafening against the sudden thick silence, flash blinding you for just a moment and you’re left blinking furiously to regain sight as Harry lowers the camera to his lap. The camera spits out the photo, still white and undeveloped, and he picks it up with delicate fingers to rest it on the couch cushion between you two.

Your shirt drops back over your chest as you shift closer to Harry, pretending like you don’t hear the way his breathing has picked up and how his eyes keep darting to examine your side profile as if trying to see if you’re as affected as the photo as he is - and you are, of course. It’s possibly one of the hottest things you could ever imagine doing with him, taking photos like that, and you can’t lie and say that the redness blooming in his cheeks isn’t adding to the moisture you’re feeling in your panties.

You drag your thumb over the image slowly developing on the Polaroid between you. You can see the beginnings of the outline of your body, though it’s too light to discern the details yet. “Starting to come to. What do you think?”

It’s a stupid question and you already know the answer but it’s more gratifying to hear the way Harry’s voice cracks as he begins, “S’hot.”

“Just hot?”

“Like, g’na cum in m’pants hot.”

You grin and Harry turns his head and it’s practically all you can do to lean in, press your lips to his and feel his hand, pressing to your thigh and sliding upwards. Even through your jeans, his fingers so close to the spot you’re yearning for him has your stomach turning, and you raise your palm to press delicately against his cheek, holding his face close to yours. His breath smells and tastes like the birthday cake you’d been eating in the kitchen with a tinge of expensive wine from dinner with all of your friends but above all he tastes like Harry, the man you love so much, the man who’s reaching down to the couch between you two and picking up the Polaroid with two careful fingers.

“Look,” Harry hums softly as he pulls away from you and you look down at the picture to examine it with him. It’s you, in full color, fingers gripping the hem of your shirt tight above your breasts, exposing the cherry-red bra you’re donning beneath. It’s Harry’s favorite bra of yours -  meant to be a surprise for later tonight but you don’t think he’ll mind seeing it early. The photo cuts off halfway up your face but you can see your smirk, smug as you saw the shock on his face just as the photo took. “S’developed.”

 --

 Harry’s soft moans are like music to your ears - like a favorite song and you’d love nothing more than to listen to it on repeat, plug in your headphones and tilt your head back until it’s stuck in your head like an earworm.

For now, though, you’re more than content to enjoy them in the moment, and God, you’re enjoying it. He’s always vocal in bed but even more so when you ride him, when his fingers are digging bruises into your thighs to help your movements up and down and the only words that manage to fall off of his lips are breathy cries of your name like prayer, as though you’re a goddess and he’s merely a worshipper at your altar.

Your hips slow into a gentle roll against his, clit brushing up against his pelvic bone in a way that has a chill rolling up your spine, and your hand slides from its place on Harry’s chest to his throat. Wraps around his neck just so, squeezing experimentally to listen to the way his moans crackle in the thick, humid air of your London bedroom, and a rush of arousal gushes to your core at the sight and sound.

“Look at me,” you order Harry, and you think you understand why he’s always so reluctant to hand you the reins when you want them. There’s something special about being above him, knowing that you can control what he does with just an authoritative lilt in your voice - even if he has the strength to flip you over at any moment. Deep down, you reckon he likes being below you sometimes just as much as you adore being on top. When he doesn’t obey your commands, eyes still rolled to the back of his head, you pause your movements completely, and his eyes fly open as if you’d pried them open. “Look at me, Har.”

You tighten your hand around his throat again as his eyes bore into yours, pupils clouded with lust that you’re sure are reflected in your own. When you’re positive he won’t look away from you, his hips bucking up in just the slightest for any semblance of movement, you resume your motions. Roll your hips just once against his, moan catching in your throat, and you keep going. You lift your hips up, thighs trembling to hold yourself up before sinking back down, feeling him fill you again and again.

“Fuck -” Harry gasps, tone cracking and you grin down at him, slamming your hips into his hard enough that the sound of skin slapping skin nearly overpowers his voice - but it doesn’t, and you’re oh so glad that you could hear it. “Feels - feels so good, babe.”

As dominant as you’re trying to be, his praise nearly makes you break and it would be the perfect moment for him to grab your thighs and flip you over but you regain your composure just as fast as you’d lost it. Your voice is shaky as you loosen your grip ever so slightly on his neck, leaning backwards enough so your clit is on display for him, glistening wet with the mixture of your juices together. “R - rub my clit for me.”

And he complies, hand sliding down his sweaty abdomen until two fingers are pressed to your clit, rubbing soft circles into the overly sensitive nub but you don’t want soft, you want hard. So you push your body forward, pressing your clit further into his fingers and he’s not stupid - he catches the hint and presses down harder, circles tightening into hard rubs that has your head dropping back, sweaty hair sticking to your back.

“God,” you tell him, rocking your hips more against his as a reward, “feels so good, Har. Doin’ so good - keep doing that.”

And he does, of course. Keeps rubbing your clit like he was born for it and in return you ride him with the new form of vigor that he earns, eyes rolling back into your head. When you look back down at him, grip tightening like a noose around his throat, you’re nearly overwhelmed by how fucking spectacular he looks. All sweaty hair, mouth dropped open in a permanent ‘o’ and his eyes struggling to stay open.

You could decide to merely engrave it in your brain for all eternity, but you have a better idea to memorialize it.

You swallow thickly, hips slowing to a near halt as Harry’s eyes fly completely open, threatening to complain. “R - reach into the drawer, Har. The nightstand.”

You can read the confusion on his face clear as day but he follows your orders, reaching over to tug open the nightstand drawer. Sitting inside, clear as day, sits the white Polaroid camera, and Harry knows what to do before you tell him to. He picks it up with one shaky hand and you immediately reach to grab it from him, turning it over briefly in your hands before raising it up to your face.

Briefly your hips roll over his, gentle but enough for him to rest his head back into his pillow, lips turning upwards into a satisfied grin and you know that’s the best shot you’ll get - his face contorted with pleasure, hair spread out over the pillow, and the flash of the picture being taken only makes the scene look that much more angelic.

You grab the photo with two shaking fingers and lift it up to examine it, resting the camera on the bed beside you. It hasn’t developed and so you shake it just for a moment, feeling increasingly needy to fucking see it but you know it will take time - and you certainly have a lot of that.

“Open up,” you direct and he obeys, mouth dropping open and you insert the picture onto his mouth, watching his teeth and lips clamp onto it. “Now, keep it nice like that ‘till it develops. You can do that, can’t you? ‘Course you can.”

 --

 “Keep those eyes on me, babe.”

It’s a task that’s easier said than done, eyes rolling nearly completely back in your head as you search to meet Harry’s. When your eyes find his it’s difficult to maintain, vision nearly completely upside down as you hang off the edge of the bed of your Malibu hotel room, fingers gripping so tight onto the duvet you’d be surprised if your nails hadn’t torn through the fabric. Gripping the coversis the only way to not reach out for Harry’s thighs and he’d forbid you from doing so with the threat of not being able to cum - a risk you’re rather unwilling to take.

His fingers brush your neck, surely searching for the bulge indicative of how far his cock is shoved down your throat, and you can tell he’s found it when he squeezes just hard enough to have your vision go fuzzy. Your tongue swirls around the swollen tip of his cock, feeling him slide out of your mouth just enough for you to press a gentle kiss to the tip, his hiss showing how much he appreciated the gesture before he’s pushing back in your mouth.

He’d been starting slow, fucking your throat gentle to make sure you’re alright with it. It’s not often that you do this - you prefer to be on your knees for him, with his hands in your hair to occasionally force you to go faster. But there is certainly something better about this, struggling to keep your eyes open and feeling blood rush to your head while trying to keep your sore jaw wide open for Harry to fuck.

Eventually, though, the slow pace had been abandoned and you can feel him picking up the pace, hips bucking into your face just fast enough to make you feel like you’re losing your damn mind but you wouldn’t have it any other way, even if you’re nearly gagging on him with every other thrust.

“God,” Harry moans, and through your blurred vision you can see his palms coming down to cup your face, using his leverage on your cheeks to increase his speed. “God, look so fuckin’ - fuckin’ pretty, baby. So pretty, takin’ my dick so well. Look at tha’ - moan f’me, babe.”

And you do, of course. You moan desperately and it’s muffled as his pelvis presses nearly flat to your face, holding himself there, and your cheeks hollow as you suck him, and you watch him toss his head back with sheer ecstasy and it encourages you to hold out for just another extra second before your hand flies towards his thigh, smacking twice, and he pulls out of you immediately until only the tip of his member rests on your tongue.

His thumbs massage your jawline as you flick your tongue over the tip of his cock, taking the second of pause to catch your breath and relish in his touch. It’s only a moment, though - you jerk your head just once up and he takes the gesture as it is, an invitation to keep going.

“There y’go,” Harry breathes, hands sliding downwards until he’s grasping your throat, heels of his hands massaging the lump in your throat as he had before. “Should take a picture of you - remember this forever.”

Do it, you want to shout at him. You love when he takes pictures and you’d love nothing more than to see yourself from his perspective but it seems that he didn’t need your suggestion - resting on the bed is his Polaroid camera from when you’d dumped your bags when you’d first gotten to the hotel and it’s become a traveling staple since you’d gotten it for him - you two never forget to bring it with you.

His fumbling hands raise the camera to his face, cock still thrusting in and out of your willing mouth and you make sure your eyes are open when the flash goes off, the click intensely loud in the hotel room. Your tongue swirls around his cock, grinning as Harry pulls the photo from the bottom of the camera and tosses it onto the bed, hand sliding down from your throat to your tits and his fingers pluck at your nipple just as the flash goes off again and the camera spurts out another image.

“Here’s what’s gonna happen,” your boyfriend murmurs, hips thrusting his cock further into your mouth and you gag around him before loosening your throat to take him, no way of encouraging him to continue but he doesn’t need it. “M’so fuckin’ close - and m’gonna cum on your face, and in your mouth, too. D’you want that?”

You nod.

“Knew you would.” His face is nearly adoring as he stares down at you and it’s an expression that doesn’t match the absolute filth of what’s in your mouth. “When I’ve painted your face like - like fuckin’ Michelangelo - m’gonna take another picture, and then m’gonna fuck you.”

It sounds just about perfect to you and you nod vehemently, Harry’s palm closing in around your breast and squeezing and in turn, you tighten your throat around his length and it gets the response you’d wanted - a sharp buck of his hips, and then he pulls out of your mouth.

Your lips close in around the tip of his cock, sucking on the swollen head and you can tell by the way his head drops back that he’s there - just a moment later, his hand pumping his cock, thick ribbons of cum spurt from the head and it’s warm as it lands on your face, and your tongue darts out to lick at the bit of it that had landed near your lips.

His breathing is heavy, desperately trying to catch his breath and it has a rush of pride coursing through your veins - only you do this to him, leave him needy and desperate and just as the smirk graces your lips, he’s muttering, “Say cheese,” and the flash illuminates your hotel room once more.

 --

 There’s something almost relaxing about having Harry’s face between your thighs.

It’s a sensation you’ll never tire of no matter how often it happens - and with his absolute adoration for the act, it happens often. Sometimes it’s hard and intense, fingers digging into your thighs and leaving bruises that won’t vanish for days, but other times - like now - it’s nearly offhanded. Lazy and gentle, his tongue swirling around your clit as your fingers lightly brush through your hair, your free hand clutching Harry’s Polaroid, waiting for the best moment to take the picture you’re yearning.

Your fingernails scratch at his scalp, digging deeper into his head as his teeth brush against your clit just enough to have your back arching upwards, hips bucking up into his mouth as a soft moan escapes your  throat. You can practically feel Harry smirking as his tongue rests flat over your folds, juices gushing to the apex of your thighs at the motion.

His breath is hot against your cunt as his lips close around your clit, tongue flicking over the sensitive bud and his palms smooth up and down your thighs, gently holding your lower body down before your hips can buck up to meet his mouth again. “Try not to move,” Harry mumbles against your pussy, voice sending vibrations rolling through your body and a chill slithers up your spine, head dropping back onto the arm of your living room couch. The movie playing on the television - Groundhog Day - has been long forgotten, abandoned from the moment he pushed you to lie on the couch and pushed off your sweatpants. “C’mon, baby - stay still f’me.”

You swallow thickly, raising the camera to your face and peering at Harry through the small screen. You can’t see his face - just the mess of curls on top of his head and your fingers combing through the locks - his palms, smoothing over your thighs gently - his eyelashes, on display while his eyes remain shut with pleasure. He tells you, again and again, that he loves eating you out more than you do and you’ve always rolled your eyes because there’s no way in hell he likes it more than you -

But sometimes you do believe him.

“Do that again, Har,” you murmur, voice dropping into a breathy cry as Harry repeats what you’d asked him to, his nose nudging at your clit while his tongue flicks at your folds. It’s at that moment that you take the first picture, flash illuminating the slick that coats your mound in a way you hadn’t noted before - at the sudden brightness Harry looks up and you can see your wetness surrounding his chin and mouth, pure proof of how hard he’s been working your cunt, and you take another picture.

The two images fall into your palms and you rest them on your stomach, tugging your shirt further up your torso so they lay flat on your skin. Harry’s eyes drift upwards for just a moment, scanning the faded outline of your legs wrapped around his shoulders and you can see the beginnings of a smirk working his lips before he turns back to the task at hand, tongue parting your cunt before it slips inside of you, thrusting in and out.

“Fuck,” you breathe, legs tightening around his shoulders and forcing his head further into your cunt, and he moans into your folds at the motion. “Fuck!”

“Y’like tha’?” Harry questions, voice rolling through your body again and you toss your head back with a moaning sob, pushing your hips further up to him. “Yeah, y’do.”

“Har -” you swallow thickly as his lips close around your clit, cheeks hollowing as he sucks. “Har - oh my god, I’m gonna - gonna cum -”

“Cum f’me,” and his voice is gruff and desperate, practically a plead for you to cum on his tongue, to bless him with your juices. “Cum on m’tongue.”

Whatever he’d been spouting before about keeping still is long forgotten, your hips bucking upwards to meet his mouth as your orgasm washes through you. It’s intense and near brutal, not any sort of match for the energy Harry had been maintaining but it doesn’t matter - it’s so relieving that you don’t try to fight it, just let your body relax and your head fall back with what’s nearly a scream.

His flexed tongue continues lazily thrusting in and out of your cunt, helping you through your orgasm like it hadn’t affected him one bit but you know that isn’t true. You can see his lips, turned into a grin and his eyes darkened when he glances up at you, hands on your thighs sliding across your skin until his thumbs lazily pull apart your lips, giving him easier access to the parts of you he craves.

He’s going for your second orgasm - you know that. And you also know it won’t be too long until you get there, especially when his thumb focuses on your clit, massaging the over-sensitive nub as your cunt clenches vehemently around his tongue. 

Click. One final picture, of Harry’s hands and face pressed to your pussy, devoted to getting you off and not worried in the slightest about his own neediness. When you’ve rested it to your stomach, next to the other two fully-developed images, you let your arm fall off the side of the couch, letting the camera slip from your fingers and land silently on the carpet, more than intent to focus solely on your boyfriend between your thighs.

Within moments you’re at the edge again, Harry’s face deepening between your thighs to help you ride out your second. Your hips roll against his lips, his thumbs rubbing your clit until you’re sobbing out towards the ceiling, heels digging into his back and forcing his body towards yours. You’re so lost in the sensation, in fact - and on the developed Polaroids sitting on your tummy - you hardly register his mumble of, “Think y’got a third one f’me?” But when you do -

Fuck.

 --

On Harry’s next birthday, you have a very different gift idea planned.

The plane tickets to Greece were the main course - a vacation you’d both dreamt of taking for as long as you’d known each other and you’d never gotten around to it, but you figure there’s no time like the present to knock it off your bucket list. And you could tell Harry was overjoyed, turning and wrapping you in a hug so large you nearly fell off of your seat in the middle of his favourite restaurant.

The side to the main course, though - the appetizer? - is what you’d been waiting for him to open, and not in the middle of the restaurant. It’s only when you two get home, your arms hooked together, giggling like teenagers as Harry fumbles with his keys, that you pull out the small envelope with his name scribbled on the front in red pen.

“Go ahead,” you tell him, pushing yourself to sit on the marble countertops in your kitchen while Harry situates himself between your legs, turning the envelope over in his hands with the same lingering curiosity he’d held last year. “It’s not gonna bite you, Har. Just open it.”

He rolls his eyes at that, a grin tugging his lips upwards as his fingers dig into the paper, tearing the envelope delicately open and you can tell he’s trying not to rough up the wrapper too much, in case he’ll want to keep it for sentimentality but you’re positive that, once he finds what’s inside, he won’t care too much.

Then he dumps the contents of the envelope onto your lap, ten small Polaroid pictures falling onto your dress where it covers your thighs, some face up and some down and as soon as Harry’s eyes scan then, you can see the red blush creeping up his cheeks.

“You fuckin’ minx,” he breathes, and you grin, leaning forward to drop your forehead against his shoulder just as Harry picks up the first Polaroid. Turning it over in his hands you glance down to look at which one he’s examining - it’s a close up he’d taken, his palm wrapped around your neck tight enough that his fingers turned white and you can remember the exact moment. How you’d whined and begged him to go harder, to God, fuck me like a whore, Har, and he’d responded by grabbing your throat so tight you saw stars before he released you.

“I like that one,” you confess, nail dragging over the edge of your jawline where it’s cut off by the camera before you reach down to your lap, overturning every image so you can see them all before grabbing one. “This one - it’s my favorite, though.”

You hold the picture up for Harry to see, watching his eyes narrow as he scrutinizes it. It’s a picture of his back, taken when he’d been bent over putting on pants the morning after Valentine’s Day - you’d intended to be inconspicuous, memorializing the array of deep red scratches you’d left on his skin the night before and you were beyond grateful when you saw the developed image. He’d complained when he heard the click of the camera, telling you that if anyone gets their hands on this, they’ll think I’m being abused - but you knew he liked it, because you caught him peeking at it on your dresser during the next few weeks.

It’s a nice thing to do to include it in his gift, though you’d love nothing more than to frame it on your wall to have there forever.

Harry hums gently, grabbing the picture from your fingers and dropping it back to your lap. You can feel his fingertips, drumming along your thighs as he sorts through the photos. “I remember this one,” he tells you, picking up the end of one of the pictures so you can both see it. Your cheeks flush when you see it - you’d picked it to commemorate the very first (and certainly not the last) time the two of you had tried anal. “God, came so fuckin’ hard tha’ day. Look at tha’ - how red your ass is, fuckin’ beginn’ be to spank you -”

“Alright,” you interrupt, feeling heat creep up your neck to your cheeks as you smack the photo out of his hands. It’s a shaky picture, taken while he was balls deep in your ass, his palm spreading your cheeks apart to get the best angle of his cock inside of you - you remember how good it felt, watching the flash illuminate the room and hearing Harry moan as the photo developed where he’d placed it on your back. The Polaroid lands back on your lap and you reach down, sorting through the array of images until you find the one you’re searching for. “Here - thought you’d like this one the most.”

And - God - when he sees it, grabbing it out of your hands to examine up close, you swear you can hear him whine with need as he brings it up to his eyes. It’s a photo of the two of you in front of a floor-to-ceiling mirror that had been at one of your hotel rooms and neither of you could pass up the chance to watch yourselves during the moment. Your dress, pulled down over your chest, his hand covering your breasts with his head buried in your neck, and you remember feeling him pressed inside of you, both so desperate and needy that you needed to capture it.

“I was right, wasn’t I?” You prod, pressing your lips to the side of Harry’s throat as his head drops to the side. It was, perhaps, the best sex you two had ever had - you couldn’t walk for a week without thinking of him. “You love it.”

“I do love it,” he confirms, hand snaking around your side to begin tugging your dress up your sides. “Reckon it’s not too early to start working on another year’s worth of pictures?”