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longtammw · 1 year

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devilofsf-cisco · 1 year

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I posted 547 times in 2022

That's 547 more posts than 2021!

81 posts created (15%)

466 posts reblogged (85%)

Blogs I reblogged the most:

@dr-astrid-zhang

@chris-grimaldi

@xaviernottheprofessor

@emmie-fitzgerald

@castillodeleon

I tagged 547 of my posts in 2022

#astrid - 195 posts

#chris - 77 posts

#chris text - 61 posts

#astrid text - 27 posts

#taking the plunge para - 24 posts

#dos oruguitas para - 20 posts

#try everything para - 20 posts

#meet the family para - 18 posts

#love language para - 17 posts

#swtask - 17 posts

Longest Tag: 113 characters

#//this reply cracked me up. not even shared his career and he's out here talking about loincloths and unitards xd

My Top Posts in 2022:

“Tell me you’ve swiped some of the finger foods,” Cisco said, tipping his cocktail class to his lips. Once he lickd away remnants from his lips, he smiled, “You look great by the way. Consider this me asking you to save me a dance at some point tonight. And with the unwritten rules of birthdays and birthday parties, I’m about ninety-nine percent sure you can’t say ‘no’.”

40 notes - Posted September 23, 2022

Try Everything | Astro

@dr-astrid-zhang

It was Cisco’s turn to pick an activity for he and Astrid’s Try Something New Sundays. During the weeks since coming back from the island, he’d been working on building his strength back up from the months away from the gym, and he was possibly joining a new filming project soon. But he enjoyed the time he would get with Astrid, especially on Sundays with their new tradition.

He’d just gotten out of the shower and dressed in a simple outfit of jeans and a v-neck t-shirt, and as he walked to the living room, he was greeted by Ace and Daisy. “Hey you rascals,” he replied, rubbing their heads and patting their backs with each hand. “Where’s your mum at?” he asked, watching them casuall wander away.

41 notes - Posted July 9, 2022

Text | Astro

Cisco: Hey darling, when you get this, I've got some great news to share.

47 notes - Posted July 24, 2022

Taking the Plunge | Astro

@dr-astrid-zhang

Wanting to spend some more one-on-one time together, Cisco invited Astrid for an easygoing hike and a swim thereafter. Having jogged around the island daily, he had a good idea of how long it took to get to significant spots on the island. The waterfall wasn’t far at all, but Cisco figured they could take a scenic route to get there if they so chose. With the two of them now having bungalow access, he’d been well-rested, trimmed his mess of a beard, and was dressed for a nice time in the water with Astrid. While waiting outside of the bungalow for her, he’d done some light stretches, reaching down to his toes and doing some lunges, up until he saw her. “Hello, darling,” he greeted, smiling at the sight of her. “Ready to go?”

48 notes - Posted May 2, 2022

My #1 post of 2022

If, just hours earlier, you had told Cisco that the first thing he’d be doing upon joining the cast of this show was getting dressed like he was going on a hot date...only to be told to put on a giant dinosaur costume and board a yacht, he would’ve thought you’d gone crackers.

Yet here he was, boarding a yacht with a bunch of strangers. In a dinosaur costume. “Bloody hell,” was the first thing out of his mouth. He’d worn uncomfortable outfits. He’d been rigged to ball-crushing harnesses and wires that gave some God-awful wedgies. But this was something else entirely. And although he’d done his best to shrug it off and carry his usual ease and comfort, the situation didn’t stop him from telling the first person he crossed paths with, “I truly didn’t think I’d be wond’rin this early on just what I’d gotten myself into.”

54 notes - Posted February 11, 2022

Get your Tumblr 2022 Year in Review →

#tumblr2022 #year in review #my 2022 tumblr year in review #your tumblr year in review

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jamesv-t · 1 year

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Gig Survey 2022

It’s back! After the last two quiet years (2021 had two gigs, 2020 half that), my annual gig survey makes a welcome (to me, anyway) return. Previous years can be read at #gig-survey, and this year’s one can be found below the cut.

Top 5 shows of the year?

Muna, Chalk, 11th November

Against The Current, Chalk, 31st March

Poppy, Shepherds Bush Empire, 27th November

Lights, Chalk, 24th September

Carly Rae Jepsen, Somerset House, 11th July

Total number of shows?

Ten, significantly more than the last two years combined!

First show of the year?

Foxes, at Islington Assembly Hall, 2nd March.

Last show of the year?

Poppy, at Shepherd’s Bush Empire, November 27th.

Most surprising show?

Three different shows are tied for this, all of which took place at the same venue. In mid March Dana had been to see Bastille at Chalk, and while in the chippy that same night I noticed a pop-punk band were due to play there at the end of the month. I dropped £20 on the tickets, not expecting to go, and had a fantastic time watching Against The Current! Six months later I went along with Dana to a gig she’d bought a pair of tickets for, being vaguely aware of who Lights was, and had another fantastic time, so when she gently reminded me that she’d got an extra for Muna (a band I only really knew from one song with Phoebe Bridgers) I didn’t hesitate to accompany her, and was rewarded!

Most disappointing?

Foxes, not for the artist, but two years of not really going to gigs had made a lot of people forget their manners.

Farthest travelled?

Wembley arena, 56 miles or 90km from my front door.

States attended shows in?

Cheerful, grateful, euphoric, terrified, bored, knackered and achy.

Venue most visited?

Chalk in Brighton, three times.

Worst injury?

My legs were terribly achy for the Sigrid gig, after Muna the night before and a day around London.

Most expensive ticket?

I think perhaps Olivia Rodrigo? Or Carly?

Band seen the most?

No repeats, everyone was one and done.

Best new discovery?

As alluded to above, I didn't pay the greatest of attention to Against The Current, Lights or Muna before seeing them live. Witch Fever were a fun support for Poppy.

Bands seen this year that also broke up this year?

None!

Friends made at shows?

None! Just the two gigs on my own (ATC and Poppy) and I didn't feel particularly social at either.

Band members met?

None that I've seen live, but I've hung out with Billy and Camille from The Subways a couple of times in Brighton.

Best souvenir from a show?

Just the two band t-shirts this year, a £10 Against The Current one and a £30 Poppy one. I wanted to pay a fiver for a Foxes hoodie but they only had small sizes left.

Longest time in line?

The longest was before Olivia Rodrigo, which ended up queuing round the block but that didn't take long to clear.

Shows seen from the barricade [front row]?

But as a consequence, we didn't make the front row for any.

Most shows in one month?

November had three...

Most shows in one week?

... Including Muna and Sigrid in successive days.

Biggest crowd?

Probably Christina Aguilera at Pride.

Any drunk encounters?

No, surprisingly! I stayed restrained with my drinking, and nobody around me was annoyingly drunk either.

Top 5 best 2022 concert moments:

1. As Sophie Ellis-Bextor launched into her 2001 number 1 Groovejet (If This Ain't Love) at Brighton Pride, I casually remarked to Dana and her sister Sophie that it was the first song ever played on an iPod. One of the lads in front of me, apparently within earshot, turned to me and asked if it was true, then immediately said to his friend group "guys! You'll never guess what I just learned!"

2. On a similar note, talking to Ian before Carly, the conversation turned to Avril Lavigne and I brought up my planned jukebox musical (Complicated: An Avril Lavigne Musical). He thought I was joking right up until I showed him the Google Doc with the song list and rough plot outline. After reading through and conceding that, yes, I was serious and yes, that could actually work, one of the girls behind asked if she could read it as well!

3. A small one, but during the blisteringly hot Sunday at Brighton Pride, the sight of a goth chap dressed head to toe in black leather, white face paint and all, cheerfully tucking in a 99 ice cream (flake as well!)

4. Against The Current felt like the first proper gig since, well, the last time I did one of these. Chrissy commented that with the state of things, they didn't know how many shows they'd get to perform, so were committed to throwing themselves into each show 100% - and it showed!

5. Muna was amazing, everyone in stage and in the audience were fully up for it, and the crowd was genuinely the nicest crowd at a gig I've ever been in!

Top 3 worst 2022 concert moments:

1. Foxes showed that some people had forgotten how to behave at gigs in the two years without any - the most egregious being the woman listening to WhatsApp voice notes, without headphones, in the front row.

2. Sigrid was unfortunately timed directly after such a great gig the night before, and off the back of a full day in London, I was tired, achy and grumpy.

3. This should've had more gigs to choose from. We planned a trip to Germany to see a couple of Aly & AJ gigs in March which were cancelled; we ducked out of Wet Leg in April because I really didn't see the hype; Dana had to miss the Olivia Rodrigo and CRJ gigs because of real life getting in the way; Pale Waves cancelled an in store because one of the band was ill; we didn't go to Sugababes because I was ill; and finally didn't attempt six hours of travel for Tove Lo because of rail strikes.

#gig survey

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pinbanana · 2 years

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transgenderteensurvivalguide · 3 years

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“Elliot Page doesn’t remember exactly how long he had been asking.

But he does remember the acute feeling of triumph when, around age 9, he was finally allowed to cut his hair short. “I felt like a boy,” Page says. “I wanted to be a boy. I would ask my mom if I could be someday.” Growing up in Halifax, Nova Scotia, Page visualized himself as a boy in imaginary games, freed from the discomfort of how other people saw him: as a girl. After the haircut, strangers finally started perceiving him the way he saw himself, and it felt both right and exciting.

The joy was short-lived. Months later, Page got his first break, landing a part as a daughter in a Canadian mining family in the TV movie Pit Pony. He wore a wig for the film, and when Pit Pony became a TV show, he grew his hair out again. “I became a professional actor at the age of 10,” Page says. And pursuing that passion came with a difficult compromise. “Of course I had to look a certain way.”

We are speaking in late February. It is the first interview Page, 34, has given since disclosing in December that he is transgender, in a heartfelt letter posted to Instagram, and he is crying before I have even uttered a question. “Sorry, I’m going to be emotional, but that’s cool, right?” he says, smiling through his tears.

It’s hard for him to talk about the days that led up to that disclosure. When I ask how he was feeling, he looks away, his neck exposed by a new short haircut. After a pause, he presses his hand to his heart and closes his eyes. “This feeling of true excitement and deep gratitude to have made it to this point in my life,” he says, “mixed with a lot of fear and anxiety.”

It’s not hard to understand why a trans person would be dealing with conflicting feelings in this moment. Increased social acceptance has led to more young people describing themselves as trans—1.8% of Gen Z compared with 0.2% of boomers, according to a recent Gallup poll—yet this has fueled conservatives who are stoking fears about a “transgender craze.” President Joe Biden has restored the right of transgender military members to serve openly, and in Hollywood, trans people have never had more meaningful time onscreen. Meanwhile, J.K. Rowling is leveraging her cultural capital to oppose transgender equality in the name of feminism, and lawmakers are arguing in the halls of Congress over the validity of gender identities. “Sex has become a political football in the culture wars,” says Chase Strangio, deputy director for transgender justice at the ACLU.

(Full article with photos continued under the “read more”)

And so Page—who charmed America as a precocious pregnant teenager in Juno, constructed dreamscapes in Inception and now stars in Netflix’s hit superhero show The Umbrella Academy, the third season of which he’s filming in Toronto—expected that his news would be met with both applause and vitriol. “What I was anticipating was a lot of support and love and a massive amount of hatred and transphobia,” says Page. “That’s essentially what happened.” What he did not anticipate was just how big this story would be. Page’s announcement, which made him one of the most famous out trans people in the world, started trending on Twitter in more than 20 countries. He gained more than 400,000 new followers on Instagram on that day alone. Thousands of articles were published. Likes and shares reached the millions. Right-wing podcasters readied their rhetoric about “women in men’s locker rooms.” Casting directors reached out to Page’s manager saying it would be an honor to cast Page in their next big movie.

So, it was a lot. Over the course of two conversations, Page will say that understanding himself in all the specifics remains a work in progress. Fathoming one’s gender, an identity innate and performed, personal and social, fixed and evolving, is complicated enough without being under a spotlight that never seems to turn off. But having arrived at a critical juncture, Page feels a deep sense of responsibility to share his truth. “Extremely influential people are spreading these myths and damaging rhetoric—every day you’re seeing our existence debated,” Page says. “Transgender people are so very real.”

That role in Pit Pony led to other productions and eventually, when Page was 16, to a film called Mouth to Mouth. Playing a young anarchist, Page had a chance to cut his hair again. This time, he shaved it off completely. The kids at his high school teased him, but in photos he has posted from that time on social media he looks at ease. Page’s head was still shaved when he mailed in an audition tape for the 2005 thriller Hard Candy. The people in charge of casting asked him to audition again in a wig. Soon, the hair was back.

Page’s tour de force performance in Hard Candy led, two years later, to Juno, a low-budget indie film that brought Page Oscar, BAFTA and Golden Globe nominations and sudden megafame. The actor, then 21, struggled with the stresses of that ascension. The endless primping, red carpets and magazine spreads were all agonizing reminders of the disconnect between how the world saw Page and who he knew himself to be. “I just never recognized myself,” Page says. “For a long time I could not even look at a photo of myself.” It was difficult to watch the movies too, especially ones in which he played more feminine roles.

Page loved making movies, but he also felt alienated by Hollywood and its standards. Alia Shawkat, a close friend and co-star in 2009’s Whip It,describes all the attention from Juno as scarring. “He had a really hard time with the press and expectations,” Shawkat says. “‘Put this on! And look this way! And this is sexy!’”

By the time he appeared in blockbusters like X-Men: The Last Stand and Inception, Page was suffering from depression, anxiety and panic attacks. He didn’t know, he says, “how to explain to people that even though [I was] an actor, just putting on a T-shirt cut for a woman would make me so unwell.” Shawkat recalls Page’s struggles with clothes. “I’d be like, ‘Hey, look at all these nice outfits you’re getting,’ and he would say, ‘It’s not me. It feels like a costume,’” she says. Page tried to convince himself that he was fine, that someone who was fortunate enough to have made it shouldn’t have complaints. But he felt exhausted by the work required to “just exist,” and thought more than once about quitting acting.

In 2014, Page came out as gay, despite feeling for years that “being out was impossible” given his career. (Gender identity and sexual orientation are, of course, distinct, but one queer identity can coexist with another.) In an emotional speech at a Human Rights Campaign conference, Page talked about being part of an industry “that places crushing standards” on actors and viewers alike. “There are pervasive stereotypes about masculinity and femininity that define how we’re all supposed to act, dress and speak,” Page went on. “And they serve no one.”

The actor started wearing suits on the red carpet. He found love, marrying choreographer Emma Portner in 2018. He asserted more agency in his career, producing his own films with LGBTQ leads like Freeheld and My Days of Mercy. And he made a masculine wardrobe a condition of taking roles. Yet the daily discord was becoming unbearable. “The difference in how I felt before coming out as gay to after was massive,” says Page. “But did the discomfort in my body ever go away? No, no, no, no.”

In part, it was the isolation forced by the pandemic that brought to a head Page’s wrestling with gender. (Page and Portner separated last summer, and the two divorced in early 2021. “We’ve remained close friends,” Page says.) “I had a lot of time on my own to really focus on things that I think, in so many ways, unconsciously, I was avoiding,” he says. He was inspired by trailblazing trans icons like Janet Mock and Laverne Cox, who found success in Hollywood while living authentically. Trans writers helped him understand his feelings; Page saw himself reflected in P. Carl’s memoir Becoming a Man. Eventually “shame and discomfort” gave way to revelation. “I was finally able to embrace being transgender,” Page says, “and letting myself fully become who I am.”

This led to a series of decisions. One was asking the world to call him by a different name, Elliot, which he says he’s always liked. Page has a tattoo that says E.P. PHONE HOME, a reference to a movie about a young boy with that name. “I loved E.T. when I was a kid and always wanted to look like the boys in the movies, right?” he says. The other decision was to use different pronouns—for the record, both he/him and they/them are fine. (When I ask if he has a preference on pronouns for the purposes of this story, Page says, “He/him is great.”)

A day before we first speak, Page will talk to his mom about this interview and she will tell him, “I’m just so proud of my son.” He grows emotional relating this and tries to explain that his mom, the daughter of a minister, who was born in the 1950s, was always trying to do what she thought was best for her child, even if that meant encouraging young Page to act like a girl. “She wants me to be who I am and supports me fully,” Page says. “It is a testament to how people really change.”

Another decision was to get top surgery. Page volunteers this information early in our conversation; at the time he posted his disclosure on Instagram, he was recovering in Toronto. Like many trans people, Page emphasizes being trans isn’t all about surgery. For some people, it’s unnecessary. For others, it’s unaffordable. For the wider world, the media’s focus on it has sensationalized transgender bodies, inviting invasive and inappropriate questions. But Page describes surgery as something that, for him, has made it possible to finally recognize himself when he looks in the mirror, providing catharsis he’s been waiting for since the “total hell” of puberty. “It has completely transformed my life,” he says. So much of his energy was spent on being uncomfortable in his body, he says. Now he has that energy back.

For the transgender community at large, visibility does not automatically lead to acceptance. Around the globe, transgender people deal disproportionately with violence and discrimination. Anti-trans hate crimes are on the rise in the U.K. along with increasingly transphobic rhetoric in newspapers and tabloids. In the U.S., in addition to the perennial challenges trans people face with issues like poverty and homelessness, a flurry of bills in state legislatures would make it a crime to provide transition-related medical care to trans youth. And crass old jokes are still in circulation. When Biden lifted the ban on open service for transgender troops, Saturday Night Live’s Michael Che did a bit on Weekend Update about the policy being called “don’t ask, don’t tuck.”

Page says coming out as trans was “selfish” on one level: “It’s for me. I want to live and be who I am.” But he also felt a moral imperative to do so, given the times. Human identity is complicated and mysterious, but politics insists on fitting everything into boxes. In today’s culture wars, simplistic beliefs about gender—e.g., chromosomes = destiny—are so widespread and so deep-seated that many people who hold those beliefs don’t feel compelled to consider whether they might be incomplete or prejudiced. On Feb. 24, after a passionate debate on legislation that would ban discrimination against LGBTQ people, Representative Marie Newman, an Illinois Democrat, proudly displayed the pride flag in support of her daughter, who is trans. Representative Marjorie Taylor Greene, a Georgia Republican, responded by hanging a poster outside her office that read: There are TWO genders: MALE & FEMALE.

The next day Dr. Rachel Levine, who stands to become the first openly transgender federal official confirmed by the Senate, endured a tirade from Senator Rand Paul about “genital mutilation” during her confirmation hearing. My second conversation with Page happens shortly after this. He brings it up almost immediately, and seems both heartbroken and determined. He wants to emphasize that top surgery, for him, was “not only life-changing but lifesaving.” He implores people to educate themselves about trans lives, to learn how crucial medical care can be, to understand that lack of access to it is one of the many reasons that an estimated 41% of transgender people have attempted suicide, according to one survey.

Page has been in the political trenches for a while, having leaned into progressive activism after coming out as queer in 2014. For two seasons, he and best friend Ian Daniel filmed Gaycation, a Viceland series that explored LGBTQ culture around the world and, at one point, showed Page grilling Senator Ted Cruz at the Iowa State Fair about discrimination against queer people. In 2019, Page made a documentary called There’s Something in the Water, which explores environmental hardships experienced by communities of color in Nova Scotia, with $350,000 of his own money. That activism extends to his own industry: in 2017, he published a Facebook post that, among other things, accused director Brett Ratner of forcibly outing him as gay on the set of an X-Men movie. (A representative for Ratner did not respond to a request for comment.)

As a trans person who is white, wealthy and famous, Page has a unique kind of privilege, and with it an opportunity to advocate for those with less. According to the U.S. Trans Survey, a large-scale report from 2015, transgender people of color are more likely to experience unemployment, harassment by police and refusals of medical care. Nearly half of all Black respondents reported being denied equal treatment, verbally harassed and/or physically attacked in the past year. Trans people as a group fare much worse on such stats than the general population. “My privilege has allowed me to have resources to get through and to be where I am today,” Page says, “and of course I want to use that privilege and platform to help in the ways I can.”

Since his disclosure, Page has been mostly quiet on social media. One exception has been to tweet on behalf of the ACLU, which is in the midst of fighting anti-trans bills and laws around the country, including those that ban transgender girls and women from participating in sports. Mississippi Governor Tate Reeves says he will sign such a bill in the name of “protect[ing] young girls.” Page played competitive soccer and vividly recalls the agony of being told he would have to play on the girls’ team once he aged out of mixed-gender squads. After an appeal, Page was allowed to play with the boys for an additional year. Today, several bills list genitalia as a requirement for deciding who plays on which team. “I would have been in that position as a kid,” Page says. “It’s horrific.”

All this advocacy is unlikely to make life easier. “You can’t enter into certain spaces as a public trans person,” says the ACLU’s Strangio, “without being prepared to spend some percentage of your life being threatened and harassed.” Yet, while he seems overwhelmed at times, Page is also eager. Many of the political attacks on trans people—whether it is a mandate that bathroom use be determined by birth sex, a blanket ban on medical interventions for trans kids or the suggestion that trans men are simply wayward women beguiled by male privilege—carry the same subtext: that trans people are mistaken about who they are. “We know who we are,” Page says. “People cling to these firm ideas [about gender] because it makes people feel safe. But if we could just celebrate all the wonderful complexities of people, the world would be such a better place.”

Even if Page weren’t vocal, his public presence would communicate something powerful. That is in part because of what Paisley Currah, a professor of political science at Brooklyn College, calls “visibility gaps.” Historically, trans women have been more visible, in culture and in Hollywood, than trans men. There are many explanations: Our culture is obsessed with femininity. Men’s bodies are less policed and scrutinized. Patriarchal people tend to get more emotional about who is considered to be in the same category as their daughters. “And a lot of trans men don’t stand out as trans,” says Currah, who is a trans man himself. “I think we’ve taken up less of the public’s attention because masculinity is sort of the norm.”

During our interviews, Page will repeatedly refer to himself as a “transgender guy.” He also calls himself nonbinary and queer, but for him, transmasculinity is at the center of the conversation right now. “It’s a complicated journey,” he says, “and an ongoing process.”

While the visibility gap means that trans men have been spared some of the hate endured by trans women, it has also meant that people like Page have had fewer models. “There were no examples,” Page says of growing up in Halifax in the 1990s. There are many queer people who have felt “that how they feel deep inside isn’t a real thing because they never saw it reflected back to them,” says Tiq Milan, an activist, author and transgender man. Page offers a reflection: “They can see that and say, ‘You know what, that’s who I am too,’” Milan says. When there aren’t examples, he says, “people make monsters of us.”

For decades, that was something Hollywood did. As detailed in the 2020 Netflix documentary Disclosure, transgender people have been portrayed onscreen as villainous and deceitful, tragic subplots or the butt of jokes. In a sign of just how far the industry has come—spurred on by productions like Pose and trailblazers like Mock—Netflix offered to change the credits on The Umbrella Academy the same day that its star posted his statement on social media. Now when an episode ends, the first words viewers see are “Elliot Page.”

Today, there are many out trans and nonbinary actors, directors and producers. Storylines involving trans people are more common, more respectful. Sometimes that aspect of identity is even incidental, rather than the crux of a morality tale. And yet Hollywood can still seem a frightening place for LGBTQ people to come out. “It’s an industry that says, ‘Don’t do that,’” says director Silas Howard, who got his break on Amazon’s show Transparent, which made efforts to hire transgender crew members. “I wouldn’t have been hired if they didn’t have a trans initiative,” Howard says. “I’m always aware of that.”

So what will it mean for Page’s career? While Page has appeared in many projects, he also faced challenges landing female leads because he didn’t fit Hollywood’s narrow mold. Since Page’s Instagram post, his team is seeing more activity than they have in years. Many of the offers coming in—to direct, to produce, to act—are trans-related, but there are also some “dude roles.”

Downtime in quarantine helped Page accept his gender identity. “I was finally able to embrace being transgender,” he says.

Page was attracted to the role of Vanya in The Umbrella Academy because—in the first season, released in 2019—Vanya is crushed by self-loathing, believing herself to be the only ordinary sibling in an extraordinary family. The character can barely summon the courage to move through the world. “I related to how much Vanya was closed off,” Page says. Now on set filming the third season, co-workers have seen a change in the actor. “It seems like there’s a tremendous weight off his shoulders, a feeling of comfort,” says showrunner Steve Blackman. “There’s a lightness, a lot more smiling.” For Page, returning to set has been validating, if awkward at times. Yes, people accidentally use the wrong pronouns—“It’s going to be an adjustment,” Page says—but co-workers also see and acknowledge him.

The debate over whether cisgender people, who have repeatedly collected awards for playing trans characters, should continue to do so has largely been settled. However, trans actors have rarely been considered for cisgender parts. Whatever challenges might lie ahead, Page seems exuberant about playing a new spectrum of roles. “I’m really excited to act, now that I’m fully who I am, in this body,” Page says. “No matter the challenges and difficult moments of this, nothing amounts to getting to feel how I feel now.”

This includes having short hair again. During our interview, Page keeps rearranging strands on his forehead. It took a long time for him to return to the barber’s chair and ask to cut it short, but he got there. And how did that haircut feel?

Page tears up again, then smiles. “I just could not have enjoyed it more,” he says.”

#suicide m #transphobia m #Elliot Page #transgender #representation #celebrities #actors #tv #movies #rep #trans #transmasculine #nonbinary #queer #long post

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finelinevogue · 3 years

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Can you do something where Y/N is sick and Harry has to take care of her please?

i actually had written something similar to this before so i present you a lengthy blurb;

You were pretty sure if you got invited in to hell it would feel something like this.

Hot. Sticky. But chilled.

You had come down with a concerningly high temperature. Along with the added luxuries of a deafening headache, cold sweats and an upset tummy. Your body was burning all over, as if it had just been freshly cooked in the oven but you felt colder than ice. It was a confusing juxtaposition, but there it was.

You'd called Harry, since he was in the studio recording his new music and asked him to come home early. You didn't even get to the reasoning of why he should come home before he hung up, telling you he was already vacating the premises. You hated to be that needy girlfriend who had to call about nearly everything, but Harry loved it more than anything. He loved the fact that you needed him. It gave him purpose, apparently .

You couldn't work out whether you regretted asking him to come home, or whether it was a blessing. It was a very fine line.

It was a blessing because, he looked after you like a mother would her child and made sure he stood by your side any time you found yourself lurched over a toilet. He made you chicken soup from scratch and even tested it to make sure it wasn't too hot, or salty - despite being a vegetarian himself. He even made you honey and lemon tea, which he had to run to the store for the honey. When you say run, you mean run. He didn't want to leave you alone at all, so he put on his running shoes and sprinted to the shop and back. However, it was a slight regret because of how fussy he was over you. He loved it to bits - nursing to your every need.

You truly believed you didn't deserve Harry. He was just too kind and pure for his own good. You were unarguably lucky. Laying on what felt like your death bed, didn't feel so lucky though.

It was now 10 pm and you could hear Harry turning on the alarm for downstairs, the loud beeping noise preventing you from sleep. That's all you'd done all day. Sleep. You thought it'd be more magical than it was. It was just uncomfortable though, because of how cold and hot you were.

Your much better looking other half trudged through the bedroom door within a minute of the alarm going off. He was only wearing checkered pyjama bottoms and a white t-shirt and yet he made it look like Gucci Runway 2021.

The jingling of keys signalled Charlie was also present. Charlie was your 2 year old Golden Retriever. He was beautiful. When you and Harry has moved in together 2 years ago you'd managed to persuade him to get a dog. Within a few weeks of moving in you had a 5 month old puppy running around your house. He was your best friend, no doubt about it. He was also ridiculously photogenic.

"Hey Chaz!" You cooed as Charlie walked over to your side of the bed, where you were snuggling down under the sheets. You reached out your hand to give him some loving and attention. You could tell by the small smile and sparkling eyes that he was one happy boy.

"Alright, buddy. Let's leave mum alone." Harry came behind Charlie to manoeuvre him into his bed, which was in the corner of the room. It was more like a big cushion. He started to whine after being forced to leave you - having not seeing you all day. Harry was strict in keeping him downstairs so not to disturb you whilst you were sleeping.

"H it's alright, let him on the bed. He can curl up on my feet." You sympathised with Charlie, as you always did, hating to hear or see him upset. Harry was like the 'bad-cop' when it came to parenting Charlie, because you were too sweet to say no to him.

"You're one spoilt boy, aren’t you?" Harry messed around with Charlie, before telling him he could get up on the bed to see you. Charlie leapt on the bed and wandered over to give you all the kisses he could, before Harry came to calm him down - as you really didn't have the strength.

"I missed you too, Chaz." You quietly laughed, not wanting to set your headache off even more.

"You gonna let me kiss mum now?" Harry rhetorically asked, but as he came over to you Charlie laid down on you so your face was buried underneath his body. You could feel him panting with his adorable tongue out above you, as he hid you from Harry.

"Someone's jealous."

"Feeling like a bloody third wheel over here." Harry tutted and you laughed until you got hot with the movement.

"Harry? Can you move him please?" You whined as you tried to shuffle around.

"Okay Chaz. Let's let mum get some sleep, alright?" Charlie is slowly removed from you and ends up curled on top of your feet, keeping them warm for you.

Harry slipped into the covers and shuffled his way over to you, putting the back of his hand over your forehead and hissing quietly at the simple touch.

"Baby you're so hot." Harry complained.

"I know." You teased with a wink at him, taking his worry out of context and turning it into a flirting compliment.

"Oh piss off!" He chuckled and wrapped an arm around your waist to bring you closer. "What am I going to do with you, baby?" Harry then planted only a few delicate kisses to your lips - not wanting to overwork you and your tired body.

••••

You woke up with drowsy eyes to find you're in bed alone.

Your throat was incredibly dry and your whole body was sticky from sweat. Your pyjamas were damp and your face looked like it'd just been drowned in a rainstorm. It was disgusting. Still, you brought the duvet up to cover yourself more, as you let out a dramatic shiver. Why was it so cold?

Mixed into the background noise you could hear the cheering of crowds and it really confused you, until you looked at the wall and noticed the football was playing on re-run on the TV. Manchester United Vs Manchester City. You hated that you knew that just from their football uniforms, but that's what you get for living with a football-crazed boyfriend.

You noticed Harry emerge from the bathroom, a washing up bowl in his arms. He came and sat down in bed, the bucket of water to his side. "What are you doing?" You quietly asked, peering up at him through tired eyes.

"Oi, you're meant to be sleep y’minx." Harry told you off.

"I can't. I'm too uncomfortable. I'm hot, but i'm cold. I also find it hard to sleep without you next to me." You huffed out in annoyance.

"My poorly baby." He leant down to kiss your forehead, "c’mere, baby." He urged.

He helped you move, seeing as your body was really weak, so you could lay down against Harry’s body. He was sat up against the headboard as you nestled down between his legs, your back to his front. It was a lot more comfortable than before - probably because Harry was closer to you. Charlie noticed the disturbance and waited for you to stop moving around, before maintaining the job of guarding your feet.

Once he was happy in his position he fell asleep again, making you jealous of his ability to do that. Especially now.

"Why's the football on?" You asked, motioning towards the TV.

"Had to keep myself awake somehow." He explained, but it only made you more confused.

"Why?"

"So I can take care of you, y’muppet." His words actually melted your heart - more than chocolate could melt on your forehead right now.

After you'd settled, Harry reached into the bucket and drained out a cloth. He made sure all the excess water was cleared before moving it away from the bucket. You hummed in appreciation when he placed it against your forehead, rotating it to the back of your neck also in order to relax and cool you. It made you realise just how hot you were.

"I think i'm dying, Harry." You groaned as the nausea came over you again. Harry kept a firm hold of the cloth on your forehead, dabbing gently and careful to not let any water drip down into your eyes.

"No you're not, baby." Harry gave you a light-hearted laugh.

"Well, living shouldn't feel as shitty as this H." You grumbled, not appreciating his lack of understanding.

“Then just let me take you to the chuffing hospital!" He exclaimed, making Charlie stir slightly.

Harry had been demanding you go to the hospital all day and all evening, but you were too stubborn to go. That, and you were terrified of hospitals - more terrified of needles and blood than anything else. However, you were starting to reach the point where you were giving in to his request, though. It was becoming unbearable to sleep and harder to breathe. You were worried for yourself.

"I don't like it." You pouted like a child, as Harry wrung the cloth through the fresh water again.

"I don't care whether you like it or not, Y/N, I really think we should go. More like need." Harry insisted and you could tell he wasn’t giving up without a fight. You didn’t want that either.

You hated how he was right.

It was only going to get worse from here, and you didn't really want to be alive when that was going you happen, so going to the hospital to get checked over and drugged up seemed like the best option to go for. The more sensible option.

"Fine." You finally accepted, Harry slinking his arms tight around your waist after discarding the cloth in to the bucket. He nuzzled his head into the crook of your neck and planted an abundance of kisses there, your skin burning just to the touch.

"Thank you. Thank you. Thank you." He repeated in-between kisses.

•••••

It took 20 minutes to get in to the car. 20 minutes.

All because Charlie was reluctant to letting you get up and go. So Harry had to dress you into a more appropriate attire, with a dog sat on your lower body. It was then half an hour later that you were in the hospital.

The hospital was quiet at this time of night and for that you were grateful. It was obviously a night where little numbers of people were doing silly things to get themselves hurt. There was the odd patient for a minor cut injury and there were a couple of people in for burns. There was even a woman in because she accidentally superglued her hand to a bottle of superglue - ironic, but painful.

You sat patiently on Harrys lap, waiting for someone to escort you to a cubicle. You were freezing cold, to the point where your teeth were chattering - your outside body was giving off the opposite temperature. You tried to get as close to Harry's warmth as possible, pushing your body against his.

"You're alright baby." Harry shushed you, as you let out a small tremble.

"If I do die—"

"Which you won't." Harry chuckled.

"I know, but if I did I want you to know that I love you." You told him. Even though he's heard you say it a million times before, it still made his heart flutter as you spoke each word.

"I love you, baby." He kissed the side of your head. "But you're going to be just fine, so no more talking about you dying okay?"

"Why? It's only a natural thing." You pointed out.

"Sure, but I don't want to think of a world without my girl living in it. So zip it before I make you."

You never thought of dying as a world without Harry before now and it wasn't the time to start thinking about it either. It was a horrible thought and you understood why Harry didn't want you speak about it. That world would be so dark and empty and you hated thinking about it.

Harry was called to the front desk to fill in some forms for you, since your hands were too cold and shaky to do it for yourself. He accidentally wrote 'Styles' as your second name, before realising his mistake and scribbling it out.

“Shit.” Harry went red in the face and chuckled over his silly mistake. His hand was shaky and you smiled at how he got so flustered over something so simple. You rested your hand on top of his, bringing his attention to you.

“One day.” You told him and he leaned to give you a kiss on the lips. You couldn’t help but feel like his lips were a future promise to make sure he wouldn’t have to scribble out his second name the next time it was written next to yours.

The doctor saw you shortly afterwards and you thanked your lucky stars that there was no injections or removal of any blood involved, Harry sticking with you the whole time. Turns out you were suffering from a moderate fever, but the doctor said with good rest it should pass. The doctor had given Harry permission to make a big fuss over you - explaining how he was going to love it and you were going to hate it - and to make sure to come back with even the slightest worsen of the fever. You got given a prescription list of various medications that you'd need to take over the next week or so. After collecting the drugs, you were back in the car on the way home.

"Told you you weren't going to die." Harry smiled, happy to have you still by his side, whilst holding your hand over the gear console.

"Unfortunate for you, I guess."

"Will you shut you, y’bloody nuisance. You know I can't do life without you, Y/N." He spoke softly, squeezing your hand tighter to assure you that he's going nowhere.

"Same here." You smile at him and he smirks back at you with his dimple-loving smile.

"You’ll always be it for me, baby." Harry speaks, before you drift back off to sleep.

Happily.

#harry styles #harry styles x reader #harry styles fanfic #harry styles x y/n #harry styles fanfiction #finelinevogue #finelinevogue harry styles #harry blurb #harry oneshot #harry styles concept #ask finelinevogue #ask harry styles #finelinevogue blurbs #finelinevogue masterlist #harry styles fluff #harry styles end of the day #harry styles x ill reader #harry styles x sick reader #harry styles x you

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omegaplus · 3 years

Text

# 3,848

Uniform / Portayal Of Guilt / Body Void @ Saint Vitus; October 20, 2021.

In my first month in Ronkonkoma I went to my very first noise show. Seeing Merzbow, Genesis P. Orridge, Pharmakon, Prurient, and Aaron Dilloway on the same bill meant that tickets were ordered instantly. I took the Long Island Railroad west to the Woodside stop, then the 7 and G lines and ran it to Wythe Av. in Greenpoint where I arrived at a long line at Output. The show started at 10PM and I knew I missed the mark by a little. 45 minutes later I was finally in, weaseled my way up front and saw two guys I wasn’t familiar with. The lead singer was surging back and forth, screaming on the mic- and inciting the crowd. His guitar player stood further back firing off these hazardous riffs as their drum machine rattled itself repeatedly. Three songs later and that’s all they wrote. Next up: Pharmakon. I stayed at Output for most of that bill and it was an eye-opener for me, once which made me realize that Greenpoint was always there for me when I needed it.

I don’t remember much of that opening set being I was late for it. (Output’s policy forbid anyone filming their shows.) Days later I looked them up and it was Uniform (Michael Berdan and Ben Greenberg). I found their debut Perfect World and recognized “Footnote” as one of their songs performed that night. That’s when I started getting into them. Wake In Fright came and it was a desperately needed dose of industrial-metal I haven’t had in forever thanks in part to tracks like “The Long Walk”. Then comes Ben Greenberg’s production work and his involvement in The Men, Coca Leaf, and the Sacred Bones label. And Michael Berdan had plenty of key moments in Drunkdriver, Believer/Law, Canal Street Electronics, and (holy shit) his role as a screaming psychotic in York Factory Complaint. With other cuts such as “The Walk” from The Long Walk and Shame, plus the fact that they’re from New York City, they became one of my all-time top ten artists. They announced a U.S. tour and this was my chance to finally see them in full from start to finish.

Hello again, Saint Vitus! The last time I was here was when Hospital Productions’ Alberich and headliners Consumer Electronics performed. That’s a night still fresh in my head and a memorable show that was. Driver’s license, ticket app-, and vaccine card all good to go. As it was Saint Vitus, I also had an eye out for venue owner Christopher Enriquez who is also known for his Age Of Quarantine video podcasts. Hands-down the best there ever was because he interviewed Azar Swan, Boy Harsher, Kris Esfandiari, Kanga, White Ring, Unsane’s Chris Spencer and others, but alas, he was nowhere to be found. The doors opened at 7PM and either people waited behind the bar, observed the merch-tables where the young metal girl with an Angel Olsen cut was selling Portrayal Of Guilt shirts, or slowly progressed to general admission where Body Void were slowly building their soundchecks. I come on in and, wow, I don’t remember the venue being this small? It had to be no more than 25-by-25 feet standing space. But it’s New York City. Smaller spaces is what tenants excel at for better or wor$e.

I see show-goers and their denim vest / t-shirt allegiances of Bathory, Skinny Puppy, Self Defense Family, Today Is The Day, Impalers, Failure and more slowly pouring in. One guy wore a Steely Dan Aja shirt and that shit was revolutionary given the setting. All this while Godflesh’s “Suction” was playing in the background. Not many of them were wearing masks so I assumed we’re going in with good faith. After about a half-an-hour of approvals and another ten-minute wait, Body Void finally took the stage to get things going. Formerly from San Francisco and now Vermont, Body Void delivered their brand of hard-stomping, trudging, slow-pull teardown of sludge, doom, and black metal. Willow Ryan (in transition) sported a rainbow / LGBTA guitar strap as she screamed ear-rattling blood-curdling delicious gore that would cast your withering long-haired mother and all her daughters into a inescapable confusing void for all eternity. Drummer Edward Holgerson’s ever-changing facial expressions told of unease, fright, and disgust as he blasted on through his kit. (Another member of theirs was also present on-stage but he was additional touring personnel. Forgive us if I can’t pony up their names.) The audience was at a standstill and entranced for most of Body Void’s set as some of their songs went more than 10 minutes; save for a few moments where Holgerson sped it up and and had heads going. Overall, Body Void got the win.

Portrayal Of Guilt sounded familiar to me, though I realized that I might have chanced them but didn’t air them on Omega WUSB. After their set, I fucking will now. The Austin trio of James Beveridge (bass), vocalist / guitarist Matt King, and a shirtless Alex Stanfield (drums) threw their amalgam of hardcore, screamo, and black metal to the mix. They tore it up and killed it to shreds. All seemed still and in stasis in the crowd until we loosened up and banged our heads a little harder. It wasn’t until halfway in the set when the pit opened up and broke out into our first of many shoving matches and human pinball games. On video it doesn’t look like much but see it up front and personal to experience the real grit of it. Or am I undershooting? Shockingly, no teeth were dislodged, piercings ripped out, or expensive cameras were knocked out in the process. What a miracle. Portrayal Of Guilt had us focused, and with their tempo changes and even some vaporwave interstitials kept their otherwise flesh-tearing doom-and-gloom interesting all throughout.

As Portrayal Of Guilt tore their gear down for Uniform, someone noticed my Whitehouse Psychopathia Sexualis shirt. He introduced himself to me and commended me on representing true-blue first-generation industrial-noise. OK, I’ll take that. I’m one of the very few on Long Island who walks around wearing them. His slurred speech and a tall can of Pabst Blue Ribbon in hand assured me that it’ll take him 30 seconds to complete a sentence. A mention of how it was Nine Inch Nails’ 30th anniversary of Pretty Hate Machine and questions of “how are Uniform and are they good?” and “you think I should get earplugs?” meant this was now an unnecessary conversation. Some things are best left forgotten about. But Revolting Cocks’ “Do Ya’ Think I’m Sexy?” was playing on the p.a. so that made the moment much more bearable.

Uniform finally arrived to cap off the night and started to go. After 6 1/2 years of waiting to see them in their entirety, I finally got it. Under normal circumstances, they’d already play material from their latest album Shame. The pandemic has subsided and venues have opened up once again. Now’s their time. Uniform brought new touring reinforcements with them. Impalers’ Mike Sharp wasn’t there and Zombi’s Steve Moore at one point was enlisted as bassist but there was a change-up, so there’s two hired guns on bass and drums making the outfit a four-piece for the very first time. (Again, no names listed or found anywhere so forgive us again.)

First off: “Life In Remission”. They just let it fly right out of the gate. If you heard it on record, you know it’s industrial metal’s most devastating moment of this decade so far. In person, you see Michael Berdan go wild in all of his physical and mental madness. It’s too bad the opener didn’t end in those explosive drum blasts and that’s way too much for me to ask. They played more from Shame such as the title track and its opener “Delco”. They parsed through The Long Walk and Wake In Fright with “The Walk” and other out-of-control salvos of chaotic energy and walls of sound. Ben Greenberg’s fired nothing but riffs of thick toxic black smoke because they were that heavy. Their remaining live personnel held their own.

For a good 50 minutes, Uniform showed everyone at Saint Vitus how fucked up and tilted today’s political, social, and mental climate is. Their hard-as-nails display of industrial, metal, drum machines, and even walls of noise showed that underneath the spectacle, there’s nothing nice or forgiving about the all-or-nothing winner-take-all behavior of greed, consumerism, and dependency. With their first stop in their home court of Brooklyn, Uniform is carrying the flag throughout their tour and come back in Berdan’s former home town of Philadelphia. What a proper send-off and thanks we gave them.

Usually at show’s end, I’d leave the venue immediately and high-tail it to whatever alphabetical or numerical line back to Penn Station. Not this time. Merch- was on my mind. I knew a band tee and Wake In Fright was on the market; two things I’ve been meaning to buy for a while. So I ruffle my way from the back, through the bar, and to the merch- table where Mike Berdan was. Only five minutes of waiting and now it’s my turn. Read closely and learn how it’s really done.

We greeted each other hello. I asked Mike if he had any copies of York Factory Complaint’s Lost In The Spectacle. That was his previous (noise) project before Uniform. Sadly, he didn’t have any and said I’d have to go to Dais Records for that. (Former member of York Factory Complaint Ryan Martin owns the label.) Shucks. In that case, I went for a small shirt and Wake In Fright on vinyl. “Thirty dollars!” he says. Sold. I handed him my money and genuinely thanked him for all the projects he and Ben have ever done (Believer/Law, Drunkdriver, Coca Leaf, and The Men to name a few). I also told him that I supported everything they did on my radio show and he super-thanked me. I have never come across such a nicer guy than the energetic Mike. Here’s an outfit who gets it and communicates with their fans in a non-generic way; and someone who’s totally appreciative, grateful, and thankful for their fans and the support they give them / him…unlike some other industrial acts we know (Hi, Ministry! It’s us! Pick up your phone!) We bumped fists and I left Saint Vitus feeling like the happiest man on the fucking planet.

That, my friends, is how you support the artists directly. It’s the only way that’s better than Bandcamp: giving your money hand-to-hand to the very musicians you came to see.

I needed it. I really fucking needed it. I needed to come visit Greenpoint to tell myself once again where I should be and who I want to be associated with. It’s not everyday I do this for a day and leave behind depression’s repetitive toxic thoughts behind. It’s up there in the top three nights in New York City ever spent. The alphabet lines, the quiet nighttime walks down the city streets, the camaraderie. It’s back. A disastrous last year might have ruined our souls and forced most of us in solitude but, damn, it feels fucking great to do it again. With the rate of things such as my health, due diligence, and staying in touch with yourself only going up, that trophy is in my sights once more.

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blazedgraysons · 3 years

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babe can u bless us w some new years smut w papi gray ?

oml i’m sorry it took me so long to finish this but of course, angel!! lmaoo let’s start the new year out with some hate sex with gray.

warnings: so i guess the words papi gray triggered something in me because i don’t really know what this is anymore. anyways hatefucking, a smidge of choking, some dirty talk and the return of my fave: cocky fuckboy grayson. anyways hope you like it bby <333

New Year’s had never been your favorite holiday. Too many blacked-out people in a bar, all with high hopes for the year that come quickly crashing down the next day along with their hangovers. Plus, it doesn’t help that you’ve been puked on two NYEs in a row.

It wasn’t like you had a personal vendetta against the holiday, just the older you got, the more you wanted to spend New Years' at home. So you ended up creating your own traditions: Indian food, shitty beer, and rewatching your favorite chick flicks.

This is why you were so surprised to find yourself outside of a huge party this year. Your two best friends had dragged you with them, explaining how they didn’t want to ring in New Year’s without you.

“I look like a disco ball.” You groan as the three of you walk in, Ali and Stella confidently leading the way.

“You look hot.” Ali assures, smiling in what you figure is supposed to be a comforting way. She had been the one to invite the two of you tonight, and a part of you feels bad for your miserable attitude, knowing that she just wanted to spend time with you.

“Warning: Dolan at 3 O’Clock.” Your other friend, Stella, whispers into her red solo cup, and you can feel your bad mood return. Turning your head slightly, you can see Grayson Dolan walking in with his entourage, already acting as if he owns the room.

You can hear Ali snapping at Stella, reminding her how they agreed not to point him out tonight, but all you can focus on is how arrogant Grayson looked.

The two of you had never gotten along, a wrong first date leaving each other permanently on the other’s shit list. Despite your disdain for another, the two of you ran in the same friend group, so you saw each other more often than you like. At this point, everyone knew to keep you two far away from each other unless they wanted a whole night of insults, fighting, and yelling.

“Remind me why you two hate each other again? It’s been like two years.” Stella asks nonchalantly, tilting her head as she holds up her drink.

“We just do. He was a dick on our date. Some people aren’t meant to get along.”

“Aw, you two just need to kiss and makeup.” Ali coos, fixing your hair.

“More like fuck and makeup. So what if you had a bad date. The two of you still have this weird sex thing that needs to be figured out.” Stella interjects.

“I do not-“ Your friends start laughing at your loud objection, watching as your face grows hot in embarrassment.

“I do not want to fuck him!” You hiss, hiding your face from nosy onlookers.

“Why not? I would; he’s fucking hot.” Stella whispers, gesturing over to him. All three of you look over at where he’s standing against the kitchen counter, laughing loudly with his group of friends.

You hated to admit it, but she was right: he really was super attractive. He’s simply dressed in jeans and a black t-shirt, denim jacket finishing everything off. It’s nothing special, but you hate the fact that he still somehow managed to look better than everyone else here.

He looks over, smirking when he sees your little group staring at him. All three of you turn away, doing a horrible job at trying to look inconspicuous. Your back is turned towards him as you fix your hair and smoothing out your dress. Ali’s eyes light up suddenly, and she’s whispering to Stella before turning back to you.

“Stella has to pee; we’ll be right back.” She rushes out while dragging Stella to the nearest bathroom. Before you can protest, Grayson’s taking their spot.

He’s chewing his gum obnoxiously, and you can’t help the way your eyes focus on how his jaw moves with every bite.

“Didn’t think I’d see you here tonight, Y/N.”

“Yeah, I was just leaving. Decided it’s not really for me anymore.” You get out, moving past him to walk to the door. You figured you can just call an Uber and text your two friends you were feeling sick. Before you can make it past, he grabs your arm to stop you.

“C’mon, it’s the last day of the year. Can’t you be nice to me just for tonight?” He asks, eyes shining with mischief.

“ Don’t you have some other girl to mess with?” You yank your wrist back, walking off as he follows you.

“Why? You jealous.” He asks, and you know that arrogant smirk is painted on his face.

“Over you? Hardly.” You keep moving until he says something that has you stopping in your tracks.

“Did you wear that dress for me tonight?” Your jaw clenches, annoyance washing over your body. However, you figure two can play this game, so you turn around, walking towards him with a flirtatious expression on your face. He’s looking down at you, appreciating the way your attitude has done a complete 180. You wrap your arms around his neck and bring his face towards yours, leaning in as if you’re going to kiss him.

“Fuck you.” You whisper, mouth millimeters away from his. You turn away, turning to look at him over your shoulder one last time. The irritated expression on his face and his clenched jaw should’ve warned you that you were playing with fire. Still, you simply keep walking forward, choosing to look for Ali and Stella.

Maybe you could stay a little longer to see how this plays out.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Fuck Grayson Dolan.

At this point, you weren’t sure if you were angrier at him or if you actually wanted to fuck him.

All you know is he was pushing every last button.

It started with constant flirting - just with everyone else besides you. You knew Grayson was a tease, but you swore he had given every girl at this party his signature charming smile. The one that screamed, 'I'm Grayson Dolan, and you're the only one here for me.' You had pretended like you hadn’t seen red when he leaned down to whisper a joke in some girl's ear, winking at you when he notices the way your eyes had narrowed and your lips were puckered.

It only got worse when he decided he needed a refill on his drink, coming up to where you were standing in the hallway. He slyly placed his hands low on your waist, pressing up against you to squeeze by even though you both knew that there was more than enough space.

You were in the middle of debating on whether or not you should finally leave for good this time, figuring you shouldn’t have to subject yourself to this torture when you still have leftover takeout in your fridge.

“Hey, we need to talk to you. Can you meet us in the upstairs bedroom in like 5 minutes?” Ali appears out of nowhere, blonde curls messed up as if she’s been running her hands nervously through her hair. Stella just nods casually, and you look at the two of them suspiciously.

“What are you two planning?” You ask.

“Nothing! Upstairs. Five minutes!” Ali assures, kissing you on the cheek before walking off again. You can tell she’s drunk, smelling the lingering vodka shots on her breath. However, curiosity gets the better of you, and after five minutes, you’re slowly walking up the stairs.

“Ali? Stel?” You call out, getting nothing in response. You keep walking until you reach the end of the hallway, closed door in front of you. You open it, greeted with the sight of Grayson in front of you.

“What the fuck?” You both exclaim, the door closing behind you. You jangle the door handle, cursing under your breath when you realize it’s locked.

“We’re not letting you out until you guys kiss!” Ali calls out.

“You guys got 20 minutes until midnight.” Stella laughs, both still holding the door tightly to keep you from breaking through.

“Oh my God, we’re not fucking 12. This isn’t 7 minutes in heaven.”

“Less talking, more frenching!” Ali yells, giggling loudly as her heels slowly click away.

You roll your eyes, “You two are the fucking worst.” You kick the door before sliding down against it, tilting your head against the door.

“Your friends are weird.” are the first words out of Grayson’s mouth, and you roll your eyes.

“They mean well, they’re just really … stupid sometimes.”You get back up to your feet and start knocking on the door, hitting it with your palms, anything that could hopefully get a passerby’s attention.

“Can you stop banging on the door? It’s annoying.” Grayson mumbles out from where he’s sitting up on the bed after five minutes of your obnoxious knocking.

“I’m sorry, did you want to spend New Year’s locked in here with one another. I’m trying to get out.”

He leans back down on the bed, covering his eyes with his arms. “You realize it’s locked; we’re stuck in here. No one’s coming up here for a while.”

You hate to admit it, but you know he’s right. With only 20 minutes until midnight, everyone’s going to be downstairs, not wanting to miss the main event. You walk over to the dresser, sitting on top of it as you pull out your phone to find someone to text for an emergency rescue.

“We really should just sleep with one another.”

You nearly drop your phone in your lap from his sudden outburst. “I think that’s the dumbest shit I’ve ever heard.”

“Why not? I think you’re hot; I know you think I’m hot. Stop- don’t try to argue with me; I’ve seen the way you look at me when you think I’m not paying attention. Let’s just get this over with; clear start to 2021.” He looks over at you, raising an eyebrow.

You roll your eyes, “I’m not sleeping with you Grayson.”

“What, scared you might actually like it?” He pushes himself up off the mattress and stalks over to where you’re seated on top of the dresser. You start to feel uncharacteristically timid, not knowing how to react under his dark gaze. You don’t say anything, just watching the way his eyes rake over your entire body slowly.

He takes a deep breath, “If I kiss you right now, will you let me?” You wait a second before throwing on caution to the wind, and nodding, deciding to give in to whatever tension is growing between you.

He leans down, softly kissing you before coming back to gauge your reaction.

“If you kiss anything like the way you fuck, this is gonna fucking suck.” You whisper, smiling at the way his face drops. He pulls you into him, forcing his lips onto yours roughly. It’s messy, teeth clashing into one another, noses bumping, and you love it. You didn’t want softness, you didn’t want intimacy, you wanted Grayson to let out everything he felt towards you.

He starts to roughly mark down your neck, leaving dark marks, and you whimper, desperately pulling his jacket off his shoulders. He leans back slightly, pulling his shirt over his head and your mouth falls slightly. You take in all the deep contours and ridges, not even missing the way he flexes briefly.

“Like what you see?” He rasps out, pants growing tighter at your open arousal.

“Just because we’re fucking doesn’t mean I’m another one of your fans. I still fucking hate you.” You pull your dress off and spread your legs slightly on the dresser. You mentally thank Ali for forcing you to skip wearing a bra because the way Grayson’s face zeros in on your bare tits has you whimpering softly. He moves even closer to you.

“Doesn’t seem like you hate me right now.” He whispers, eyes darkening at the dark spot growing on your underwear. His arms are on either side of your thighs as he’s standing in between your legs. You can feel the heat coming off from his body, close enough that you can pick up the subtle nerves in his energy under waves of excitement.

“Whatever.” You’re trying your hardest to remain unaffected, calm under his intense gaze. Still, between the lack of touch and the way he’s looking like he can’t figure out how he wants to ruin you first, you start to squirm.

He pulls roughly at your underwear; you watch as his biceps bulge until the fabric falls apart in his hands. Whatever facade of calmness you were trying to maintain flies out the window. You swallow deeply, eyes wide as he tosses the ruined underwear over his shoulder with a cocky smirk. The smug look on his face is enough for you to snap back to normal and return to your usual backtalk.

“Watch it, asshole. Those aren’t cheap.”

“Trust me, I’ll buy you two more to make up for it. Now shut up; you talk too much.” With that, he’s leaning down and sucking your clit hard.

You’re not quick to compliment Grayson, but you can admit he’s incredible at eating pussy. He genuinely sounds like he’s ready to die in between your legs, quietly groaning to himself with every suck and lick. Your breath hitches at the imagery, and he’s slowly licking up your slit, savoring the way you taste for him. He gives you a few more licks before he starts sucking at your clit again, and you can feel yourself growing closer.

“Fuck, Gray- I’m about to cu-“ Before you can finish, he’s pulling away and smiling up at you with shiny lips.

“Fuck you.” You practically spit out, and he just laughs shortly, amusement barely hidden in his face.

“Before I make you cum, I wanna hear you ask nicely.” He’s leaning into you again, lips hovering yours, mirroring the same position you had him in earlier. You push his shoulder, hoping to give you some distance, but he stays firmly planted in place.

“If you think I’m gonna beg for your sorry excuse of a dick -“

He cuts you off, fingers slipping inside you, and he starts curling his fingers, your back arching into his touch. With how close you were to your orgasm, you’re falling apart in a matter of seconds. You start whimpering out his name, and he stills all his movements, thumb hovering over your clit.

“Beg.” He demands, and neither of you misses the way you tightly clench around him from the change of tone in his voice.

You stare at him long until he lightly brushes your clit, reminding you of what you’re missing in your stubbornness. You sigh dramatically before swallowing your pride and saying:

“Grayson, fuck me.” He stares at you pointedly, and you sigh again.

“Please, Gray. Want you to fuck me, please.” You whisper. It’s not a lot, but he knows that’s probably the most he’s going to get out of you at this moment, so he just smiles proudly and starts moving his fingers again. The coil in your stomach starts to grow tighter, and your toes curl when you start cumming all of your fingers. You cry out, nails scratching down his stomach as he continues to move his hand to work you through your orgasm.

He leans back, sucking up everything on his fingers before unbuckling and taking his pants and underwear off. You were glad he had made you cum before because he was big, bigger than anyone you’ve ever been with before. He brushes his dick over your entrances a few times, tapping his dick lightly on your clit. You whimper slightly, and he winks, arrogant persona back in full force.

“You’re still a dick.” You whisper, no real sting to your words.

“Yeah, I know.” He strokes his dick lightly before sinking in, and both of you moan out from the initial feeling.

He starts snapping his hips relentlessly, not giving you time to adjust to his pace. Your eyes begin to roll back, only able to focus on the wood digging into your back, arm wrapped around your waist, and dick ramming roughly into you. You’re moaning out constantly, nothing able to come to mind to express how good he’s making you feel.

However, Grayson is starting to get frustrated, not satisfied with the way you’ve laid out in front of him. He picks you up, holding you close to him before dropping you carelessly on the bed. Before you can say anything, he’s twisting your body around, so you’re on all fours in front of him and is sliding back into you, taking you from behind. You’re arching underneath him, allowing him to reach you even deeper as you moan out. He’s practically fucking you into the mattress, and from your constant sounds and ass jiggling in front of him, he’s releasing a guttural groan.

He places an arm next to your head while wrapping a large hand around your throat, lightly cutting off your air. His body is entirely over yours, encasing your entire body in his large frame. It all starts to get to be too overwhelming, and your mind starts to go blank from the pleasure, pulling at the railings to get away from how hard he’s fucking into you while also leaning back into him to get more.

“Stop running; thought you wanted to see how good I can fuck you.” He moves his hand to slap your ass, and his dick jumps from the way you start squeezing around him. He rubbing your ass, ready to spank you again, when the both of you stop from loud screams coming below you. You both hear yells about countdowns and New Year’s and Grayson’s leaning down, rutting himself into you before whispering in your ear -

“How much you wanna bet I can get you to cum before midnight?”

10!

You didn’t think he could go any faster, but his movements pick up, hitting your g-spot with every movement of his hips.

He brushes his fingers against your lip, watching as you slowly take them into your mouth and start sucking. You don’t miss the way he lightly swears when you lightly nip at the pads of his fingers. “Fucking brat.” He mutters before he’s wrapping his hand around your throat again.

He moves his hand, going back up on his knees so he can hold you still as he keeps thrusting into you.

With the way he’s gripping your hips and pulling you back into him, you already know you’re gonna be bruised with his fingerprints on your hip tomorrow.

You start to fall forward, and all you can think about is how badly you want to cum.

He starts rubbing at your clit, and you swear you can feel him deep in your stomach, knowing that he’s going to be responsible for your limp tomorrow.

“If only I knew earlier that all I needed to do to get you to shut up was to fuck you properly” were the words coming out, and you hate yourself for moaning out louder at the way he says it.

You can tell he’s starting to get close by the way he starts slowing down, choosing to grind his hips slowly into you.

You haven’t stopped moaning, volume picking up until you’re practically sobbing into the pillow. You briefly think how grateful you are for the screaming in the living room when Grayson smacks your ass hard before groaning in your ear, “Fucking cum, Y/N.”

The tight feeling in your stomach snaps, and a small spurt of wetness releases, you squirting into his dick and thighs. You practically collapse forward, suddenly exhausted, and it only takes a few more thrusts before Grayson’s pulling out to cum on your lower back.

Happy New Year’s, Y/N.” He whispers in a cocky tone, pride in how he practically has you reduced to nothing underneath him.

He covers you in a blanket before getting dressed and walking back out to the party, not even bothering to hide his self-satisfied smirk when his friends ask him why he missed the ball drop.

#cole write something under 1k challenge #sorry this took forever #grayson dolan #grayson dolan smut #grayson dolan drabble #grayson dolan blurb #grayson dolan x reader #grayson dolan x reader smut #dolan twins #dolan twins smut #dolan twins drabble #dolan twins blurb #dolan twins x reader #dolan twins x reader smut #blazedwritings

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