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vivwritesfics · 4 months

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Soo, I have an idea, bear with me, it‘s pretty specific (and slightly self-indulgent) but I think it could be nice

Basically, reader has been with Lando for a while already. She played piano as a child but for whatever reason stopped but when Charles releases his piano songs it inspires her to get back to it and Charles ends up helping her practise and they become really good friends (but honestly purely platonic, maybe even siblings vibes) over it. Cue a little bit of angst when Lando gets worried about his girl spending so much time with another guy. But ta-dah, happy end, it turns out that Charles helped her write a song for Lando as a birthday or anniversary present

I absolutely understand if you don‘t want to write this, I just had a little daydream about it and thought you‘d be the perfect person to write it!

Lots of love for you and your works <3

I made the reader Jules Bianchi's little sister

F1 Masterlist

Ever since Jules' tragic passing, Charles had felt a certain sense of protectiveness over his little sister. Everybody thought they were going to start dating, that Y/N Bianchi and Charles Leclerc were destined to be together.

Just like her brother, her life was motorsport. She wasn't a driver, that had never been her desire, but she knew everything there was to know about Formula One. She followed Charles around the world like she wanted to with her brother, supporting him like she would have Jules.

She found love at the race track, but not with Charles.

It was 2019, his rookie season when they met. She had been walking through the paddock, making her way to the Ferrari garage, when she bumped into him. In his McLaren shirt and orange hat, nineteen year old Lando Norris was adorable. It took maybe two years before he finally asked her out. They had been happy together ever since.

Something that most people forget when talking about Y/N Bianchi was her love for music. She had been playing since she was a child and it was something she had used to get through her brothers passing.

She could play several different instruments. While Jules was karting, she was practicing violin, piano, and more. But piano was her favourite of them all.

She still practiced regularly, but it was at the back of her mind as life went on.

But then lockdown happened. She and Lando had just started dating, so she was stuck at home in France, left to call him regularly. She called Charles, too, since he was like an older brother to her. As they talked he walked her around his apartment, setting her up against different surfaces as he did something.

"Charles, is that a piano?" She asked as she looked past him.

He took her closer to it, showing her the new piano he had bought over lockdown.

That was what sparked her playing again.

They didn't have much of a chance to practice together after the season started up again. They still showed each other videos they had taken of themselves playing, but they never played together.

Not until just before Lando's 24th birthday.

Actually, it was the summer break, several months before. But she liked being prepared. Lando had been so fucking excited to spend summer break with her, but she had to blow him off, told him to have fun without her.

Instead she was in Monaco with Charles. They were spending a few weeks in his apartment, writing together until they had a song. Charles had booked a studio, where they recorded together.

***

On the day of Lando's birthday he was woken up with a kiss, breakfast, and a good ol' shag.

"I got you something really special this year," she said as she walked in from the bathroom, using a towel to dry her hair. "Do you remember over summer break, when I stayed in Monaco with Charles?"

Lando's expression darkened. "Yeah, I remember," he grumbled. He knew the nature of her relationship with Charles, but he'd also seen what had been said about the two of them.

Sitting beside him, Y/N ran her hands through his hair. "C'mon, Lan, what's up?" She asked, pouting at him.

Lando threw his head back, exposing his throat as he groaned. "I get sent the articles of you and Charles back from before we started dating at least three times a week. And then you spent summer with him in Monaco and-"

Suddenly she put her hand over his mouth, and Lando softly bit her palm. "I was putting together your birthday present in Monaco. That's why I spent the entire summer with him," she said and pulled up her phone.

Lando sat patiently as she pulled out the song she had written for him. He listened to the piano notes she had put together, to the lyrics she had written. It was, to put it simply, beautiful. He could listen to it on repeat for the rest of his life.

"I... holy shit," he said when the song finished. "I fucking love you," He said. "That was incredible."

#lando norris #lando norris imagine #lando norris x reader #lando norris fluff #lando norris smut #lando norris x you #f1 #f1 imagine #f1 x reader #formula one #formula one imagine #formula one x reader #formula 1 #formula 1 imagine #formula 1 x reader #ln4 #ln4 imagine #ln4 x reader

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fionarara · 1 year

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+ hipster ! kenma .

+ tw : one mention of a drug, cigarettes, slight cat slander, please this is a joke

+ hipster ! kenma . owns a hairless sphynx cat, because cutesy cats with fluffy fur are for plebs + hipster ! kenma . who shows up to a kickback party at kuroo’s place and upon discovering that the fridge is only stocked full of ultra-generic basic beer brands, decides he would rather drink the warm belgium-imported craft beer which has not yet been cooled, because dude would never be caught holding a shitty bud light in hand or drinking a white claw + hipster ! kenma . “knows the DJ” when you walk into this music venue with him, but in actuality, they only had a singular random encounter on the street during one of kenma's smoke breaks from his part-time job at a local arcade bar: this DJ guy just happened to be strolling by when he casually asked kenma if he could bum a cig off of him and come in real quick just to use the bathroom

+ hipster ! kenma . says, not only is it too expensive to touch up the roots of your hair so often with bleach, but it’s also way too high maintenance, and according to hipster kenma, high-maintenance = highly manufactured, super lame. clearly, presenting with two-toned slightly unkempt hair with a heroin-chic grunge look is some sort of torch one can hold about their own authentic individuality against the status quo...and how one is too cool to give a fuck, yeah + hipster ! kenma . who only rolls his own cigarettes, being the loose tobacco aficionado he is, and uses Bali Shag brand–exclusively. shows you how to roll it just right into a small narrowed cone shape that’s precise and comfortable enough to rest between your pretty fingers, demonstrating how to twist the tip’s end of the handmade cig in the most exquisitely cool way so that when you flame it up, it'll flash with a dazzling little light show right before you take a puff and inhaaale + hipster ! kenma . shows you his entire collection of vintage 8-bit video games, his faves are the few that are most rare and special edition versions where only a handful in the world were made (500 copies worldwide to be exact) + hipster ! kenma . will often wear high quality acetate-plastic glasses with thick-rimmed frames – non-prescription. boy has 20/20 vision and, more often than not, has his bicolored strands of hair hanging over his eyes, barely able to see from his own peripheral vision, so can someone please explain why the guy has thirteen different varying-style pairs of them? + hipster ! kenma . who is, duh, a self-proclaimed male feminist. he even has a cat onesie for his hairless sphynx kitty made of organic cotton with the words 'The Future is Female' printed on it. he makes sure to put the garment on his penisy-looking cat before going out on any first date in case he happens to score that night by getting to bring the date home

+ hipster ! kenma . buys and then wears a thrifted 90s D.A.R.E. T-shirt three days in a row, but later that weekend does cocaine off the cover of a vinyl record by The Stokes at this hole-in-the-wall dive bar while attending Yamamoto’s birthday party

+ hipster ! kenma . hates every mainstream video game, yet you’ll still catch him playing Pokémon GO on the DL when he thinks no one is looking because the nostalgia can’t be beat no matter how much his little alt-heart tries, plus deep down he refuses to quit until he’s at least caught the shiny versions of Jolteon and Umbreon

+ hipster ! kenma . has a nose piercing, with a vintage sterling-silver stud that comes with a whole intricate story and history behind it that he purchased at this obscure pawn shop out in the arts district of a super hip neighborhood he heard about + hipster ! kenma . whose newest pair of skinny jeans are so tight on him, they’ve begun to chafe the delicate skin of his thighs and a small rash developed as a result (despite hinata repeatedly mentioning they were probably a bit too snug), so he takes himself in for a yearly doctor’s visit for a simple topical cream prescription fix when his physician informs him they’d detected some curious results of a lower sperm count, asking kenma if for any reason he’d been doing anything as of late that would impact his testicles…oopsie

+ hipster ! kenma . whose favorite beanie is definitely in need of a wash soon, however he can’t just go ruining the ethically-sourced organic cashmere it's made of and risk ruining this special material + hipster ! kenma . would grow a “dope stubble beard” – if only he could, but alas – (and he would use the word, alas, whenever sharing this dilemma with anyone) alas, he—cannot. “...damn my damned genetics...”

+ hipster ! kenma . has not been to see or support a nekoma game as an alumni ever since he seriously started working (–biking to work, by the way, because ‘excess fossil fuels are whack’) in the tech world at this startup company of some trendy new game app…since being associated with any jock conduct anymore is the antithesis of his counter-culture lifestyle now

+ hipster ! kenma . believes heavily in the issue of gentrification in the new neighborhood he just relocated to, without realizing he is part of the problem + hipster ! kenma. has a snide opinion about eeeeverything …

+ hipster ! kenma . part 2 . ⇢ + link2masterlist . ⇢

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bridenore · 2 years

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HD Wireless 2022 recs

Here are some of my favorite fics from @hd-wireless 2022. Listed in alphabetical order.

A Case of You by @epitomereally [97k]

Draco was doing just fine working as an Unspeakable in Paris, hanging out with his living and ghostly pals, inventing new spells, and definitely not thinking about Potter. Then, Lucius just had to break out of prison and turn his world upside down.

Now, Draco has to return to England, where he is forced to confront how family ties bind us—and one infuriatingly fit Harry Potter.

An Emerald In The Sky by @corvuscrowned [6k]

The hardest part about shagging an Unspeakable is that they’re not allowed to speak of anything. All Draco knows is that Harry works in Time. Harry works in Time, and while he’s out there in all of that time, it is as unforgiving to him as it is to anyone.

Somewhere along the way, Draco realizes he's been thinking in lines, when he should have been thinking in circles.

I Won't Let You Fall Apart by @xanthippe74 [49k]

Harry has spent the year after the war staying out of the public eye, dodging political battles, and standing firm against pressure from his friends. But he has a secret plan to get away from it all. He just needs to testify at one more Death Eater trial: Draco Malfoy’s.

Little does Harry know what his act of compassion will cost him—and Malfoy.

In Free Fall by @kbrick [81k]

Draco Malfoy is a serious university student whose idea of a good time is translating Ancient Greek texts and having game night with his small circle of friends.

Harry Potter is a hard-partying adrenaline junkie who’s happiest when he’s leaping from an airplane or hurtling over a waterfall in a kayak.

They have nothing in common.

But when they reconnect in the Muggle world, curiosity prompts them to strike up a deal. Draco will show Harry what it's like to be a swotty overachiever and Harry will show Draco what it's like to live life dangerously. It'll be fun, and really, what's the worst that could happen? It's not like Draco's going to fall in love with the guy or anything.

Kept in Cages by @sweet-s0rr0w [76k]

Deep in the heart of the Ministry lies the Beast Division: a hidden room where ancient beasts roam, and winged creatures soar, and grumpy giant ferrets eat all your biscuits unless you keep them well hidden. Draco Malfoy would know – he’s been working there for five years now, after all.

Meanwhile, on Level One, ex-Golden Boy Harry Potter is stuck in another interminable policy meeting, completely unaware of the mysterious comings and goings just three floors below. But when a giant snake emergency requires the assistance of a Parselmouth, Harry finds himself thrust, unprepared, into Draco’s weird and wonderful world – and naturally, he can’t keep away…

Open Fire by @slytherco [38k]

Once upon a time, in a Death Eater-occupied Britain...

A story about the Second Wizarding War, still going on ten years after the Battle of Hogwarts. While the Light Side struggles to keep evil at bay, those who wish to rid the world of Mixed-Blood Wix roam free, growing in power and persistent in their cruelty. In the meantime, in an undisclosed location, a group of rogue partisans works tirelessly, doing one thing, and one thing only: killing Death Eaters. Things complicate when during one of their raids, the Pack captures an old acquaintance who turns out to be a double agent. He can help them change the course of the War but change isn't something their leader takes in stride, both on the front and in his heart.

An AU based on the movie "Inglourious Basterds"

Paper Rings by @lettersbyelise [50k]

When Harry’s in need of a divorce lawyer, he has no choice but to turn to the best in the trade. Draco Malfoy’s reputation for discretion is flawless, and his track record for winning cases is close to perfect. But he’s also ruthless, passionate, and as infuriating as ever, and the brief relationship he and Harry had in Eighth Year still feels painfully fresh despite two decades spent apart.

What Harry and Draco used to be is all in the past. And surely they can work together in these new, emotionally charged circumstances without falling in love all over again… can’t they?

The Siren and the Sailor by @gracerene [13k]

"I'm fine," Harry said, and for the first time in years, he meant it. Because right now, Harry wasn't living his life—he was on an adventure.

Take the Moon by @tackytigerfic [15k]

Harry Potter has always wanted a family of his own, and when a deadly blood curse forces him into a marriage bond with his best friend Draco Malfoy, it looks like he might just have found one.

Living with Draco (biscuit-lover, no work/life balance, good hair) and his son Scorpius (also biscuit-lover, colour-codes his bricks, proud bearer of plastic swan-shaped garden ornament) gives Harry the routine and companionship he’s always craved. There’s also the matter of the really great sex (because what’s a marriage of convenience without a little fun, after all?)

It's just a shame they’d always planned to break up after a year…

This isn't the story of the marriage. This is the story of two hurt and damaged men who learned how hard they could work for the sake of love.

taste you like a drug by @drarryruinedme7 [3k]

The truth is: I can stop smoking. I’ve done it a couple of times before. I simply don’t want to. I guess Mione’s right, Malfoy’s just the same: I don’t want to quit him.

You Know the Feeling by iota [12k]

Harry waits, but the hex never comes. In the mirror, Malfoy’s eyes dip shut, and he lets out a soft sound that goes right through Harry, heat rising in his body, pushing out against his chest.

Malfoy turns slowly, careful not to dislodge Harry’s hand. He swallows, Adam's apple bobbing, then speaks, his voice low. “Don’t start something you won’t finish.”

***

Harry’s not sure why he’s started hooking up with Malfoy. Boredom, or the heat of the summer, maybe. Whatever it is, it’s nothing too complicated. Right?

I hope you enjoy these stories as much as I did!

#my recs #drarry #drarry recs #drarry fest #HD Wireless

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sunburnacoustic · 1 year

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The First Great British Guitar Band of the 21st Century

(NME, October 1999 after the release of Showbiz)

Oh the angst! The Pain! Searching for truth in a meaning less world.. Such is life in Teignmouth. Just ask Muse, three lads who've escaped small-town hell to be the toast of America. This just looks silly.

Three 21-year-olds from the sleepy fringes of Devon, lording it up in a glitzy Manhattan hotel lounge, chomping gleefully on tree-trunk cigars like they've just shagged New York senseless and eaten the entire music business for dessert. Any minute now these straggly indie-kid interlopers are sure to be turfed out on to the sidewalk with all the other guitar toting losers, back to their Transit van world. See ya. Keep dreaming, suckers. Except this never happens. Because even if they remain just above toilet-gig level at home. Muse are trainee rock royalty in America right now. Madonna herself beat half-a-dozen bidders to sign the youngsters to her Maverick label last November. Which is why the Teignmouth trio are billeted in New York for three weeks of back-to-back promotion for an album that hasn't even been released yet.

When British record companies sniffed around Muse, they declared them 'the new Radiohead' and shuffled away. When American labels saw them in New York's CMJ in November, they declared them 'The new Radiohead!' and formed a queue to sign their asses on the spot - cultural differences or Brit snobbery? Probably a bit of both, as Muse are more than the new Radiohead - they're the new Pixies, Nirvana, Mansun, Queen and Guns N' Roses too. And in their own broody intense way, they are about to explode.

Matthew Bellamy (singer/guitarist), Chris Wolstenholme (bass) and Dominic Howard (drums) were thrown together in a dark place of stagnation and decay, despair and degradation. It's called Teignmouth. Just below Torquay on the English Riviera, Teignmouth is a black hearted realm of eternal torment from which few souls emerge unscathed. Beneath its sleepy surface of genteel retirement homes and crazy-golf ranges, something deeply wicked festers in the remorseless south Devon sun. Possibly. "It's sort of like Torquay without the nightclubs" shudders Dom. Sounds pretty sinister. Like one of those elegantly shabby red-brick English towns where it's forever 1952 apart from the raging crack problem... "I think the best way to describe Teignmouth would be if we sent you the article that was printed on the front page of the local paper," sneers Matthew. There's a picture of the mayor of Teignmouth putting our CD in the bin because apparently we said in some interview that Teignmouth is a boring place, full of drug-takers. He said "I don't know who these drug-takers are, no-one takes drugs here...' Hahaha! That gives you an idea of what the town is like." Naturally, growing up in a stifling backwater run by rock-hating killjoys straight out of Footloose, the Muse boys were sometimes suicidally bored. They even resorted to doing 'dodgy stuff' on occasion.

There was a whole lot of nights when there was nothing to do and the only stuff that was fun to do was music," recalls Matthew. "You ended up doing dodgy stuff like breaking in to swimming pools, just because that was something to do. Most of the friends we had have either gone to University or become drug dealers." Ooh, the mayor will love that. Picture a bonfire of NME's outside the town hall. But at least the nascent Muse had something to kick against. And kick they did, starting with their debut sixth form gig five years ago. "The first gig we ever played together was a Battle of the Bands contest," says Matthew. "We wore loads of make-up, played loads of trashy punk stuff and got the crowd to invade the stage and smash all our gear. And we won! That's the weird thing. Because we beat all these bands that were really technically proficient, bands that sounded like Jamiroquai. People were shouting, you fucking cunts!' That totally affected our view of what music's about - it's not necessarily about music, it's about really believing in what you're doing."

So Muse kept plugging away, ignoring their critics, trashing their gear, dreaming of the big league. They eventually signed with a West Country management company and won a UK record deal with Mushroom, home of Garbage. And now, five years later, Madonna owns their souls. Sweet revenge on snobby old Britain and tight-arsed little Teignmouth, right? "That's what started us but I don't think that's what we're doing now," says Matthew. "The stuff we write now is more of a realisation of what the world's like. It's easy to blame stuff on a small town but then you go out there and you realise that some of the attitudes that you thought were just in your small town are actually all over." Muse's debut album is called 'Showbiz'. Oh yes. Most first albums contain two or three half-great peaks padded out with fillers. 'Showbiz' has a dozen tracks. ALL of which are heart-wrenching Wagnerian uber-anthems with fiery Spanish rhythms seismic meta-choruses and bile-spewing ultra-lyrics from the scabrous depths of Matthew Bellamy's charred-black heart. In other words, it's fucking great. But, bloody hell, is it miserable. Not trouser-fumbling hey-nonny-no Belle and Sebastian wistful nor chest thumping Daddy-never-loved-me Pearl Jam feel-my-pain self pity. Not even beautifully desolate and fragile like Thom Yorke, but aaaargh! post-apocalyptic heart-on-skewer Nick Cave tormented and urrrgggh! self-lacerating edge-of-darkness Ian Curtis fucked-up desperate. Heroically, bracingly, cathartically tragic. Hooray!

And yet Matthew seems like a pleasant well-balanced chap in person. Why the long face Sadboy-Slim? "Erm.... is this the time or the place?" Matthew wonders nervously "I don't think it is. Aren't we all tormented in some way? I've always had trouble.... I think it's like existentialism or something. The problems I'm having, if everyone else is having them the world's a scary place." Is miserable music some kind of perverse comfort in a cruel world? "All I can say is some of the music I listened to when I was young was like how we sound," shrugs Matthew. "That emotional deep stuff was what made me feel good because someone else out there is saying things the same as me. I used to listen to a lot of blues - Robert Johnson, Ray Charles I think that music was way deeper than I could have understood but for some reason it spoke to me."

Of course, Muse will be roundly mocked for taking themselves so seriously. But cynics said the same thing about Nirvana at the end of the '80s. Remember these boys are only 21, hurtling into a new millennium with their emotional wounds wide open. "I think things pick up generally towards the start of every decade." nods Matthew, spotting light at the end of a very long, very dark tunnel. "In 2000 or 2001, people will start getting more positive. There's a lot of fear hanging around which people are trying to deny but there is. And when that's over hopefully there will be a positive thing. Either that or extremely negative, hahaha! And it will all be over..." The first great British guitar band of the 21st century has arrived. Enjoy them while there's still time.

#Muse band #Muse interviews #1999 #NME #Matt Bellamy #Dom Howard #from the archives - rocketbabydolls.com #where would we be without the internet archive #the websites are all gone #muse band #matt bellamy #dom howard #muse #muse interviews #Showbiz Muse #Showbiz era

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belovedindierock · 2 months

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Bent out of Shape

Cranky, playful, and maybe just a bit cracked, THOM YORKE has channelled his anxieties into a new solo album. Join him as he ponders the future of Radiohead and the end of civilization.

by Brian Raftery / Photographs by Jack Chessum

THE FLIGHT LAST night was torturous. He didn't sleep—he never sleeps, in fact, no matter what he tries. The herbal pills shut down his body but not his brain, and melatonin gives him wide-awake nightmares that he dubs "the horrors." Sometimes he works on songs on his laptop, but usually, by the time he's halfway through the air, Thom Yorke is silently freaking out. But this morning he woke up, put on a Björk tune, and got a massage. Sitting in an abandoned, librarylike meeting room at Philadelphia's Loews Hotel, he walks over to a window framing the skyline. The sky outside is a wondrous blue, and the 80-year-old Ben Franklin Bridge looks as if it could reach into heaven. Yorke takes it all in, sweeping his arm across the display of buildings. "You know, you land in the U.S., and you look out the window here," he says. "And all this infrastructure, everything that's going on... it will not exist."

He launches into an explanation of how it will all go down: The world's oil supply will be depleted, American won't be prepared, and the City of Brotherly Love as we know it could be gone in the next 100 years.

This is what Thom Yorke is like on a good day.

His malaise is understandable. Yorke is a few months shy of 38, and like most people who pay attention to what's going on in the world, he's scared shitless. Much of this fear is channelled through The Eraser, a heavily electronic side project—he bristles at the term solo album—that Yorke recorded with Nigel Godrich, who has also produced albums for his band Radiohead. Its nine songs are jittery meltdowns about alienation and anxiety, and it's hard to listen to it without thinking, Man, does his voice sound good when it's so far up in the mix. Also, is the apocalypse going to arrive before track six is over?

And yet, because he has a partner, Rachel Owen, and two young kids, Agnes and Noah, and because it's no fun to be a gloomy Gus all the time, Yorke remains a 21st-century optimist, one who believes that things are bad but we're not entirely screwed. Yet, "I have to be positive," he says, "because when it comes down to it—how do I say this without sounding really revolting?—you have to get up every day with love in your heart."

He pauses, his face frozen in a wince.

"There you go. I sound like some sort of lunatic. I'll just say I haven't slept much."

There is absolutely nothing surprising about seeing Thom Yorke in person. With the exception of the mid '90s Pablo Honey era—during which he rocked a blond shag that made him resemble Garth Algar after partying in The Dark Crystal—he's appeared more or less the same for over a decade: spiky dark hair, a flatlined gaze (the result of a lazy left eye), and some tentative stubble. He dresses his age, in jeans and a white short-sleeved dress shirt, but looks five years younger—not surprising, perhaps, since 33 is the scientific proven median age of Radiohead's fan base.

What is surprising, though, is that while Yorke sounds as tense as ever, he's looking relatively relaxed these days. The perpetually tortured glare that greeted reporters and hangers-on during the OK Computer era has been replaced by an occasional nervous laugh and some self-deprecating digs. "It's difficult to tell how people have changed," says Radiohead guitarist Ed O'Brien. "But Thom's been in a better headspace for quite a few years."

Part of the reason for this reversal, Yorke admits, was The Eraser. After Radiohead's exhaustive tour in support of 2003's Hail to the Thief, the band needed a rest. Yorke retreated to his home base of Oxford, England, gathering blips and beats that had been lying around for years and assembling them with Godrich's help. "After the last tour everybody decided to take a break and have kids," says Godrich. "But Thom had actually had his kids first, so he was given this space to think about what he should do. And he thinks very hard about that." Everyone in the band knew about the project, but when Yorke describes the recording, it's as though he's talking about having an affair. "We were getting together a week here and a week there, and it really wasn't a big deal," he says. "And because it wasn't a big deal, it was fun. It felt like nobody was watching."

What happened on that last tour that made you so anxious to work on The Eraser?

The last show was Coachella, and by the end of that, we'd completely lost interest and lost confidence. Part of the nail in the coffin for me, personally, was going on after the fucking Pixies. It's like going on after the Beatles. It was a massive big deal, and I really, really, really didn't want to do it. It was an odd situation, as well, because I think the Pixies misread it. They thought it was because we didn't like them. I lost sleep for a month. It was time to stop for a bit.

What happened when you stopped?

The interesting thing was the lack of momentum, the lack of doing anything. You just sort of go into this loop where you're like, "Ahhhh, fucking hell," because nothing's done. Unless you finish a song, you can't move on. That's what was the good thing about The Eraser, going bang, bang, bang, bang, bang, and it was done. I want to get a bit of that bang, bang, bang, bang thing back again.

Making The Eraser may have been cathartic, but it's a very bleak record. There are songs about distrust, isolation, bombs in the Underground...

I have many bleak thoughts. Don't get me started, man, It's one f my specialties, apparently. I'm concerned for our future, generally speaking. I'm concerned for my children's future. The reason I called it The Eraser is because the whole thing was written just trying to forget all the things that scare me. For example, we've reached the point where the [oil] supply has peaked. So what's going to happen? It's this enormous fucking elephant in the room, and everybody in the Western world is ignoring it. It's insane. And me being me, I don't ignore it. I guess I have too much time on my hands. So yeah, big surprise that I happen to be writing about that.

How do you keep those things in mind and not have it weigh down your life?

I have periods like that, which probably means I should be [institutionalized]. But I'm not a pessimist. I've gotten involved with this Friends of the Earth [group]: in the U.K. they're a big thing, like Greenpeace. They have this campaign to get the government to reduce carbon emissions by 60 percent by 2050 or something like that. And it's quite interesting to be sitting down with these people, and them actually saying, "These things are achievable."

We've got 50 years to reassess how we interact with the world around us. And it could be really exciting. It's not like this [points to window] is making us happy. Sitting in gridlock is not a blissful experience.

So what about stepping up your political involvement, like Bono or Bob Geldof?

I'm not capable of becoming a big spokesperson. I don't think it's a good idea for the sake of my sanity. You have to know what your limits or strengths are, otherwise you'll crack. And taking on the responsibility in that way is really tough. You have to retain your independence of mind because everybody has a different [opinion]. It's not good for you. It's purely self-preservation.

But you've spoken out against Bush and Blair in the past.

I have a problem when I make personal attacks. I always say, "Well, they don't make personal attacks on me." It's bad karma doing that shit. But at the same time, they're pretty good at racking up their own bad karma. I find it very difficult to worry about that level of karma when they're still preaching about democracy.

Do you ever wish you weren't aware of all this stuff? That you could shut it out?

I wish I could find the pill. Unfortunately, all the ones I've tried only make it worse. [Laughs] The stuff that makes it go away for me is listening to music. That's always going to be the best way.

Have you ever tried antidepressants?

Oh, no! GlaxoSmithKline's legacy to the world is these poor bastards who can't get off Prozac. That's a fucking evil organization. Oh, I can't say that, can I? [Pauses] That's a very astute organization. They obviously know exactly what they're doing.

IN NOVEMBER 2000 this magazine put the pouty faces of Yorke and his bandmates—O'Brien, guitarist Jonny Greenwood, bassist, Colin Greenwood, and drummer Phil Selway—on the cover, along with the question, "The world's greatest rock band?" At the time the answer was pretty easy: Sure, why not? They were only a few years removed from the laser-show vignettes of OK Computer, and they'd just released the successfully audience-segregating Kid A, the only chart-topping record to include a relevance to rampant lemon-sucking. Besides, the pickings were slim—other groups mentioned in that issue included Disturbed and the Insane Clown Posse—and so being the world's greatest rock band was about as admirable as being the world's most dazzling salt-rock formation.

Despite the good-but-not-great sales of 2001's Amnesiac and 2003's Hail to the Thief, the fact that they have released only one new song in the past two years, and the ascent of bands that sound more like old-school Radiohead than Radiohead do, the answer remains the same: Of course they're the world's greatest rock band.

Much of this has to do with Yorke being one of the last truly myth-shrouded frontmen left. Not to slag on the competition, but the Gallaghers no longer have the tunes, Bono isn't enough of a recluse, and Chris Martin still hasn't written a song as good as "Karma Police." Even musicians who aren't Radiohead fans speak glowingly of them. "What they're doing with musical ideas is really genuine and authentic," says Sonic Youth's Thurston Moore. "They could really become super arena-rock, because they had that promise. But they take another turn with [their sound], because they want to do different things.

And like Moore, Yorke finds himself in the position of unlikely rude elder statesman.

Do you feel old?

I feel old. And wise. It's a fucking weird thing, because I've always wanted to do that thing of growing old disgracefully, one way or the other. It's a bad idea to say to yourself, "I wish I was 20 again." I hated it. I used to go through really bad periods.

What was going on?

I was—well, I am—sort of confrontational. If I don't agree with something, then I'll rant and rave about it. It was almost pathological. Early on I used to get into all these scrapes with people. I'm sort of proud of that, because it kicks up the dust. The Arctic Monkeys—they have a bit of that, which I think is good. I don't really understand the music myself, but they've been put in that position, and they're really young, and they don't give a fuck. There's all these people all over them like a rash, and I can remember exactly what that's like—all these people going [affects a sleazy coo], "Oooh, we'll have a piece of you." And I think biting the hand that feeds you is incredibly important.

Nowadays are you more comfortable with the inanities of fame?

They don't happen anymore. There seems to be this threshold, and during the OK Computer period, suddenly all this shit started happening, and you're this moving target, and weird people start attaching themselves to you.

With Kid A and Amnesiac, it was tough making those records, but at the same time, it was exciting to feel like you were basically jumping off: "Fuck the lot of you! We're off!" The most amazing thing about it was I remember sitting in Central Park, and Kid A was No. 1 for one week—like some sort of clerical error was going on. How the fuck did we do that? No videos, no bullshit—we minimized it as much as we could. Knowing that we'd never get away with it again was like our little proxy Great Rock 'n' Roll Swindle.

So do you have a normal life in Oxford?

It's fine. Really. It's good for the soul to see the same people walking down the street and not get hassled. I only get hassled once every two or three days—someone might come up, but it's usually a nice thing, a positive thing. So I cannot complain.

Are your kids old enough to know what you do?

My [five-year-old] son came to our first show in Copenhagen. I can't get anything about it out of him: "So what do you think?" [Mimes a childlike shrug]

LIKE SO MANY other easily distracted creative types with too much free time and too little restraint, Yorke started blogging last year. The posts? Strung-together rants, plus the occasional in-the-studio update (Radiohead have been recording a follow-up to Hail to the Thief since last fall, though Yorke says they're nowhere near done). Yorke's prose style is choppy and scattered, and his entries make for an often disturbing read: Extremely personal, grammar-be-damned lines like "I was struggling, feels like we been trapped for a long time" are posted with no additional details, leaving readers to wonder if Yorke has gone completely crackers (and also to ask, "When did he start using smiley-face emoticons?").

I'm going to read you a few of these blog postings...

Oh, goody.

"Have come through another crisis, shaky but intact." What crisis?

[Pauses] Just wondering whether [Radiohead] should be carrying on. I always wonder whether we should be carrying on. We all do, really. In January and February we were still trying to work out what was what. It just seems to take a monumental effort to get everything back in gear. We stopped for so long. You need to be hanging out a lot and sharing ideas without realizing it. You can't disappear for six months and come back and expect it to be wonderful. And by rights now, we should have split up. Isn't that what we're fucking supposed to do at this point? We're not fucking 20.

Here's another one: "I'm fucking tearing my hair out. Too much at once." It sounds like you put a lot of pressure on yourself.

The pressure's from all of us. There was a long period of time when we didn't have a producer. We didn't have someone external giving us feedback. And by default, that meant that I, for whatever reason, was the one saying yes or no, and I was tearing my hair out because I couldn't wear both hats.

How about "There are giant waves of self-doubt crashing over me."

Ah. There I go again.

Is this an allusion to depression? You've talked about depression in the past.

Maybe. I mean, I can never work out if it's depression or just lack of energy.

A FEW NIGHTS LATER, outside Philadelphia's Tower Theatre, a determined-looking teen stands on the corner, index finger in the air. Like so many other 'Headheads milling about, he has an almost zero chance of getting in; the Tower holds only 3,000, and the seats for tonight's show—the band's first Stateside concert since they were forced to headline over the Pixies—sold out in seconds.

So he'll miss out on the mad rush when the band takes to the stage with "You and Whose Army?" He'll miss the nine new songs, many of which sound like a return to the rock-oriented Radiohead of The Bends (especially the soulful "House of Cards" and the Wire-in-a-haunted-house "Open Pick"). And he'll miss out on one of Yorke's most physically animated performances to date: the frontman staggers, flails, and waves, and at one point appears to approximate Axl Rose's shimmying snake dance (thought the homage is probably accidental). To the casual observer, it could even look as if he's having... fun.

When you were in the studio earlier this year, pondering the breakup of the band, how serious did it get?

What will probably irritate me about talking about that is that people make a big thing out of it. Well, what do you want me to say? Do you want me to say it's all wonderful and that we never thought about it? I think it's good to be honest about wanting to still have genuine reasons for doing this. But when you say that some days it doesn't feel like the right thing to do, it's made into this big thing. But surely, that's fundamental. That's a fundamental part of the whole process of being a musician—choosing whether to work this way or that way.

How bad did it get? I don't know. Lots of discussions. I think we're a lot closer now than we have been for a few years.

Do you still enjoy being in Radiohead?

Yeah, I do. Ultimately, it's important to me to be sharing ideas with the others. That's the way we do it. You don't notice it until you actually decide to not hang out with each other for a bit.

You've been cracking jokes and smiling a lot on this tour. Do you think your reputation for being humourless is fair?

No. I think it's widely unfair. But it's out of my control. I'm humourless when I think people are wankers. I'm not tolerant of idiots.

What's the biggest misconception people have about you?

Well, that's the same as the previous question!

Johnny Cash Movies, Pixies Who Sing

THESE ARE A FEW OF YORKE'S FAVOURITE THINGS

Walk the Line

"Fucking hell, what a great film! I liked the way they were able to take the [characters'] biographies and dramatize them in a way that wasn't naff."

Liars, Drum's Not Dead

"My favourite record of the moment. I don't know what it is about it—when you have it on, you just zone out. They moved to Berlin, and they sound like they're smoking loads of ganja."

The Bug vs. the Rootsman

They're on Rephlex, which is Aphex Twin's label. It's all sort of bit-crushed, and I guess it's drum'n'bass. I don't know. I'm too old to actually know the difference between this and grime. I'm supposed to know this shit."

The Geography of Nowhere: The Rise and Decline of America's Man-Made Landscape, by James Howard Kunstler

"It's an American book. [Album cover artist] Stanley Donwood lent it to me because we've been obsessing about suburbia. It's an analysis of the way America's developed since the first settlers. There was this period before and after the Second World War where America could have gone one way or another. And it chose to go [toward massive development]."

Björk, "Unravel"

"While you are away, my heart comes undone/Slowly unravels in a ball of yarn/The devil collects it with a grin." I'm trying to get Radiohead to do a cover, because I think it's one of the most beautiful songs I've ever heard."

"Ain't No Fat on This Record"

YORKE COMES CLEAN ABOUT HIS ALBUMS

PABLO HONEY

1993

"Some of the songs we did justice to, and some we were in a bit of a hurry to do. But I think we did a good job on that record, considering we were kind of wet behind the ears."

THE BENDS

1995

"I like the fact that The Bends was so direct, but it [required] a lot of aborted sessions and starting over. For 'Street Spirit [Fade Out]', we were bashing our heads against the wall for days and not getting anywhere. We had countless versions that didn't make sense. I was being impatient."

OK COMPUTER

1997

"The house [in Bath, where it was recorded] was the most haunted house we ever encountered. Some people saw things, some people heard things. What tends to happen to me with haunted houses is I hear the thoughts of this other entity. You can't determine what they're saying; they're not that specific. Unless you're under the influence, and it gets really specific!"

KID A

2000

"I often think about the horn section on ‘The National Anthem'. Me and Jonny were standing in front of all these players; Jonny was writing out scores, and I was going, ‘Just play it like a bunch of cars in a traffic jam! They're really cross!' I really didn't give a shit what they started playing. I was listening to a lot of Charles Mingus. I wanted to take that to the extreme."

AMNESIAC

2001

"It never felt right to make Kid A and Amnesiac all one record; they both have [their own] weird flow. Amnesiac has some good songs on it—we play ‘Dollars & Cents' a lot. And I'm really proud of ‘You and Whose Army?': Jonny was listening to [30s vocal group] the Ink Spots, and he and Nigel had a bee in their bonnet about how it should be done. And I was like, ‘Are you sure about that?"

HAIL TO THE THIEF

2003

"Of all the records we did, I'd maybe change the playlist. I think we had a meltdown when we put it together. ‘There There' is amazing, and ‘2+2=5' is good, but as Nigel says, I wish I had another go at that one. We wanted to do things quickly, and I think the songs suffered. It was part of the experiment. Every record is part of the experiment."

THE ERASER

2006

"Ain't no fat on this record — it's a lean motherfucker. Short records are a good idea—40 minutes is the length of a school lesson, isn't it? Besides, we didn't have a lot left over. There's a B-side called ‘Drunk Machine,‘ which was cool, but The Eraser has a nice sheen to it, and if we put that in, it would have been like putting a massive stink bomb in the middle of the record."

Troubled Man

Confusion reigns on the Radiohead leader's solo debut [3 out of 5 stars]

by Jon Dolan / Photo-Illustration by Joe Magee

Rock music is based on a symbiotic relationship between artist and audience: They do whatever they want, we think it's genius. Get coked up and drive your car into a rehab clinic? Genius. Sober up and sit around a castle IM'ing with the Dalai Lama while a sexy robot maid rubs your temples? More genius. But some rock gods don't play that game, and Thom Yorke is one of them. The career of the Radiohead frontman has been an ongoing process of building a strange, maybe unprecedented empathy between a musical icon and his teeming minions.

Throw on any Radiohead album since 1997's OK Computer rewrote the book on stadium-rock alienation. Each is a little black pool of prog-rock drift where Yorke marinades his ego until it nearly dissolves, leaving him and the listener in a liberating state of disorientation. The woozier the vertigo, the deeper the bond. Now he's also got a blog (www.radiohead.com/deadairspace/) where he can share his most personal, tortured thoughts. Celebrities get rich commodifying their elusive inner beauty, but Yorke's freebie outpourings are kind of subversive.

The Eraser, a stopgap en route to the next Radiohead album (due in 2007), offers nine excursions into ambient neurosis that only heighten that shared sense of confusion. The skittery, out-of-focus beats and electronica brutalism are unsettling, and Yorke's dire musings are more obtuse than ever. But for him, that's just honesy, and this is his most personal, confessional work (Yorke created all the songs with producer Nigel Godrich). Call it a blog with beats--low on guitars and high on abstract expressive moodiness. "The more you try to erase me, the more that I appear/The more I try to erase you, the more that you appear," he yelps above the blurry piano on the title track, before the tension breaks with an almost humane house-music groove. It's one of the few moments when his body takes precedence over his troubled mind.

These are the weirdest tracks Yorke has ever been a part of; even devotees of Radiohead guitarist Jonny Greenwood's comparatively pleasant orchestral outing, Bodysong, may be a little freaked out at first. "Analyse" suggests Swan Lake performed on a hot plate, and "Skip Divided" is like an EKG machine humming old soul tunes. Echoing Radiohead, these songs dwell in the space where everyday communication fails, and we have to look deeper or look away. But Yorke's ability to make alienation seem reassuring--what he refers to here as his "elliptical caress"--always draws you in. Whether he's singing about his childhood or postmodern apathy or math or rain, his drippiest distress calls sound like gospel. Even if he's going nowhere in particular, you can't help but tag along.

#radiohead #indie rock #indie music #thome yorke #jack chessum #SPIN #spin magazine

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chickensarentcheap · 1 year

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Esme at work, Part Two

@tragiclyhip @youflickedtooharddamnit @munstysmind @mrsmungus @secretaryunpaid @residentdormouse @themaradaniels @asirensrage @thesirenrealm @starryeyes2000 @ninjasawakenedmystar

“Hello?”

“Is this Meghan?”

She recognizes his voice. Billy. The barkeep from the pub.

“William,” she warmly greets, with the same flirtatious tone she'd used the night before when she'd dropped his full name for the first time. She'd noticed then how it seemed to get under his skin; in a good way. That little smile that tugged at his lips, the slight blush in her cheeks and the tips of her ears, the way his eyes seemed to soften and sparkle.

It had been one the easiest marks of her career. Most took a while to warm up to her. Taking weeks to even months to soften up their hardened and weathered exteriors. But he'd been eager; ready to let someone in. And what better someone than an established, attractive, and seemingly available woman? One that would do anything...or perhaps even anyone...to get ahead in the world.

“I hope I didn't catch you in a bad spot. I was wondering if you had a little time to spare.”

“For you?” she leans back in her chair, a barefoot planted against the cool glass of the sliding door. A far cry from the evening before when she'd played the part in her business slacks and curve hugging blouse. Clad now in one of her her husband's tattered and frayed t-shirts and pair of baggy grey track pants with the Emery surfboard company name and logo down one leg; small blotches of bleach dotting the fabric in several places. No make up and her hair messy. “For you I can make the time, William.”

A silent pause. And she smirks as she leans further back in the chair and places her second foot against the window, twirling a piece of hair around her index finger.

“I like that,” he says. “The way you call me that.”

“Well that is your name, isn't it?” she crosses one of her legs over the thigh of the other, bouncing her heel up and down against the glass. “You are William, are you not? That is what Billy is short for, I assume.”

“It is,” he confirms with a chuckle. “It's just that no one has called me that in a long time. Since my wife.”

“You're married?” she reaches over to snag the pen and spiral bound notebook off the table. It's full of random notes and doodles in various different colours of ink; her and Tyler both using it to hurriedly jot down names and numbers and any other bits and pieces of information, vital or not. It's old school and shouldn't be necessary with the computer recording everything off the SAT, but technology isn't always fool proof.

“I was. We're divorced. Bad break up. She was shagging a mate of mine.”

“Well that's unfortunate,” she hurriedly flips to a fresh page of paper and places the book on her thigh. “Hard to believe anyone would cheat on someone like you. If you forgive me for being so bold, but you aren't exactly lacking in the looks department. You're quite the head turner. In my humble opinion.”

“Well thank you,” he chuckles, and she can practically see the blush creeping into his cheeks and the tips of his ears. It's not entirely a lie; he is quite easy on the eyes. And a much younger and single Esme would have considered..albeit briefly...crossing that line between business and personal. “You're easy to look at yourself. Very easy to look at actually.”

“I take it this isn't a business call,” she muses.

“Not entirely. It's a little bit of both. Business and pleasure.”

She smirks. “And what kind of pleasure are we talking about? Because I don't usually get into that sort of thing with someone I barely know.”

“I was thinking dinner. And drinks. If you're free.”

“Well that depends.”

“On what?”

“If you tell me a little more about yourself. I can't jump into anything with a stranger. A young woman, alone in a foreign country, far from home. That wouldn't be smart would it? If I just blindly trusted you and took you up on the offer?”

“Well what is it you want to know?”

“Well I think dinner and drinks call for first and last names,” she says. “You know mine. So...”

“It's Flynn. My last name,”

“William Flynn,” she repeats, as she jots it down. “That has a very nice ring to it. How old are you William Flynn?”

'How old are you?” he counters.

“I asked first. And isn't it always ladies first?”

“I suppose,” he chuckles. “Twenty eight. And you.”

“Thirty,” she lies.

“I honestly thought much younger,” he admits, and she can't help but let it inflate her ego. And encourage her to continue with the little game. “You look good. For thirty. Very good, actually. Do you have children?”

“No,” that lie actually hurts to tell, and she tries to push the intense feeling of guilt to the back of her mind. “I'm too focused on my career right now. You?”

“A son. He's three. Collin. Lives with his mom. In Dublin.”

She continues to scribble things down. “That's sad,” she hopes it sounds sincere. “I hope you get to spend time with him. That's quite the trek down to Dublin.”

“Every second weekend. I'd like it to be more often but...” he sighs. “...it is what it is. So you're not married? But you still wear a ring?”

“I've had a hard time severing that last string. It's a bitter pill to swallow. When the man of your dreams picks his job over you. When your happily ever after doesn't exactly turn out that way. He wasn't happy. As a husband. We were much happier before. Before things got too serious.”

“Well pardon me for saying this, but he's a goddamn fool. He has to be to choose work over the likes of you. So have you thought about it? My offer? Dinner and drinks?”

“I'm intrigued,” she admits. “What's in this for me? Other than the handsome and charming company?”

“I have some information. About what you asked about last night. Michael McMann. About his wife and kids and whose involved and trying to stir up trouble. And I've got some names. Of other people you can contact. That are willing to talk. People that are higher up than I am. With real connections.”

“Higher up in...”

“The IRA.”

She grins victoriously and in big letters at the top of the page, right under the name William Flynn, prints those three initials. “You're involved with them? The IRA?”

“It's the family business. What I can tell you is that we're not involved in this. With the wife and kids. We hate the guy. He screwed us over. But we'd never do that. Especially to kids. Even we draw the line somewhere. But whoever is doing this has pissed off a lot of people. Tempers are running high. We want to find out who it is and do something about it.”

“Like a turf war?” she writes that down, accenting it with a big question mark.

“There's a lot of trouble brewing, that's for sure. We want nothing to do with this. The wife and the kids. And they're using us to draw attention away from themselves.”

“Any idea who it is?”

“No real proof. Just lots of rumours. I shouldn't be talking about all of this right now,” he gives a small chuckle. “What will we talk about dinner?”

“Oh I'm sure we can find things to talk about,” she assures him.

“Or things to do.”

“Now don't go putting all your eggs into one basket. I'm not that type girl.”

“I'm sorry, Meghan. I never meant anything by it. Forgive me for being too forward. I...”

“What time for dinner? Tonight is unfortunately not going to work for me. I have prior arrangements that can't be cancelled. But if you're free tomorrow, I can certainly clear my schedule.”

“Tomorrow would be wonderful. I know this is terribly bold of me, but I haven't been able to stop thinking about you. You've been on my mind constantly. Since you walked into the bar. You're very...intriguing. I can't quite get a read on you. There's something so different about you. Way different than any of the women from around here. A mystery, almost. There's so much I'd like to find out.”

“Well if you play your cards right, maybe I'll let you find those things out,” she responds.

“Tomorrow? Six thirty?”

“How about seven? It gives me longer to get ready.”

“Done,” he agrees. “Where do I pick you up?”

Shit, she hadn't even considered that this question would come up. It has been smooth sailing; much easier and seamless than so many initial encounters.

“Meghan?”

“You know, I'm not entirely comfortable with a stranger knowing where I'm staying. I'm a little paranoid about that sort of thing. You can never be too careful in this day and age. How about we meet somewhere? In public. I hate to be such a bother and a worry wart, but...”

“How about we meet her at the bar? We could go in the back room. It's private there. We can have dinner. A few drinks. See where the night takes us.”

She groans internally. “Sounds like a plan,” she chirps. “I'm very much looking forward to seeing you again. To chatting more. I'm flattered. That you thought of me.”

“I've been obsessed with you,” he admits.

“Well hopefully you hold onto some of that enthusiasm. I have to go. I have an online meeting with my editor in a few, so...”

“I'm very much looking forward to tomorrow,” he says. “And I'm flattered as well. That you'd agree to have dinner with me.”

“I'll see you tomorrow,” she promises. “Seven.”

“Seven,” he confirms, and then offers a soft, quiet goodbye before hanging up the phone.

#Tyler and Esme series #Sanctuary #Esme Rake

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listieshadows · 7 months

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Fun fact: as of my posting this, with a month and a half left to go I've seen more movies this year than I did all of 2022. Goodness.

And what gets me is that I didn't have a job last year. I had all the free time in the world to watch anything I wanted! That's why 2022 was a record breaking year for me! But then this year, I do have a job, even it's only part-time, and I still manage to watch more? Even knowing exactly how I did it (my job had me change my sleep schedule, so now I stay up all night and I kill time during my midnight lunches by watching movies), it still surprises me.

I mean, gawddamn, maybe next year I'll get a full-time job and somehow watch 400 movies. It's possible!

(Also, for the record, the movie that tipped me over? Austin Powers: The Spy That Shagged Me. 'Cuz it's groovy, baby–or something.)

#text #film #seriously i'm gonna get way closer to having seen 365 films in a year than i ever thought i'd get

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tumbirus · 2 years

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Good Evening, Speeding up progress towards a healthier,faire and more prosperous world depends on commitment and innovation.And this is where India leads the way. Earlier this month,our foundation released a report on progress towards the sustainable Development Goals (SDGs).The goals -to end poverty and hunger , achieve economic growth ,ensure access to clean water and sanitation ,and more ,all by 2030-were agreed upon seven years ago by every member country of the United Nation. The report was sobering ,showing that the world is currently off track to meet the goals.But thanks to the leadership and progress in India .I remain optimistic that we can still get there. India has used digitation to transform healthcare as well . Peoples identification to preperies payments digital recod storage to communications . Frontline workers will be able to seamlessly conduct outreach and record patient -level data.Patients will be able to easily access their digital records -a function that people in many other more easily available to them-and with patient concent band privacy safeguards ,health providers will be able to share critical data that will improve care. PM Modi and other Indian leaders know that the country can only prosper of women have power over their financial future .The world can learn from the way India has nurtured self-help groups to support women's livehoods and their agency .With over 80 million women mobilised into 7.5 million Shags,this is , essentially,the world's largest community development programme. Indian leaders know,too ,that innovative tools can only reach their full potential when accompanied by collective action .while we need ground -breaking technologies to prevent a climate disater v,we also need individuals to signal that climate change in important -which encorages goverments and businesses to invest in those technologies.......countinu https://www.instagram.com/p/Ci-iL3gPgGP/?igshid=NGJjMDIxMWI=

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muffindaddystyles · 4 years

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𝐒𝐖𝐄𝐀𝐓𝐄𝐑 𝐖𝐄𝐀𝐓𝐇𝐄𝐑

Author's note: let's welcome the Christmas season with this cosy smut full of lovin'. This idea occured to me whilst watching one of the friends episode where Joey loves to do girly things. Yes. Your're welcome.

P.S: Requests are always open, don't forget to give feedback and reblogs.

Cashmere scent of opal stone danced inside the snuggly space, perfect warmth doomed around and Amour Plastique playing on the floyd vinyl recorder. You and him sprawled on the twin bed yet squeezed atop of eachother due to it's size, you steal glances of his soft pink hands like that of kitten paws working with the knitting needles with a determined pout and the crease of brows you're eager to massage.

The words you're reading on the tip of your tongue stuttered into void when he shook his knee in the admist of distraction as you're resting your head atop his thick thighs while reading The tell tale heart by Edgar Allan Poe.

Two cuppa of espresso you guys made together in the celebration of british showers outside cackling empty onto floor and his cinnamon breath relaxed your soul, everytime he'd poke his pink tongue out when the pattern would get quite tricky his sweater with three different hues of sky would ride up his smooth skin causing his ferns to weaver.

You flicker a gaze to him when he groans tangling his middle finger with ball of yellow yarn, "'ey baby—no rush, yeah?" You squeeze his ankles covered with your cupcake socksies. Pecking his thigh and turning on your belly to slide your palms under his sweater.

"But wanna see ye' wearin' it on the day of Christmas." He whines huffing with his puckered lips. You chuckled shaking your head at his cuteness winding your arms around his waist and climbing up his thighs with your legs wrapped around his's like a snail, like that of baby panda.

"Doesn't matter every time's christmas time when it's with ye' my baby." You cooed brushing his spindle of curls back and he groans letting his head fall on your shoulder, leaving a little kiss to your exposed clavicles.

He's been attempting to knit a sweater for you from past two months with the help of bunch of youtube tutorials and your guidance, waking you up in the wee of night with gentle sheepish taps when a certain chain went wrong.

It bursted your heart into little shrads of golden glitter. His affection could be too much sometimes that could make you sob into his neck, make love to him in the hours when world's asleep. Give him all lovin' he deserves. The way he makes you feel that of your first dance with him in the empty parking lot, shared sunsets in the meadows and watching movies at seven in the morning. He still makes you feel like that. Gooey, skittish and like a candy floss disappearing into rainbow water.

"How 'bout we take a break?" You suggest him and he pondered over it fumbling with the stray of lilac yarn at the hem of sweater he's knitting for you. "Hm. ye're right, how 'bout a quick shag?" His grin lopsided as he placed things aside sliding his arm under your bum to pull you closer to him. You snuggled into him giving him kitten whines and cries that turns him super on.

"Doesn't seem borin' t' me." You smirk kissing his temple meandering your fingers in his matte curls massaging his scalp that caused him to buck his hips with a moan of relaxation.

He tilts his face with shut eyes and thin lips exposing more of his milky flesh for you to leave love bites. You peer up at him with lust filled eyes while sucking and lapping an already purple hickey fading as of stardust.

"Mhm. puppy, c'mon do somethin'." He writhes under you grazing his digits beneath your blouse tweaking your nipple gently that caused you to jolt in his grasp. "Shh, 's okay. How d'ya want me?" You cradle his tired face in your warm calloused palms circling your thumb at the littlest of scruff on his chin while bopping his nose with your's.

"Want ye' to fuck meh." His lewd words heightens your breath and you nodded kissing his sweet deep spot beneath his earlobe making him grip the hem of your panties with lousy fingers.

"'M all yours." You whisper to him shimming his brown corduroy trousers down, his rosy lips parts away when you grind yourself over his thick bulge. When you were about to get rid of your panties he caught your wrists coming out of his sensual trance. "Don't. it feels good–when ye'r panties grazes me cock." You gasp flopping into his chest and he giggled kissing your hair sniffing your pomegranate scent.

"You're a minx, Harry Styles." You murmured against his lips with a happy sigh and he cupped your cheeks passionately as you moved your panties aside stroking the head of his cock between your pussy lips lubricating him with your arousal, flicking your clit in circles.

Your temples coming to kiss when you slided him inside your sloppy hole and he thrusted deep inside you where you could feel him in your tummy.

Giggles resonated into your tiny room when thunder erupted outside causing you to cramp around his thickness with a hard squeeze, "fuck." He grunted in between giggles shushing you with gentle kiss when you whimpered as he hit a sweet spot inside you.

You gazed him with hooded lids riding his cock with slow pace, admiring the way ecastasy gleed upon his features. Sloppy, obscene noises of skin slapping skin and moans mingling as you palpitated around his longevity.

"S' warm, could stay inside ye' fo' hours." He rasped out swiveling his hips into agonisingly deep thrust knowing you're bout to topple into the bliss making disgustingly cute noises against the apple of your cheeks as if he's taking bites out of it and you tittered looping your elbows around the nape of his neck playing with his baby curls.

"Mhpm. open ye'r pretty mouth puppy." He trailed his fingers to your lips pulling the lower plump one and when you stuck your tongue out he pressed the pads of his pointer and middle finger into it, sliding it towards your throat. Your eyeballs rolling to your head when with other hand he pinned your hips down fucking into you brutally, you gagged around his digits and in reaction he exhaled through his nostrils spanking your ass.

His stomach coiling with rapture. Your walls constantly squeezing and nursing his cock, the edge of your panties grazing his cock leaving a mild print and your whimpers with blushed face's enough to make him cum into you with long ribbons of white.

He kept fucking into you pumping his cum inside your tiny hole and your whole body shook blissfully like sea waves as pleasure drowned you inside it with a powerful force.

His sloppy thrust coming to halt gradually when you cacooned around his body whining with sensitivity and he stroked your hair affectionately reminding you of his presence. Your cheeks smashed against his chest and perked nipples flushed against him. He sighed with mellowness rubbing your calves and thighs on either side of his waist.

"Don't. Stay inside me." You mumbled hugging him warmly and he yawned pecking your ears, "fo' nap, kay? then we'll get ya cleaned up." He chuckled mid-sentence hearing your little snores.

Taking your chin he pecked you thrice before sliding under sheets with you ontop of him nestling his cock inside you like a warm wrap. The pink sweater with lilac shabby hearts and needles stuffed into it's loop sitting undone on the bedside as his token of love.

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cupidsintern · 3 years

Text

the other night i cried (while thinking of having sex with you) pt. 2

((slowly but surely finishing this bad boy. see yall later for pt. 3 <3))

Steve had a basement. This concept was entirely alien to Billy, since you can’t really have basements in SoCal cause of like. Radiation or whatever. But also because even after the move his current house didn't have one.

This was like, kind of his first encounter with one- Steve didn't even have a normal basement. With like pipes and concrete and shit. Steve’s basement had been converted into a ‘rec room.’

“A ‘rec room’?” Billy couldn't keep a small amount of jab out of his voice. “Jesus I knew you were rich. Didn't know you were shag-carpet-in-basement rich.”

“Do you actually not have basements in California or is this like the time you tried to convince me they celebrate Christmas in the summer in Australia.”

Billy shot Steve a look- halfway to concern. “Both of those things are just facts.”

“Sure, okay, ‘facts.’”

Steve had actually given Billy a house tour when he’d showed up. Only because Billy asked, because honestly he hadn't expected the house to be so big. Steve seemed kind of abashed about it though, maybe almost uncomfortable, so like halfway through Billy just asked where they’d be hanging out- praying it would be Steve's terribly wallpapered room, knowing it wouldn't be- and Steve had said the basement. Which Billy had taken as a joke at first but actually was super into now because the basement was like, tricked out. Shag carpet, couch, one of those glass coffee tables, record player, tv, foosball table, mini fridge.

“You could live down here.” Billy cracked the beer Steve had grabbed for him- out of the aforementioned mini fridge.

“I kinda do sometimes. Upstairs is… boring.” Steve seemed like maybe he was gonna say something else and thought better of it.

Something like. Maybe. Lonely.

Billy was lonely in a house full of people. But he liked this magical basement that smelled like bricks and air freshener. Liked how the couch down here sunk when you dropped onto it and was kinda ratty at the edges- especially compared to the immaculate leather couch upstairs.

And Billy liked how much Steve seemed to like being down here- he’d never really seen Steve in a place that he seemed… comfortable in? He seemed used to most things. Like he got where he was and what to do and how to do it all the time but. He’d had this small smile since they got down here that couldn't go away, could only get brighter. It was like, a nest or something. A tiny little kingdom.

Oh and Billy liked the kettle corn. Steve had set a bowl of it out and kettle corn was Billy's favorite and Steve knew that and it was really really good so for most of the first ten minutes of the movie they'd decided on that was all Billy cared about.

They’d both already seen the movies- they decided to try and marathon all three Rocky movies and got about halfway there- so they talked over the TV a lot. But it was still fun.

Billy realized he hadn't had fun in a while. He hadn't got to like, hangout with anyone in a while.

And he really wanted this to be that- to be just fun. Just cool. Whatever.

But Steve had slid down in his spot on the couch and his knee was centimeters away from Billy’s and that was like 90% of what Billy was thinking about. Steve. Steve and how this was his house. This was his basement, his happy place. And he’d invited Billy here. Billy who was terrible to him and was just generally, pretty terrible, and Steve had invited him to his obvious happy place just to be there. With someone. Out of all the people in the world-

“I’m, uh,” Steve leaned his head down a little, rubbed the back of his neck. “I’m really glad you came over.”

Billy blinked. Didn’t respond right away. “That's like, so lame of me to say. I just. Haven't gotten to hangout here with anyone in a while.” Steve backtracked a little.

Billy shrugged, dismissing the idea, didn't understand why Steve would thank him but. “It’s cool. Me neither.” Steve’s eyes widened a little. “Really?”

“What’d you mean, ‘really’?” Billy sipped his beer for something to do other than making eye contact with Steve.

“Just. I dunno. I thought you had loads of friends.” Steve laughed a little, disbelieving. “I mean, you’re so... cool.”

Billy would have to hunt down and personally kill every single one of the butterflies in his stomach. “I am.”

Steve laughed, more natural this time. “God, and humble too.”

“You bet.” Billy smiled over his can. “... I’m really glad you invited me.”

Billy would never ever admit to liking being anywhere in Hawkins except Steve’s stupid basement. Steve inviting him over to hangout down there became such a regular thing so quickly. Billy sort of got why Steve liked being down there- no windows, sitting at the right angel you couldn't even see the stairs, but rather than feeling cramped, you just sort of felt like nothing else existed. And that was really nice. Reminded Billy of when, back home, he used to just sit on his board past the break, and rather than trying to catch any waves, face out away from the coast. Pretend it was just him in an endless sea- warm at his knees but cooler at his feet. Nothing else. No one else. Except maybe the fish. Billy liked fish- no particular reason. He just liked them.

This must have been Steve's version of that feeling though. Nothing-else-no-one-else. But he liked Billy being there- he said.

Even when Billy left, the smell of the basement carpet- which was surprisingly pleasant- clung to his clothes.

Yet more butterflies.

pt. 1 // pt. 3 coming soon?? hopefully???

#harringrove #steve harrington #billy hargrove #steve x billy #billy x steve #harringrove fanfic #harringrove fic #my writing

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inkandpen22 · 3 years

Text

Young Hearts Divided (6/?)

Pairing: Sirius Black x Female!Reader / James Potter x Female!Reader

Warnings: Swearing, Smut, mentions of underage drinking

Word Count: 3.3k

Part Summary: Y/N, James, and Sirius wake up the day after the party with no recollection of what happened. Then, while Y/N is studying with Lily it hits her like a ton of bricks.

Masterlist

Massive, horrible, no good, very bad, migraine. This day is going to be miserable. All I can do is thank the universe that we don’t have classes today. I did, however, promise Lily that I’d help her on our Potions project. Marlene is our other partner, but based on the fact that she’s wasn’t moving this morning, I don’t think she’s going to make it.

Gathered around our usual spot at the Gryffindor table, I spot my friends as soon as I enter the Dining Hall. Lily and Remus appear normal, along with Peter. James and Sirius, look like real shit. James’s head keeps slipping out of his hand and Sirius is sporting sunglasses, real unsuspicious. I ease down onto the bench beside Lily with a groan. Similar to James, I rest my chin in my hand, barely awake.

“And it’s alive,” Lily teases, already pouring me some much-needed coffee.

“Gremlins are pickaxing my brain,” I whine.

“That’s what you get for dividing up a bottle of Firewhiskey with Marlene,” she ridicules lightly.

“What?” I frown. “I don’t remember doing that?”

“What do you remember?” Remus interjects, his eyes peeking out over his book.

I struggle to recall much of anything. I remember the game, getting back to the tower, changing, people arriving at the Common Room.

“Do you remember dancing on the table?” Lily snickers, picking up my plate to make it.

My jaw drops, “I did what?!”

“Oh yeah!” Peter lights up.

James starts to giggle, “hehe, I remember.”

I reach across the table weakly and bop him on the head.

“Ouch! Headache!” He whines and rubs his hair to ease the assault.

“I don’t remember that,” Sirius finally speaks up, his voice groggy.

“You don’t?!” James gasps, glancing at his best friend beside. “It was the best thing I’ve ever seen! She looked like a goddess, by far the best dancer to ever be in Gryffindor! Oh, and let me remind you of the red leather skirt! I-”

“Thank you, James!” I shut him down before he gets started. “We get it!”

“No, I don’t think we do,” Sirius snickers and nudges his friend to go on.

James shifts in his seat to face Sirius, “well you see, it had two zip-”

With a stone-faced expression, Remus closes his book with a deep sigh and swats James on the back of the head.

“Ouch! Headache!” James shouts at his friend on his other side.

Remus ignores him fussing and opens his book to where he left off.

James mumbles complaints under his breath as he turns back to face the table. He rubs the back of his head with a pout.

“Did anything else happen?” I question, almost afraid to ask.

“I don’t remember what you did after that,” James informs.

“Sirius was the one who got you down,” Remus interjects, not even glancing up from his textbook.

My attention flickers from Remus to Sirius. He removes his sunglasses and peers past James at his studious friend. His brows are scrunch together in evident confusion.

“I did?”

Remus hums while he flips his page. “Like you Santa Clause with his sack.” His eyes quickly meet mine, “not to compare you to a heavy sack of toys, Y/N.”

“You’re fine, Remus,” I dismiss, knowing that boy would never intentionally insult me.

Sirius hum, visibly racking his mind to the memory. “What about after that?” He questions.

“Don’t know,” Remus mumbles. “You disappeared after that.”

Sirius looks at me and I hold up my hands. “No idea,” I tell him.

“Well you guys ended up in your beds, so you probably helped her to bed,” Peter reasons.

Sirius and I nod in unison, trying really hard to remember, but to no avail. Then, we shrug and continue with breakfast. It’ll come to us eventually. Peter is probably right, Sirius and I have gotten drunk together loads of times. We always end up in our beds at the time of night somehow. It was probably just like any other night.

__________________________________________

Lily and I have been in the library for most of the afternoon trying to finish up this stupid project. I swear Slughorn has it out for us. He wants us to fail his class and glorify the kids in his idiotic Slug Club like dear Lily here. My mind starts to wander to breakfast this morning which makes me think of last night. I can’t believe Marlene and I danced on the study table to Bowie. Then again, Marlene would make that happen.

“Are you excited about Hogsmeade this weekend?” Lily asks quietly as she writes.

I sway my head from side to side. “Kinda, I’m sorta nervous to go with James.”

“Take me then,” she jokes.

I laugh for a second, then a sudden sense of deja vu crosses my mind. My face falls and I lean forward. “Could you repeat that?” I whisper so Madame Prince doesn’t hear me.

She peers up from her paper, “I was just kidding-”

“No, yeah I know, just say it again,” I wave along.

“Take me then?” She repeats slowly, staring at me like I have three heads.

I repeat the phrase in my head like a broken record. Where have I heard that before? It sounds so familiar like it’s important or something. Then, it hits me like a smack across the face.

“Holy-” I cover my mouth.

Madame Prince shushes me instantly. “No yelling!”

Lily struggles not to burst out laughing. “What was that about?”

“Nothing. Nothing at all,” I blurt out and hurry to gather my things. I rise from my seat and start shoving things into my bag. “Excuse me!”

“Where are you going?!” Lily raises her voice.

“I have to...” I hesitate, I don’t have an excuse. “I’ve got to go!”

I briskly turn on my heels to head toward the door. Instead, I slam into someone. I stumble back but catch myself. My eyes are met with Sirius stabilizing his balance.

“You!” We say in unison.

“No, you!” We point at each other.

Madame Prince shushes us dramatically. “If you must talk, take it out in the hall!”

Sirius takes my hand against my will and drags me out into the hallway. He checks up and down the corridor and determines there are too many people. Since it's a Sunday, most students hang out around the castle. I struggle to keep up with his pace as he yanks me along to a nearby classroom. He swings open the door and peeks his head inside.

"Sirius, it's all dusty!" I complain, digging my heels into the stone floor.

He pulls me in first, completely ignoring me.

I grunt, stumbling to catch my footing. When I manage, I brush down my skirt and face Sirius as he latches the door. “Was that really necessary?!”

He spins on his heels and points at me accusingly. "We shagged last night!”

“Almost! Okay? Almost!” I emphasize.

“Okay, fine! We almost shagged!” He complies, holding his hands up in surrender.

I'm slowly starting to recall the experience in the alcove. There was a lot of biting, teasing, swearing, hair pulling...

Sirius raises a brow, "what stopped us anyway?”

“Fitch and Mrs. Norris doing their nightly rounds. We almost got caught!” I hiss under my breath, worried that someone walking by may overhear.

His confused expression doesn't disappear. In fact, it intensifies as he narrows his gaze at the floor trying to pinpoint it all together. “And I didn’t try to continue once we were in the clear?”

“No, you were the one who suggested we head back so I wouldn’t get a third detention," I remind him of that crucial point.

Sirius's face morphs as if he's been told the world is coming to an end, a mixture of devastation and regret. Yet, also wonder, as though he's mentally asking him 'did I honest-to-God do that?'

“I chose then to be a rule-abiding student?!” He shouts.

“For my sake!” I justify in a whisper-yell. "We need to be quiet or-"

“Ugh!" Sirius paces away, hiding his face in his hands. "I really hate myself right now," he groans.

“Sirius!”

He whips around and complains. “What?! Can you blame a guy?! We were this close,” he gestures with his fingers.

I sigh, trying to remain civil. If we keep shouting someone will hear us then we will for sure get detentions.

"Look, it’s probably for the best!” I try to look on the bright side. “We were drunk.”

He whines, stomping his foot with a pout etched on his lips. He grumbles, “it would’ve been drunken...sloppy..." a dazed expression crosses his eyes. "Sweaty... passionate-”

“Sirius!” I stop him, covering my ears as I grimace.

“I know! I know! Shut up, Sirius!” He mimics my voice.

There’s a prolonged pause as the two of us avoid meeting eyes. Well, this is awkward... Crossing my arms over my chest, I lean against a nearby desk. After a moment, I glance up from my shoes and Sirius’s eyes are narrowed, focused ahead on the wall.

I break the silence monotonously, “you’re still thinking about it aren’t you.”

“Yes!” He whines, failing about dramatically.

“Stop thinking about it!” I demand.

“I can’t! While you were in the library with Evans, James and I snuck into your room so he could show me the red skirt in hopes that I would remember!” He confesses and instant regret crosses his features.

My jaw drops and I storm across the room to him. "You’re kidding me!”

“That’s when it hit me! Everything! Then, I ran to find you!” He waves his hand, gesturing to me.

“Where was Marlene?!”

Forget staying quiet, that was before I knew Tweedle Dee and Tweedle Dum broke into my dorm!

“Oh, she was there," he nods, not caring in the slightest. "Yeah, she was passed out in bed.”

"You went in there when she was sleeping?!” I laugh breathlessly in disbelief. My fingers comb through my hair as I try to rack my brain around this new information.

“It’s not like we haven’t snuck in there before,” he adds as a side-note casually.

“What?!” I gasp.

Sirius quietly curses himself. “Never mind!” He rushes out.

I march toward the door. “I’m going to kill Potter!" I unlatch the lock and go to open it. "Then, I’m going to come back and kill you!”

Sirius jogs after me. "No, wait!”

He slams the door shut, pressing his palm against the wood beside my head. My fist remains around the handle and I feel Sirius close in on me. The warmth of his breath brushes against my neck and chills run down my spine. His free hand glides across my waist and gives it a squeeze. I turn my head to the side, glancing at me him out of the corner of my eye. He towers over me, leaning against the door. His fingertips glide down my hips to the end of my skit and play with the hem. I spin on my heels to face him, my back now pressed to the door.

“Sirius, we can’t,” I whisper, meeting his gaze.

“Sure we can," he steps closer if that's even humanely possible. "Filch is busy with detention right now and there aren’t any classes,”

“What is someone who walks in and sees us?” I question, my eyes falling to his lips uncontrollably.

"Let them," he mutters carelessly.

Slowly, Sirius closes the space between us and brushes his lips against mine. At first, the action is steady and gentle as though we're getting reacquainted. Then, growing impatient, Sirius wraps his hand around the back of my neck and deepens the kiss at an exceptional rate. I drape my arms around his shoulder, yearning for me. He drops his arm from the door and picks up my legs. I wrap them around his torso instinctively as he walks me over to a nearby desk.

“I let bet that even turns you on. The idea of someone seeing me pleasure you," he mumbles against my lips. His hands wander from my knees and up my thighs to the hem of my skirt. "The way I can make you wet just by touching you." He breaks away from my lips and impulsively presses his palm to my core.

The sudden contact makes me shutter.

A light snicker escapes Sirius. "Does it turn you on when I brush against you in class? What about all those drunken times we stayed up late?” He rubs his fingers against the fabric of my panties at a painfully slow rate.

“Sirius...” I whisper like a plead.

“Next class, I’m going to sit next to you," he states sounding like a command. "Marlene and James are just going to have to deal with it."

Grazing his fingertips over my hip bone to the hem of my panties, he starts to remove the item from my body. He does it so gracefully like the action is an art form. Sirius disregards the article of clothing by tossing it to the floor without much thought.

He brings his lips to my neck and begins to grant it immense attention. “I’m going to place my hand on your thigh under the desk," he describes as his palms press into my thighs. "As the professor talks, I’ll slowly bring it up to your leg. I’ll slip it under your annoyingly short skirt and your panties," he performs the actions as he recites them. "I’ll feel just how wet you are for me and I bet you’re always dripping when you’re around me."

His fingertips slip between my folds and I gasp. My fingers grip the hair at the nape of his neck in reaction to the surge of pleasure.

“I’ll make you cum right in class," he purrs, evidently pleased with himself right now. "Right around my fingers."

My breathing starts to get heavy as he rubs pressurized circles over my clit. I bite down on my lip to defuse my moans.

"From now on, I’ll constantly be teasing you, making you wet every chance I get," he breathes against my neck. "I’ll get you wet for me in the dining hall and make you beg for me to take you back to the dorm."

He picks up his pace, brushing his fingers against my clit. I feel myself quickly approaching my climax. His antagonizing words don't help my self-control.

"I’ll take you in the back shelves of the library," he snickers wickedly. "Make you want to scream my name for everyone to hear.”

“Stop...” I beg, the pleasure starting to be too much.

Abruptly, Sirius grabs my face and makes me meet his gaze. Starring at me sternly, he slips two fingers into my core unapologetically. My hands grip his waist pleadingly, but he continues his assault.

“You’re such a tease, Y/N and you don’t realize," he snickers wickedly as he brushes against my G-spot relentlessly. "With your short skirts, your perfect lips, the way you look at me." He leans in, peering down at my lips to tease me. "You get me so hard. All I want to do is take you into an empty classroom every second of every day, bend you over a desk, and punish you for it. I want to make you feel how I feel.”

I squeeze my eyes shut. “Oh fuck,” I whimper.

“I see the way all the boys look at you, especially James. They imagine what it would be like to be inside you. But you’re mine, aren’t you? Only I can fuck you. Only I can make you cum so hard that you shake. Only I can fuck after you finish and make you beg for me to stop.”

"Sirius, I-" I gasp, the pleasure building up in my core is close to reaching its peak.

Sirius dismisses my pleading and grows more forceful. He gathers bits of my hair and tugs at them to make me reveal my neck. “I can make you cum with my hard dick inside you. I can make you hit your climax right here," he growls in my ear.

His fingers pump in and out at an increased rate, causing me to release a moan uncontrollably. I bite down on my lip, doing my best to suppress it.

"Would you scream for me, Baby?" He kisses my jawline softly. "Would you let me fuck you hard after?” He moves and plants a kiss on my neck.

I feel my walls tightening around his fingers as I drag my nails down his back.

“You’re close aren’t you, Love? You want to cum for me?” He grins against my shoulder.

“Yes,” I pant pleadingly.

I hate giving in to him, adding to his ego, but I need this. I need him.

"You want me to fuck you?”

“Yes please,” I beg, struggling to catch my breath.

He presses his lips to mine passionately with more intensity than ever before. “That’s right, beg for it, such a good girl,” he mumbles against my lips.

Overwhelmingly, hits my G-spot with perfect pressure and at an ungodly rate. “I want to cum for me. You’re already so fucking wet for me. I could fuck you so hard right here, right now. Imagine me pounding into you," he instructs as I feel myself on the edge of my climax.

I dig my nails into his shoulder blades. I'm nearly there. "Sirius, I'm-"

Suddenly, Sirius slips his fingers out and takes a step back, parting from me entirely. My eyes fly open and I watch as the boy gazes at me mischievously with his fingers in his mouth. Casually, he picks up my panties and tosses them back to me with a proud smirk. Dumbfounded, I hold the item in my hands utterly confused. Sirius stuffs his hands into his pocket, waiting for me to say something.

I shift my head forward, "that’s it?”

“Umm, yeah pretty much,” he shrugs with a light chuckle.

Merlin, he had this planned! He was fucking with me the entire time! I'm not sure how much of it was a game, but he purposefully got me close and pulled out!

I hop down from the desk with a huff and slip my panties back on. "What the fuck Sirius?!”

He eyes me up and down as though he's analyzing a product. “Yeah no, I’m not going to fuck you, yet! You don’t deserve it," he determines.

I raise my brows, "don’t deserve it?!”

“Yeah!" He repeats, shifting his head toward me mockingly. "You. Don’t. Deserve. Me,” he emphasizes each word. “Not until you decide between me and James, no sex!"

He reaches out and wraps his hand around the back of my neck, pulling me closer to him. I swat at his arm, but it only makes him grip harder. Hover inches from my face grins. "And let’s be honest here, Love. You’re going to pick me. It’s just a matter of when you’re going to admit to yourself that you love me.”

Suddenly, he presses his lips to mine forcefully and I try to shove him off of me, but he's too strong. Then, he finally releases me with a jolt. He turns toward the door to head out.

“Sirius, I-”

He spins on heels with a cheeky grin. “And you do love me, don't deny it. You said so yourself last night... multiple times actually," he winks.

I scoff, he's impossible! The most infuriating boy on the entire planet!

He strolls toward the door with a wave. "Bye!”

“You man-whore!” I shout at him, so close to just smacking him.

“Tease!” He tosses back lightheartedly. His self-satisfied state unfazed by my insult. “Gee, I just adore our little pet names! Ta-ta Love!” He waves his fingers mockingly before disappearing down the hall.

What the actual hell just happened?

__________________________________

Masterlist

Tags: @hannah220506 @agirlwholovescoffee @a-classic-eye @devilstradegy @blackbirddaredevil23 @tay-mariee @blackpinkdolan @findzelda

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starsarestars · 3 years

Note

❤️ for Winona or 🏡 for Wren (I cannot decide) pleeeeeeaseeee and thank you 🥰

I’m so self indulgent and annoying that I’m doing both at once:

Wren lives in an apartment above the coffee shop he helps his family run, meaning that the place is (more often than not) absolutely reeking of coffee, but there’s the odd twinge of sandalwood and turpentine. There’s plants all over the place and he should really move the ones that drape his bed because he keeps getting hit in the face every morning, but he hasn’t quite got around to it. Most of the time the place is in a state of controlled chaos - It’s cluttered, but he’s familiar with the mess, can navigate his way through it and he knows where everything is. Save for whatever Punk B-side or old 70s film soundtrack is playing, the only thing you can really hear in the flat is Wren humming along to whatever’s playing and the sound of Bubbles trotting through the flat while grumbling. Wren will not shut the fuck up about Criterion Collection films, David Lynch or Suspiria (but will conveniently forget his stint on Degrassi as an extra when he was 13 in which he got ran over by a bus and was permeated through flashbacks for a good five episodes.) His inclinations towards pretentiousness means that there’s shelves lined with all these really brooding and thought provoking films but he’s got a box dedicated for the self indulgent ridiculousness he’s not supposed to like which he will frequently pore through (who doesn’t love Bridget Jones?) Most of the time he’ll either be painting, pawing at his record collection or out for the count on the couch while cuddling up with Bubbles after a shift.

I’d be lying if I said things with Winona and Henrik start relatively easy or in the Villa itself. They instead start all the way in a Caravan Park in North Wales where a four year old Winona lives with her grandparents. By mere coincidence do Henrik’s family go to this park every summer as the cost of renting a caravan for the summer there is dirt cheap. Since she was raised by her Grandparents and wasn’t really around many kids, socialisation and making friends with people her age proved to be a struggle - the reach of her grandparents' influence extended to her not wanting to play games with the other kids in fear that her knees would give out and how she’d horrified Henrik the first time they’d ever met by saying that she’d soon be turning five “if the lord will let me live to see it.” When he asked her how old she was.

Winona was a gifted kid and had a lot of pressure to be this intelligent go-getter, she was expected to seek out independence as quickly as possible and although at first she really liked it and thought it made her more mature there wasn’t much room for her to be a kid and that made the time they’d spend together all the more important. It was the first time in her life she could actually be a kid and have fun and because of how easygoing he is, he draws out a silliness in her and she draws a more serious side out of him. Winona had a habit of abusing the fuck out of her provisional drivers license to drive all the way to the Isle of Wight to visit him and as Henrik would point out, there’s never been a birthday since they’ve met which they haven’t spent together. He’s a stalwart at every Visit to Winona’s family in Greece and if the mere possibility of him not being able to come arises, the absolute kick off from them is ridiculous like you’d honestly think someone died. Same applies for the Bergströms - Henrik’s Nana has been mastering her Princess Cake recipe and Winona will be damned if she isn’t getting a massive slice when she’s there.

The two of them have weathered a lot of stuff over the past few years - serious relationships, break ups, major stressors and career changes, pivotal moments and now they’re at that awkward stage where he’s a Climbing and Wilderness Survival instructor who drinks Seamoss for the flavour and she’s a beleaguered Primary school teacher whose side hustle is a podcast in which she talks about her extensive vibrator collection and how much she’d want to shag a pixie while her roommate looks on in horror. There’s a lot of yearning, pining and crushing which ultimately goes nowhere until Lily signs Winona up for love island and Winona sends Henrik this elaborate five paragraph text before she leaves (which is absolutely memed and copypasta’d post-show) which kicks off the plot of Primary. because now Henrik is wondering what the fuck his best friend is playing at going on something like Love Island when she’s already the countdown champion of 2016, just what he feels for her and how he’s going to tell her all this.

When the two of them actually get together it’s mostly awkward (the five paragraphs is a lot to take in - Did she really have to throw in a Gemma Collins quote?) and now they’re running around like headless chickens all “what the fuck do we do now? How the hell do we go from friendship to being romantic like obviously we want it but holy shit how do we go about it?” And they’re just panicking completely struggling to kiss and act romantic like normal people meanwhile everyone else is like “dear fucking god the intensity, the passion, the deep love they have for each other 😔🤚.” But because they’re so well acquainted with each other and their best (and worst) habits, the dynamic between them romantically is usually silly and they can poke fun at each other while knowing each other's boundaries and never going out of their way to push them. The love and care they have is immense and it’s especially so when they get together romantically - there was always signs of it when they were friends as the hugs would always linger and they’d get all smiley, but now they’re very affectionate and more often than not Henrik will drop off Winona’s lunch for her and they’ll always gush about each other to anyone who’ll listen. They’re very supportive of whatever they pursue and there’s no pressure to be anything or fulfill an idea of what they’re meant to be, it’s easygoing and there’s a familiarity to it that makes it so much easier and more intrinsic to them.

If that doesn’t seal it, the fact that Henrik is the only person in the world allowed to touch the Countdown teapot on the mantle probably does.

15 notes · View notes

alarriefantasy · 4 years

Text

Hi, all! So it seems that the wonderful AO3 user - objectlesson - aka on tumblr as - horsegirlharry - has sadly deleted their fics. I have only a few saved in my files, but there are some I would really love to possess, if anyone has them? I would really appreciate it if you would message me and let me know! :)

Also, I am posting the whole list of amazing stories they shared for our fandom, and I am marking (with an asterisk*) the ones that I have myself, in case anyone else would like them too! <3

Silver White Winters

by objectlesson

In which Louis catches a cloud and pins it down.

Words: 5106, Chapters: 2/2, Language: English

I Must Confess (I Still Believe)

by objectlesson

Louis shrugs, eyes on the road. “You look cute in the blazer, too,” she says nonchalantly, and what the fucking fuck, what is Harry supposed to think?

“You probably do, too, but I wouldn’t know because I don’t even think you own one? Do you ever actually wear the entire uniform?” she asks, deflecting.

“Not since freshman year!” Louis boasts proudly. “They stopped giving me demerits because it’s, like, a lost cause. I literally haven’t seen my blazer in three years, I just borrow Veronica’s when I walk into Mass.” Her grin is very cheeky and bright, and she’s squinting in the sun, aviators pushed up into the overgrown auburn shag of her hair. The horizon is hazy and pink-orange as dark sneaks up on them, the air smelling of sprinkler water and BBQ smoke from people leaching the last warmth of October before summer’s gone for good. Harry feels alive with possibility, eyes watering as she smiles at Louis, unable to stop. She wrinkles her nose like it’ll somehow hide the way it looks on her face to be in love.

Or, Harry is the new girl at an all girl Catholic Girl’s School, and Louis is the unattainable, dashing senior who changes her forever.

Words: 44304, Chapters: 1/1, Language: English

Powerless (and I Don’t Care It’s Obvious)

by objectlesson

“Oh no, Lou, don’t make me laugh,” he whimpers. His Ribena-purple mouth twists into a glorious, breakable shape, and Louis’s heart stops. He should not be getting turned on by Harry’s full-bladder discomfort, his little twitches, his hips-stuttering. And yet.

Words: 4090, Chapters: 1/1, Language: English

The Pink Ghost of Princess Park

by objectlesson

The thought of the vibrator does not go away. It’s sitting there collecting dust all through January, and every time Harry and Louis have to leave town for a press event or a show or to record or what have you, they come back home, and it’s still there, the Pink Ghost of Princess Park, the fucking glittery haunting that Harry cannot stop thinking of Louis stuffing up his arse.

Words: 7556, Chapters: 1/1, Language: English

*Life Saver

by objectlesson

Nerd Boy’s giant, dorky, adorable hand shoots into the air. Louis notices he has chipped red polish on a few of his nails and some tattered friendship-looking bracelets, like the sort you make in camp, and he might hear the distant chime of wedding bells. He thought he didn’t even believe in marriage because it’s, like, oppressive and heteronormative or whatever, but that was before Styles, Harry (Harry Styles!!! What an absurd, wonderful name! What a perfect thing to scrawl in the margins of all his notebooks surrounded in hearts!) appeared in the bio lab at his new school and ruined all his principles forever.

or, Louis is a sweetheart punk with a theater background and a heart of gold, Harry is an inexperienced nerd who plays by the rules. Classmates, lab partners, and eventually friends, what happens when Louis knows he’s in love, but doesn’t know how tell Harry?

Words: 14809, Chapters: 1/1, Language: English

Even Your Honey Dew

by objectlesson

It probably says something about Harry that he’s so obsessed with another omega’s arse.

Words: 9512, Chapters: 1/1, Language: English

What a Heavenly Way To Die

by objectlesson

She’s thought about it a lot, and two big things seem to be holding her back, aside from the uncontrollable paralysis that overtakes her body every time she so much as tries to sneak a hand under the waistband of Harry’s knickers.

Or, Louis is afraid to do stuff to Harry, who has done a lot of stuff to her.

Words: 8052, Chapters: 1/1, Language: English

A Firm Believer and a Warm Receiver

by objectlesson

a few months ago, Louis had his first heat. It was no big deal, aside from it being awkward and weird and all the other things it was supposed to be. He figured he would present as an omega, so he wasn’t exactly surprised or anything.

But then, last week, Harry had his first heat, too.

Or, the omega/omega sleepover fic no one asked for but y'all really, really need.

Words: 10895, Chapters: 1/1, Language: English

You’ll Know What Makes The World Turn

by objectlesson

Sometimes, when things are messy and they have more than a few weeks apart, they need the reminder. It’s comforting to have stars to map your course by.

or, Harry’s blue bandana is a day collar.

Words: 4624, Chapters: 1/1, Language: English

Sing You Butterflies

by objectlesson

Louis stares for a moment before some primal sympathetic force in him activates. He has to help this boy. He can hardly walk, and he seems so young (yet ageless, beyond age, like a sea turtle or a parrot or a tree or something else odd and magical), and on top of all that, he has body glitter clinging to his skin, like that roll-on stuff his sisters used to use as preteens, only pink-gold and twice as thick. It’s, like, professional grade. He’s also wearing grass- and dirt-stained pink silk women’s underwear, so maybe he’s from London. Maybe he’s a drag queen who crawled all the way from a nightclub in Soho just to save Louis from his horribly mundane and woefully heterosexual neighbours out here in the middle of nowhere.

or, Harry’s a clumsy unicorn who accidentally stomps on a witch’s garden and is turned into a human as punishment, so he wanders into a nearby village covered in glitter, still figuring out how to walk on two feet, and meets the fairy-tale-fine Louis, who has to teach him how to live as a human and stop him from eating soap.

Words: 22701, Chapters: 1/1, Language: English

Holy

by objectlesson

She deserves not to be so goddamned put together all the time. Being in the world’s biggest and highest exposure girlband means she’s never seen without a flat stomach, a spray tan, contouring, eyelash extensions, the whole of her body inescapably toned and plucked and waxed so frequently she genuinely forgot what fucking color her own pubes are. Louis wants to eat burgers and smoke weed and be twenty three. She wants to wake up with Harry and spend the whole day in bed fingering each other because they finally don’t have to have goddamn acrylic nails for once. She wants to grow her pubes out. She wants to lounge around in a posh, red-velvet High Hefner robe.

Or, Louis is dressed like a fucking queen, Harry’s begging please.

Words: 6608, Chapters: 1/1, Language: English

Only One I Dream Of: A Drabble Collection

by objectlesson

A collection of all the m/m One Direction drabbles and timestamps I’ve written on tumblr, so my readers on here aren’t missing out!

Words: 5164, Chapters: 5/13, Language: English

Diamonds in the Moonlight

by objectlesson

The 70s au where Harry is a rich girl stuck in the suburbs who thinks she loves Shaun Cassidy, and Louis is the skater who breaks into her backyard and changes everything forever.

Words: 16136, Chapters: 1/1, Language: English

In the Heat of the Night

by objectlesson

“You’re sleeping with me, obviously,” Harry says then, pausing to regard Louis with a funny expression, nose wrinkled and brows drawn tight. “Don’t tell me you thought that I’d let you freeze out here!? Absolutely not! C’mon, the bedroom’s cozy, I dragged a space heater out.”

Louis wants to protest about as badly as she wants to sleep next to Harry Styles, which is a lot. Too much.

Or, Louis is the only butch in London with a truck and Harry needs to move a couch.

Words: 7726, Chapters: 1/1, Language: English

Once Upon a Dream

by objectlesson

“M’not gonna half-ass our fake relationship,” Louis almost snaps, voice sharp with a defensive edge, like Harry wandered too close to a bruise with needy fingers. “Now kiss me again. We’re gonna make every shitty tourist here wish they had stayed in the Midwest. We’re gonna burn Disneyland down with our gay. ”

Harry shuts his eyes and opens his mouth, because he can’t fucking say no to Louis.

Or, a fake dating AU where everyone is lying and they happen to be at the Happiest Place on Earth.

Words: 16643, Chapters: ½, Language: English

From Now Until Forever

by objectlesson

The girls go to Britney Nite and Louis wears Juicy track pants and Harry is not ok.

Niall takes the pint glass back from Harry and takes a swig, regarding her over the rim knowingly. “You’re nervous,” she observes with a grin. “Because you’re gonna get drunk at a gay bar with Louis, and you haven’t told her yet that you wanna marry her.”

“Oh, my god, stop,” Harry scolds, hiding her face in her hands, everything suddenly hot and shivery. “It’s not that,” she adds, even though it most definitely is.

“Then…you’re excited to see Louis in a schoolgirl skirt and bra? Covered in that body glitter that smells like cotton candy?” Niall presses, waggling her eyebrows, making Harry blush at the mere thought of Louis’s golden skin shimmering and sticky under club lights.

Words: 9223, Chapters: 1/1, Language: English

Hello, Heaven (you are tunnel-lined with yellow lights

by objectlesson

“Oh, yeah?” Harry asks, playing dumb as he helps Louis out of his coat before hanging it up. “A new phone charger? Mine’s still broken, the electrical tape didn’t work.”

Louis makes a face at him, all arched brows and tongue pressed into cheek. “Oh a phone charger? Is that what you need?” he quips lightly, voice high and lilting in this sing-song way that’s so, so high and gentle that it’s scary. He’s putting on a show for Harry, and Harry’s thrilled with it, already shivery and hot-cheeked because Louis got him something naughty, and they’re talking about it without really talking about it, wrapping it up in layers of mundanity and domesticity, still so excited to play the role of two Adults living in their new Adult flat in London that they bought with their own money from the X Factor. Harry’s living an unimaginably glamourous life so suddenly, and Louis and his gifts are right in the middle of it, the heart of his every dream.

Or, Louis buys Harry things sometimes.

Words: 2988, Chapters: 1/1, Language: English

Dream About That Casual Touch

by objectlesson

And that was the first thing Louis noticed about her. Not her nipples, or not only her nipples, anyway, but the fact that she was so confident with her body and didn’t seem to care that her tits were sort of soft and floppy and uneven or that she had a little roll of pudge around her hips that poked over the top of her jeans when she wore crop tops. She wore what she wanted to wear whether or not it was in fashion or technically even flattering; her hair was always messy, she only wore makeup half the time, and she seemed to like heeled boots even if she was already fairly tall and they made her tower over the boys. Louis always thought it was so fucking sexy how unconcerned Harry seemed with what people thought of her, how comfortable she was in her own skin. That by itself seemed like a sort-of gay thing, so Louis kept a remote, careful eye on her, hoping to one day see something else that blipped her radar.

Or, Louis and Harry fuck up two dates before they finally get it right.

Words: 7678, Chapters: 1/1, Language: English

*Smoke Dreams from Smoke Rings

by objectlesson

“When I get a craving?” Louis says, “You have to help me chase it away. Distract me”

Oh. Harry can think of about one hundred different ways to distract Louis Tomlinson. One hundred better uses for his mouth, for example. “Erm,” he squeaks, well aware of the fact that he’s grinning and dimpling and blushing all at once, his whole face a suddenly mortifying warzone of transparent emotion. “How?”

“By hitting my arm as hard as you can,” Louis announces, holding out the arm in question. It bridges the gap between them, stiff and expectant, and Harry stares, not entirely sure if Louis’s being serious, if this is some prank that he isn’t clever enough to understand, or if the promise of touching Louis under any circumstances is so titillating that he just can’t process it. Louis rolls up the sleeve of his hoodie then, revealing his pale inner arm in maddening increments, pushing Harry somewhere between drooling and vomiting, he isn’t sure which. He just knows that his mouth is flooded, and the barely-there ghost of Louis’s veins through his skin is the prettiest thing that he’s ever seen. “Go on, hit me,” Louis orders. “Don’t be shy,”

or, Louis enlists Harry to help him with his bad habit.

Words: 18116, Chapters: 1/1, Language: English

Black Stars and Endless Seas

by objectlesson

Or, A Star Trek Original Series AU where Lt. Styles is a young science officer on his first away mission, and Louis is the headstrong ensign assigned to his security detail, and maybe they would be able to function together professionally in a normal setting, but not when their shuttlecraft crash-lands and they end up marooned together on an improbably and unfairly beautiful planet.

Words: 32246, Chapters: 3/3, Language: English

Rose Garden Dreams

by objectlesson

Harry thinks it’s a fever-induced delirium, at first. After all, she’s been sick in bed for a full forty-eight hours following the Best and Most Important beach trip of her entire life because fate is a cruel and jealous bitch who doesn’t want Harry to go on a date with the girl of her dreams.

or, Harry is sick and Louis comes to visit her.

Words: 9464, Chapters: 1/1, Language: English

Palms Reflecting in Your Eyes

by objectlesson

Harry visits Louis at his campus and finds a crop on the wall.

Words: 6496, Chapters: 1/1, Language: English

Wrap You Up in Daisy Chains

by objectlesson

Ten minutes later, an awkward, long-legged, curly-haired, so pale she’s reflective, and so obviously gay-looking Harry Styles is sitting shotgun next to Louis in a bikini, denim cut-offs, and heart-framed sunnies.

Or, Harry and Louis and a too-small bathing suit.

Words: 10613, Chapters: 1/1, Language: English

To Keep the Night From Ending

by objectlesson

It doesn’t always feel real to kiss in the dark, Harry guesses. He wants it to feel real. He wants it to be the realest thing, burnt indelibly into his skin.

Or, Harry and Louis take a night swim.

Words: 5036, Chapters: 1/1, Language: English

Good Enough to Eat

by objectlesson

“Fuck,” Harry mumbles, shuffling. “You won’t give me shit for it? It’s sorta weird.”

“No,” Louis breathes. “Promise.”

“Okay. I just…fuck, I can’t believe I’m telling you this,” Harry whimpers, and he must be blushing because Louis can feel waves of heat coming off him, his embarrassment a hot, palpable thing. “So, like…I love rimming videos. Nothing makes me come harder,” he admits, covering his face with his hands so his voice comes out muffled and strangled.

It takes Louis a few seconds to process, to mentally rifle through his Pornhub search history and remember what rimming even is; Harry has him so stupid he can’t keep stuff straight. His ears ring, and then it hits him, and, oh, fuck. His stomach turns and tightens so quickly he’s gasping, an audible and shameful scrape of air in the dark. “You…really?” he chokes out.

Or, Harry is convinced he’s never gonna be able to try his favorite porn fantasy on a real boy, and Louis offers to remedy this.

Words: 6722, Chapters: 1/1, Language: English

Grenadine Sunshine

by objectlesson

Harry’s only sixteen, it shows right now, and Louis wants…he wants so many things. He wants to taste the faint, sugary ghost of lip gloss, he wants to cup Harry’s face between his palms and swipe the shimmery wet shadows from beneath his eyes. He wants to show him everything he knows, even though he doesn’t know anything about this, about kissing boys or flirting with them or doing their makeup or even showing them it’s okay to want to wear makeup in the first place. Still, Louis just wants, wants and wants and wants. It’s what Harry does to him.

Words: 18067, Chapters: 1/1, Language: English

Only Angel

by objectlesson

Louis pops his hip out, looking down at Harry from beneath the cut of his fringe sassily. “How do I look?”

Harry…Harry doesn’t have words, not really. He sits there on the floor with a half-hard cock, gazing up at this taller, scarier version of Louis with wide eyes. “Like I want you to spin-kick me in the face,” he admits after a moment, shakily inhaling. “You look…really good.”

Or, Louis finds a pair of heels that fit, and Harry wants to be ruined, as per usual.

Words: 6599, Chapters: 1/1, Language: English

Someone Who Knows How To Ride

by objectlesson

Harry gives Louis a lap dance. Or, at least, he tries to.

Words: 5114, Chapters: 1/1, Language: English

Copper Kiss

by objectlesson

Harry’s not allowed to fly back to the UK without marks to remember Louis by.

Words: 4604, Chapters: 1/1, Language: English

You Drive Me Crazy ( I Just Can’t Sleep)

by objectlesson

The first time Louis ends up in Harry’s bed is a total accident.

Words: 18520, Chapters: 1/1, Language: English

Christmas Without You

by objectlesson

It’s Christmas Eve and Harry misses Louis so badly he might be going little crazy.

Words: 5639, Chapters: 1/1, Language: English

Vinyl and Lace

by objectlesson

Harry tries on a skirt in the X Factor dressing room as a joke. Louis doesn’t think it’s very funny.

Words: 7541, Chapters: 1/1, Language: English

Touch of My Hand

by objectlesson

Words: 3104, Chapters: 1/1, Language: English

Fandoms: One Direction (Band)

Rating: Explicit

Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings

Categories: M/M

Relationships: Harry Styles/Louis Tomlinson

Additional Tags: Tour Bus Sex, Bus Sex, PWP, Up All Night Tour, Uan era, Canon Compliant, baby boyfriends in love, Masturbation, Mutual Masturbation, Established Relationship

Born to Make You Happy

by objectlesson

Harry makes a quiet vow to himself that he will be the very best girlfriend Louis has ever had, even if he never actually gets to be Louis’s girlfriend.

Words: 25662, Chapters: 1/1, Language: English

Taste of a Poison Paradise

by objectlesson

Louis notices Harry’s mouth right away.

Words: 9894, Chapters: 1/1, Language: English

A Little Love (is better than none)

by objectlesson

It’s supposed to be no strings attached sex, but Harry’s in love with beauty and tragedy and Louis Tomlinson so there might actually a few strings they’re not talking about.

Or, alternately, the four times they fuck and don’t kiss, and one time they fuck and do (with a few more times thrown in because I’m a mess and know how to write short fics).

Words: 15074, Chapters: 1/1, Language: English

*Take Me Under the Blue

by objectlesson

Louis hasn’t even seen his legs yet. He doesn’t know how they work or how long they’ll be. Maybe they won’t suit the rest of Harry at all, and he’ll have to grow into them or something. It doesn’t matter; Louis has loved Harry for a year with scales, so he can’t imagine wonky legs putting a damper on his attraction.

He supposes he’ll just have to find out. In the meantime, he wonders how the fuck he got here, in his squelching wellies about to save the love of his life from the sea and take him to bed and bang him for the very first time.

It’s sort of a long story.

Words: 19011, Chapters: 1/1, Language: English

#deleted fics #objectlesson #horsegirlharry #larry fics #larry stylinson #larry fic rec

84 notes · View notes

passionate-reply · 3 years

Video

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This week on Great Albums: a fresh look at quite possibly the 80s’ most hated band, A Flock of Seagulls! Spoiler: their music is good, people in the 90s and 00s were just mean. If you want to find out more about how having the absolute best hair in the business ended up backfiring on these poor sods, look no further than my latest video. Or the transcript of it, which follows below the break!

Welcome to Passionate Reply, and welcome to Great Albums! Today, I’m going to be diving into a discussion of quite possibly the most derided and lambasted music group of the 1980s: A Flock of Seagulls. With a strange name, a perhaps painfully stylish aesthetic, and equally trendy and of-the-moment music, that was, for a time, inescapable in popular culture, their legacy forms a perfect target for the ridicule all popular things must face in due time. But even moreso than that, I think A Flock of Seagulls have become not only a punchline in and of themselves, but also a summation of everything that was dreadful and excessive about the early 1980s, with its “Second British Invasion” of synthesiser-driven New Wave. I can think of no better example of this kind of abuse than a famous line from the 1999 comedy film, Austin Powers: The Spy Who Shagged Me. The film is largely a love letter to the 1960s and its Mod aesthetics, and the protagonist, a super-spy unfrozen from this era in time, dismisses the history and culture of the 1970s and 80s as nothing more than “a gas shortage, and A Flock of Seagulls.” But at the time of this writing, we’re about as far away from Austin Powers as the film was from the release of this album, the band’s 1982 debut LP, so I think it’s been long enough that we can start to re-evaluate A Flock of Seagulls’ rightful place in music history.

While this self-titled album was the group’s first long-player, their first release was the 1981 single “It’s Not Me Talking.” Notably, this track was actually produced by the legendary Bill Nelson, who also released it on their behalf via his personal label, Cocteau Records. Ever since discovering this for myself, I’ve found the connection between Nelson and A Flock of Seagulls fascinating, and also satisfying. Despite the gulf between their respective reputations, I do think their work has a lot in common, at the end of the day: swirling washes of synth disrupted by screaming guitars, not to mention that shared interest in Midcentury rock and roll aesthetics.

Music: “It’s Not Me Talking”

These two acts would, of course, go their separate ways shortly after, and they ended up in completely opposite camps, with Nelson becoming a cult favourite with little crossover success, and A Flock of Seagulls going on to create what is, undoubtedly, one of the most iconic songs of the entire decade.

Music: “I Ran”

What does one even say about a song like “I Ran”? Over the years, it’s certainly gotten somewhat overplayed, but I can’t really hold that against it. It’s just a damn good song. Both ethereally menacing as well as catchy and rather accessible, “I Ran” takes the atmosphere suggested by “It’s Not Me Talking” and kicks it into another gear, with a harder-hitting hook and the introduction of that highly distinctive and of-the-moment echoing guitar effect. Some will hear it as little more than evidence that the song is hopelessly dated, but I’ve never thought of it as anything other than satisfying to listen to. If you ask me, I figure all art that exists is essentially “a product of its time”--nobody ever said Michelangelo Buonarroti’s David was a lousy sculpture, just because you can easily tell it was made during the Italian Renaissance. At any rate, I’d encourage everyone reading to go back and listen to it again, trying to maintain a little neutrality. I’d recommend the album cut of it, which is significantly longer than the single version, and features a rich intro that sets the scene before that famous guitar ever makes an appearance, which I think really adds to the experience. By some reckonings, A Flock of Seagulls are sometimes considered a “one-hit wonder,” but while they certainly are remembered chiefly for “I Ran,” this album’s other singles were moderately successful as well.

Music: “Space Age Love Song”

“Space Age Love Song” is perhaps the band’s second best-remembered single, and takes their sound in a markedly different direction than that of “I Ran.” “I Ran” won popular acclaim by finding a new home for the guitar, in the midst of a sea of synth, and pushed A Flock of Seagulls into a similar space as acts like the Cars and Duran Duran, who had enough mainstream rock sensibilities to sneak a lot of synthesiser usage onto American rock radio...much as one might sneak spinach into tomato sauce when feeding picky children. But I think “Space Age Love Song” is much more palatable to listeners of pop, synth- or otherwise. It’s softer in texture, and really almost dreamy, capturing the hazy, buoyant feeling of limerence as well as any pop song ever has. I’m tempted to compare it to another synth-driven classic, whose influence towers over this period in electronic music: the great Giorgio Moroder’s “I Feel Love.” Much like “I Feel Love,” “Space Age Love Song” combines simple, almost banal love lyrics with an evocative electronic soundscape, painting a picture of an enchanting, high-tech future where human feelings like love have remained comfortably recognizable across centuries or millennia. A similar theme of futuristic love pervades the album’s second single, “Modern Love Is Automatic.”

Music: “Modern Love Is Automatic”

While “Space Age Love Song” uses simplistic lyricism to portray the relatable universality of falling in love, “Modern Love Is Automatic” gives us the album’s most complex narrative. In a world where “young love’s forbidden,” we meet a pair of star-crossed lovers prevented from being together by some sort of dystopian authority. The male member of this union, introduced as the “cosmic man,” is apparently imprisoned for the crime of loving, but the text suggests that he may escape from this prison--or, perhaps, even be freed from it. The title, repeated quite frequently throughout the track, is perhaps the mantra of this anti-love society, a piece of propaganda being drilled into us as thoroughly as it is into these subjects: Modern love is automatic, with no need for messy, unpredictable human input.

It’s also worth noting that the song is consciously set in “old Japan,” deliberately locating it in the “exotic” East. While East Asia was strongly associated with refined, perhaps futuristic culture, I can’t help but think there’s a more pejorative sentiment operating here, rooted in stereotypes of Asian cultures unduly policing sexual freedom, and other forms of personal expression and self-determination. Ultimately, despite its futuristic trappings, “Modern Love Is Automatic” isn’t really a song about technology at all, but rather authoritarianism. “Telecommunication,” on the other hand, engages more directly with that theme.

Music: “Telecommunication”

“Telecommunication” was also released prior to the self-titled album proper, and was also produced by Bill Nelson. While structurally similar to “Modern Love Is Automatic,” with an oft-repeated title, brief verses, and a generally repetitive musical structure full of meandering guitar, its text quite plainly discusses the titular field of technology, in a seemingly non-judgmental fashion--though it could be argued that the fairly upbeat music suggests a positive outlook on things like radio and TV. The one hitch in all of it is the very end of the last verse, which sets the song in the “nuclear age”--a nod, perhaps, to the darker applications of 20th Century technology. “Telecommunication” is perhaps indebted less to figures like Moroder, and moreso to Kraftwerk, who first solidified the rich tradition of stoic synth thumpers about everyday machines like cars, trains, and, of course, nuclear energy. I’m also tempted to compare it to an earlier work of Bill Nelson’s group Be-Bop Deluxe, “Electrical Language,” another bubbly number that playfully bats this concept back and forth.

The theme of “quotidian technology” is also present on the cover of this album, which features an interior shot of a living room, centered around a television set. The TV displays a figure playing guitar--perhaps one of those heroic rock pioneers of the Midcentury like Buddy Holly, whom Nelson was so keen to imitate. But what’s most immediately striking about this cover is its beautiful colour palette, full of deep, saturated jewel tones, treated softly with an “airbrush” style effect. Despite being a somewhat mundane scene, the image also features fanciful, imaginative touches: the floor of this room is actually a miniature beach landscape, with the “floor” beneath the TV actually being the surface of the ocean, and the TV appears to be surrounded by a colourful, glowing group of birds. Given the beachy surroundings, we could perhaps interpret them as the titular seagulls. It’s tempting to think of this scene as a representation of how technology can sweep us away, out of our everyday existence and into something richer and more exciting.

But perhaps it’s not so simple--note also the open window in the top left, whose curtain appears to be agitated by some sort of motion in the air. Perhaps these birds are not the products of television fantasy, but rather have flown in from the window, and hence hail from the “real world?” Given how tracks like “Space Age Love Song” and “Modern Love Is Automatic” tackle the theme of the mundane meeting the fantastical, I think this complex and arresting image is a great fit for the album.

While their self-titled debut spawned multiple recognizable hits, A Flock of Seagulls never came anywhere close to recapturing its success. For the most part, they struggled to remain relevant as time wore on, largely abandoning the sonic footprint of their first album, and chasing after new trends in music technology such as digital synthesisers. They would eventually break up during the mid-1980s, and though they’ve reunited in order to perform live several times, the book is probably closed on A Flock of Seagulls. Personally, I can’t help but wonder what might have been if they had stuck to their musical roots a bit more. You get a bit of that on their third LP, 1984’s The Story of a Young Heart, which thankfully brings back that iconic echoing guitar, and does so without sounding too much like a simple retread of “I Ran.” Out of all their other work, it’s the album I would most recommend to admirers of this debut LP.

Music: “Remember David”

My favourite track on A Flock of Seagulls’ debut LP is “Messages”--not to be confused with the track of the same name by Orchestral Manoeuvres in the Dark! Moreso than anything else on the album, “Messages” has this aggressive, insistent, driving quality, and feels less like yacht rock, and more like punk rock. Despite not being released as a single, I think it’s a very strong track that’s quite easy to get into. That’s everything for today--thanks for listening!

Music: “Messages”

#music #album review #album reviews #great albums #a flock of seagulls #flock of seagulls

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write-your-story-among-the-stars · 3 years

Text

blackinnon fluff instead of studying-

___________________________________

There was a girl beside him. She had the softest blonde hair, the deepest blue eyes and he loved her. She leaned against his shoulder soaking up his warmth and he felt like the luckiest man in the world. This gorgeous star had bestowed her grace upon him and he didn’t know what he’d done to deserve it. She hummed softly and he smiled the smallest of smiles. It was just perfect. He could stay like this forever. She shifted and his heart stopped. Was she leaving? Would his heart be broken that easily? Only she leaned in, closing the inch of distance between them. Bringing her lips-

“Oi! Oi Sirius!”

“Yeah?”, he blinked.

“Where’d you fly off to?”

“Eh? Nowhere, don’t be daft Prongs”

James shrugged and went back to wolfing down his meal. Sirius didn’t know what just happened. But it couldn’t be anything good. He heard the clicking of heels down the halls and stood up quickly which raised a few brows. He had to leave. He had to leave now. If he saw Marlene right about now, he might actually die.

“Sirius… you okay?” inquired Moony, incredibly concerned.

“Yeah, don’t worry. Just going out for some fresh air”

“Be right back” and he rushed out of the room just as the woman he dreamed about entered.

“Sirius love you alright? You look like you’ve seen a ghost” came Marlene’s honeyed voice

“Of course, I’m alright. Why wouldn’t I be? I have to go”

“I..” she began to speak but he was already gone.

____________________________________

Sirius was losing his mind. That was the only reasonable explanation. Why else would he be dreaming about being in loveespecially with Marlene McKinnon? This wasn’t normal and he didn’t know what to do. He banged his head against his knees letting out a terrifying groan.

“Oh God. Sirius are you okay?” snuck up Lily

“You know what, No. I’m not okay and I’m thinking something I shouldn’t be thinking at all because it would ruin everything” he panicked

“Ok love, calm down” Lily comforted, “Let’s take this one step at a time”

“Start from the beginning”

“I had a daydream. There was this girl and- and she was in my arms and I was hugging her. You know I’m not a hugger especially with girls, I’m a womanizer you know it.”

Lily gave him a worried look but he powered on.

“And well, I was in love with this girl and I was incredibly happy and then she was leaning in to kiss me when your oaf of a boyfriend shook me out of it”

Lily held back an eye roll at James’ idiocy and said,

“Did you see what she looked like?”

Sirius wouldn’t meet her eyes, looking anywhere but at her. Her stomach sank, assuming the worst.

“Sirius I-

“No, Lily it wasn’t you don’t worry. Not that you’re not jaw droppingly gorgeous but you’re more my sister”

“Oh, thank God. I didn’t want to break your heart”

“Bahahaha- well good then”

“Who is it? I know you know so just come right out and say it”

“I- well… she was blonde” he said, messing up his hair because he knew Lily was smart enough to connect the dots.

“OH GODS. SIRIUS ORION BLACK YOU’RE IN LOVE WITH MARLENE”

“Say it a little louder why don’t you”

“Sirius this is wonderful. Oh, you would be adorable together. Oh, you have to tell her”

“Excuse me???”

“What…”

“She can’t know, she’ll hate me forever”

“Sirius that is not true- “

“Yes, it is end of discussion. I’m not saying anything and neither are you. Especially to James or Marlene. You have to promise me”

“I- of course but just for the record I think you’re wrong.”

“Darling, even if I was wrong and she did like me that way. Your boyfriend, my best mate also known as the man who’s practically her brother would slaughter me if he knew what was going on in my head”

“I know him Sirius and he’d be thrilled for you. It’s not often you feel like this you know”

“Agree to disagree”, he shrugged.

“Fine, I have DADA. I’ll see you later”

“See ya”

____________________________________

Lily couldn’t believe how ridiculous Sirius was being. How could he not know how Marlene felt?

How exactly did he miss all the times she stared at him with so much desire on her face, when she thought no one was looking? Marlene McKinnon was smitten and there was no questioning it.

She couldn’t take it any longer. She had to talk to Marlene. She wouldn’t betray Sirius of course not. She’d just get Marlene to confess. She was already acing Defence. Cutting one class wouldn’t kill her.

And so, Lily Evans began her search for her best friend, ready to play matchmaker for two people she loved incredibly much. As she searched through the halls someone ran up and hugged her from behind. She froze instantly thinking it was Mulciber, only relaxing when she saw well-manicured hands and incredibly tanned arms.

“Ms. McKinnon you nearly gave me a heart attack”

“I’m sorry but I needed a hug”

“Hon, what’s wrong?”

“Sirius…”

Lily nearly squealed

“Oh? What happened?” trying and failing to be as nonchalant as possible

“Nothing- Wait why are you looking at me like that?”

“Like what” Lily said, feigning innocence

“Like you know some things I don’t and that I would appreciate knowing”

“Oh you have no idea”

Marlene began to speak but she cut her off,

“I can’t. I’d be breaking a promise, even if it was for a good cause”

“Uhuh…” Marlene was suspicious and that wasn’t good. At all.

“Okay come on I need to talk to you somewhere private”

She took her friend’s hand and dragged her to the dorms.

“Alright just answer me. No games.”

Marlene just stared at her, mouth slightly open, confused to say the least.

“Do you like Sirius Black?”

“What???!! No of course not” she tried for disgust but failed. Epically.

“Right. I definitely asked the wrong question”

“Do you, Marlene Leigh McKinnon, love Sirius Orion Black?”

Marlene was silent and she had her answer.

“OH, GODS MARLENE THIS IS AMAZING”

“Hush!! Someone will hear you”

“Marlene this is wonderful. You need to tell him”

“WHAT??!! Are you insane? Why would I tell an absolutely hot womanizer that I’m in love with him? I love him too much and I couldn’t bear just a shag and for it to be done.”

“Oh, trust me. That is definitely not what would happen. Trust me”

“Lil, you know I love you but how the fuck do I just go up to him and just tell him that I love him when we haven’t even everthought about going out- at least not me, not before now.”

“Marlene please listen to me. Do it. Tell him. Don’t do it randomly. Sit him down, talk, be you and then you tell him. I promise it’ll be worth it.”

“Lily, I- I can’t”

“Yes, you can and trust me when I say you’ll love what happens after”

“Why don’t you just tell me?”

“Because I want you to see for yourself”

“Ugh, how long have you known by the way?”

“Too long”

“And you never said anything?”

“It wasn’t my place but it is now because I know something good”

“Ok ok, you don’t have to sell me any longer I said I’d do it”

____________________________________

Sirius let out a smoke ring as Remus finished his Arithmancy paper. Remus looked up at the ring, his mind turning. Sirius only made rings when he was really truly pre-occupied and he had a feeling he knew what was on his mate’s mind.

“Hey Sirius?” he said closing his books.

“Hmm”

“I have a question”

“Fire away”

“What would you do if Marlene McKinnon came in through that door and told you she loved you?”

“I- what? Why are you asking that? What did Lily tell you?”

“Aha! Suspicions confirmed”

“Fuck, you know”

“It’s clear as day anytime she’s in the same bloody room as you. And this morning? When you nearly had a panic attack when she called you ‘love’ and you ran out like a dog was chasing you? Kinda hard to miss the signs man. Don’t know how she hasn’t seen it yet, being the smartest witch our age”

“Fuck fuck fuck. Does James know?”

“No, he’s blind as a bat that one” Remus snorted

“Mate you can’t tell anyone. Least of all James, he’ll pummel me into the ground”

“I won’t, don’t worry. But just for the record, she loves you too”

“Yeah right. How could she love someone like me? I’m a Black and a disowned one at that and not to mention, I’m also a complete fucking mess”

“Mate you have no idea”, he stood up going to stretch his legs.

“Where the fuck do you think you’re going??”

“A walk” he shrugged.

“I- after you just did that you’re going for a bloody walk”

“I didn’t do anything. Besides you need to be alone with your thoughts for a while.”

Sirius gave up and fell back.

The door clicked as Remus went out and he was all alone. Or so he thought. Because at that very moment Marlene McKinnon was climbing down the stairs when she saw him and froze in place. Staring at him and him doing the same.

____________________________________

“Uh- hi” attempted Marlene

“Heyyy, what’re you doing up here?”

“Cutting Defence because it’s a pain in the ass”

Sirius chuckled and the hair on her neck rose. How could one man be so attractive that Marlene felt she couldn’t breathe if she looked at him any longer? This was her moment, she knew it, but looking at him, in all his rebellious glory. She couldn’t. So, she tried to run but Sirius grabbed on.

“Marl, do you mind if I talk to you for a second?”

Her heart pounded so fast it was a wonder he couldn’t hear it. She nodded and followed him to the fireplace. It was one of her favourite places, always giving her a sense of peace when she couldn’t breathe but not right now. All she could think of was that Sirius had never been that serious (yes, she saw the pun, no, she didn’t give a fuck).

“Everything ok?”

“Yeah- well… no”

Marlene was practically shaking. This was too much. This was too intimate. She would crumble and have her heart broken if she didn’t leave but no matter how much she wanted to her body wouldn’t listen, forcing her to sit in her panic.

“Marl I have to tell you something and you have to promise not to kill me once you hear it”

Marlene swallowed,

“I’ll try not to”

“I love you”

Her world stopped. This couldn’t really be happening. She was just having a dream that seemed very very real.

“Marlene for Merlin’s sake say something or I’m gonna go mad over here”

She turned suddenly, crashing her lips onto his. All her words going into the movement of her tongue against his. It was fire. It was oblivion. It was Armageddon. It was everything she had dreamed it to be. They sunk right into the kiss. Years of desire and yearning coming out in a single moment. They were the only two people in the world and each other’s lips was the only thing that mattered. They broke apart. Gasping for air.

Marlene looked at Sirius and pinched her arm.

“You’re not dreaming, you know,” he smiled

“I had to check. You truly love me?”

“Truly, madly, deeply I’m afraid”

“You know I love you, too right?”

“I do now”

“Sirius, I love you so much. You need to know. There aren’t enough words in the world to describe how I feel about you”

Sirius bowed his head, hiding the tears in his eyes that inched down his face. She lifted his face and brought her lips to his. Slow, soft, full of the pure tender love she had for him. She pulled away, whispering

“You’re my eternal star”

He grabbed onto her and kissed her like it was the last kiss of his life. They were a flame together and they would never stop burning. He pulled away, their faces touching and there she was. His Marlene.

His sea.

He kissed her head as she held onto him, silently swearing never to let go.

“This doesn’t feel real”

“I know love”

“How long?”

“One minute in on the Express”

“NO, really?” she would die of shock today

“Really”

“It’s always been you Marl”

She held back her tears, leaning up, catching his lips with hers. They were locked onto each other when they heard it. Sniffles and barely held back sobs. They pulled back and saw James hugging Lily as they looked at the two stars.

“So? Is this happening?”

“Yeah”

“Yeah, it is”

Sirius and Marlene looked at each other. Knowing the other was theirs and crashed together again as James, Lily and god knows who cheered on.

#sirius x marlene #blackinnon #marauders #sirius black #marlene mckinnon #otp things #fanfic #marauders fanfiction #marauders fluff #marauders era #marauders fic #sirius orion black

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