fancycoatpossum reblogged
fancycoatpossum reblogged
musings on oranges
Alessia Di Cesare, Romero Barros, Wendy Cope, David Stevenson, Rebecca O’Connor, Andrea Kantrowitz, Nina LaCour, Augustin Rouart, Ocean Vuong, Chris Krupinski, Wendy Cope, Mickie Acierno, Jacques Prévert, Robert Spear Dunning, Wendy Cope
fancycoatpossum reblogged
fancycoatpossum reblogged
I was looking at seagull stickers for my instagram story and I came across seagulls saying supportive things like "You matter! <3" and that's the first time I've gone "He would not fucking say that" over an animal. These birds are fueled by spite. They would yell slurs if they could. Not even the right ones. A seagull would call an old lady a faggot they don't care
fancycoatpossum reblogged
Yarrow lets himself be tugged, but he tugs himself away after just one kiss so that he can say: “Well the fukken smartest shit I done was get with you,” which then requires hiding in additional kisses
“Yarrow – ”
Sam kisses Yarrow hard, like he’s going to press his way into Yarrow’s chest. “Lucky for me you did, dearest,” he says. “I’m so lucky to have you – ”
Being married has made Yarrow into an unbelievable sap, who is capable of just up and saying things about soft warm feelings and shit, and who – in the first place!! – has soft warm feelings and shit without always instinctively stomping on them (deflecting is different! that's just about it being embarrassing for Sam to notice, not embarrassing for Yarrow to feel!). This one isn't really soft per se but it is very warm: Yarrow wants to live up to Sam's opinion of him so fukken much.
"I love you," he says, wide-eyed and too-serious for a moment before he continues: "You gotta switch with me n get in the chair so I can get down n suck ya dick —"
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That sounds enough like a challenge for Yarrow’s instincts to always double down to overpower the red-eared breathlessness in action, even if he remains just as red-eared and breathless in practice. “I mean, we got time - ”
“I thought we had to sleep!” Sam says, laughing. He flops down into the pillows next to Yarrow, turning to grin at him, confident (…mostly) that Yarrow is joking. “I mean, I suppose so long as you don’t mind doing all the work – ”
Yarrow goes "Ah pfff," play-derisive and relieved for what he thinks might be a safely joking out so it can safely stay a joke. "'f ya gonna be like that about it I'll give ya a rain check. Ya right, we gotta get some fukken sleep at some point, yanno, n doin that fukken pillow princess shit right ain't fukken quick."
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Yarrow’s left Sam with the blanket, so his hands are free, and they reach out quite naturally to catch Sam’s arms and make sure he don’t fall down or nothing, grinning and glad over nothing. “Made it!”
Any victory is worth celebrating at this point. They just got to keep going!
Sam’s only got one hand with which to cling to Yarrow, still laughing. The relief of sunlight and movement makes this morning feel distant, although he is sure it won’t stay that way.
In the meantime, he shoves into Yarrow a little, rocking them both back and forth. “Thank you, darlin,” he says, the endearment falling out of his mouth before he can think to do otherwise
If Yarrow still rates being called darlin by Sam after all the stupid words he's said and terrible ways he's behaved, there might be redemption for anybody in this world, and he dare not look at it lest it disappear the way the stars do through mackerel clouds.
"Tha's a'right," he says vapidly, squeezing Sam for a moment before letting go and swinging around so they're both facing forward and – he dares it, buoyed by the moment – holding hands; "let's get on then, dove — "
fancycoatpossum reblogged
Tourlitis Lighthouse | Andros, Greece
Source: atlasobscura.com
fancycoatpossum reblogged
fancycoatpossum reblogged
“Oh yeah?” says Yarrow. “Fukken prove it, pillow boy,” and he kisses Sam quick but hard before aggressively cuddling him into the bed to be a better pillow or something
“You’re letting me sleep over, aren’t you?” Sam says, even if that’s partially for of other, less pleasant reasons. “And you’ve really been awfully nice to me since I got here. And – here, c’mere – ”
He pries Yarrow off of him long enough to kiss him, one hand cupping Yarrow’s face, as sweet as he can. “There,” he says, fighting boldly through the feeling of his own face heating up.
Yarrow is momentarily undone, and he’s terribly aware of how ridiculous AND predictable that is, and still this onslaught of nice accusations and the killing blow of a gentle-ass face-touchin’ kiss gets him red-eared and breathless and blinking at Sam. “Fuck you,” he says unconvincingly.
Sam fights his way through his own bright-eyed red-faced embarrassed pleasure to say, “what, right now?”
That sounds enough like a challenge for Yarrow's instincts to always double down to overpower the red-eared breathlessness in action, even if he remains just as red-eared and breathless in practice. "I mean, we got time - "
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Yarrow hums a little and kisses Sam’s neck like it’s his idle animation. “Aw man, that means I can’t suck ya dick, though,” he says, dismayed
Sam laughs. “I mean, we could get up a little, I suppose – ”
“And/or,” Yarrow says, a brilliant realization out of a genius mouth, eyes bright, “you stay put n I get down on the floor”
“You’re so clever, beloved,” Sam tells him, tugging at Yarrow to come out enough Sam can kiss him.
Yarrow lets himself be tugged, but he tugs himself away after just one kiss so that he can say: "Well the fukken smartest shit I done was get with you," which then requires hiding in additional kisses
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“‘Less you run faster'n I,” Yarrow laughs, with the same boastful challenge as if he’d claimed he would be the faster one himself, for he deems this delivery to be funny. “On three? One, twa, three - ”
It is fun and silly to run pell-mell out of the rain and toward the sunny patch, and it is a great strange relief to be running after all that emotion - Yarrow rushes merrily through the underbrush and half-crashes into a sunlit tree with burs stuck to his leggings, spins himself around the trunk with one hand so he can come around and face Sam as if they’ve won some tiny victory by getting here.
It takes Sam a moment to fold the blanket in on itself so the wet (well, wetter, at least) side is facing inwards, and then he throws himself after Yarrow.
It feels good to be moving and it feels good to stretch his legs properly after – after all of that. Even the wet leaves he’s running through feel good after all of this.
He’s nearly caught up by the time Yarrow stops and nearly has to sit down to avoid running straight into him. “Oh!” he says in surprise, then laughs – less because anything is funny, and more because it’s so nice to be out here and for it to be not raining?
Yarrow's left Sam with the blanket, so his hands are free, and they reach out quite naturally to catch Sam's arms and make sure he don't fall down or nothing, grinning and glad over nothing. "Made it!"
Any victory is worth celebrating at this point. They just got to keep going!
fancycoatpossum reblogged
“Oh yeah?” says Yarrow. “Fukken prove it, pillow boy,” and he kisses Sam quick but hard before aggressively cuddling him into the bed to be a better pillow or something
“You’re letting me sleep over, aren’t you?” Sam says, even if that’s partially for of other, less pleasant reasons. “And you’ve really been awfully nice to me since I got here. And – here, c’mere – ”
He pries Yarrow off of him long enough to kiss him, one hand cupping Yarrow’s face, as sweet as he can. “There,” he says, fighting boldly through the feeling of his own face heating up.
Yarrow is momentarily undone, and he's terribly aware of how ridiculous AND predictable that is, and still this onslaught of nice accusations and the killing blow of a gentle-ass face-touchin' kiss gets him red-eared and breathless and blinking at Sam. "Fuck you," he says unconvincingly.
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“The fuckin cotton candy thing must be why I wake up wantin'a eat you,” Yarrow leers laughingly. “Ya sweet enough anyways”
“You’re sweet, darlin,” Sam says, half accusatory and half laughing, even as his traitorous face heats up.
"Oh yeah?" says Yarrow. "Fukken prove it, pillow boy," and he kisses Sam quick but hard before aggressively cuddling him into the bed to be a better pillow or something
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Yarrow, too, has to roll his shoulders and stretch a little, but just moving at all seems to make him feel better in a way he’s not consciously aware of. “Yeh,” he grins at Sam, and ends up rising to help hold the blanket up with his own back as they get it unrigged.
At last they (mostly Sam, having been in charge of that the whole while) are left holding the blanket above them with their hands. “Awright, one of us can carry it and t'other'n can run fast - we can both run fast, but still, one of us carries ‘e blanket - ”
“I’ll take the blanket,” Sam says, glancing around to make sure there’s nothing that’s been left behind by mistake. “…Wait, here – ”
He’s got to duck down for a moment to get his own pack on, then straightens back up again. “Alright,” he says, kneeling on one knee. “I’ll follow you?”
"'Less you run faster'n I," Yarrow laughs, with the same boastful challenge as if he'd claimed he would be the faster one himself, for he deems this delivery to be funny. "On three? One, twa, three - "
It is fun and silly to run pell-mell out of the rain and toward the sunny patch, and it is a great strange relief to be running after all that emotion - Yarrow rushes merrily through the underbrush and half-crashes into a sunlit tree with burs stuck to his leggings, spins himself around the trunk with one hand so he can come around and face Sam as if they've won some tiny victory by getting here.
fancycoatpossum reblogged
woke up today and realized that tumblr entirely killed fuck ya life bing bong so here ya go again