guys when will i stop having new thoughts about young royals (2021-2024)… everyday i wake up with new thoughts about young royals (2021-2024)… when will i hit the thought quota about young royals (2021-2024)….
the heartbreak high series finale having a young royals last scene rip off but for straight people with the same white car about to go on a road trip stopping for a running make out scene…. everyone wants to be wilmon but you will never be them
I've alluded to the beautiful vacations tattoo wilmon take decades in the future and finally started writing one. Enjoy xx
Simon felt the moment Wille slipped into sleep, his head lulling suddenly heavier on Simon's shoulder.
He slowed the movements of his fingers where they were playing up and down the inside of Wille's thigh, keeping the comforting motion without risking waking him up.
The people they'd sat next to at dinner, and struck up merry conversation with for the past two hours, continued laughing and chatting. Someone handed Simon a freshly rolled cigarette.
"Light it for me?" he asked, and the girl looked at Wille with warmth, sparking the light close to Simon's face so he could inhale without disturbing his baby.
"Thanks," he mumbled around the filter, pulling it out of his mouth and gesturing, chiming back into the discussion. The wine seemed to refill itself, the waiters having brought over a few leftover, half full bottles as the night wound down.
Plates were cleared ages ago. Simon was stuffed full from the endless rounds of tapas. It was Spanish food with Italian influence, all fresh from the sea and rich with salty brine, olives and anchovies that seemed they might wiggle off their toothpick kebabs, patatas bravas and bacon-wrapped dates and pasta with fresh green herbs and bright red tomatoes and clams and scallops, all served with wine and wine and more wine. The bitter dark liquid slid down his throat in small, delicious swallows until his laughs turned silly and giggly and his whole body felt flush with the heat of a summer evening.
Wille's fingers were wrapped around his forearm, squeezing suddenly in a gentle, sleepy twitch. Simon turned and pressed his lips to Wille's soft hair. It was lighter than he'd ever seen it, streaked with gold from so many long days in the sun.
String lights lit the space in front of the restaurant where patrons sat as the waiters stacked chairs and mopped the inside of the restaurant, readying to close up for the night.
Their new friends were lovely, but Simon wanted to be close to Wille, wanted to be alone with him, wanted him naked and pliant and drunk and willing to let Simon do anything, half-lidded, brown eyes and parted pink lips. He checked his watch—after midnight, almost four hours since they arrived and started eating.
He ashed his cigarette, dropping it in the tray carefully.
"Hey," he whispered, scratching inside Wille's knee a little more noticeably. "Baby," he said.
He kissed Wille's head again, felt him stir and snuffle.
He squeezed his thigh.
"Let's get home, yeah?" he asked. Wille made an incoherent sort of sound into his shoulder and Simon kissed his head again, bringing his hand to Wille's chin and tilting his head to kiss his sleepy, open lips.
"Let's go home," he said. Wille nodded helplessly, blinking a few times as his eyes focused on Simon.
"Yeah," he said groggily, then cleared his throat, yawned, and nodded again. He knocked his head onto Simon's shoulder, bit the big round ball of it. "Let's go home."
They'd been at their airbnb for just over a week, and it really was starting to feel like home. They had food in the kitchen and clothes in the closet, swim trunks hanging from the hooks in the bathroom, more clothes scattered on the bedroom floor.
"Do we need to pay?" Wille asked, sitting up properly and letting out another yawn.
"Already did," Simon replied, and Wille leaned in and kissed him.
"Thank you," he mumbled. Simon smiled at him softly, stroked his cheek with a thumb. Wille's lips turned up, face shifting into the helplessly happy expression he got almost every time he was touched.
Simon pulled away, keeping his hand inside Wille's knee possessively.
"I think we're gonna head out guys, it was so nice to meet you all," he said.
the vampire lestat is a season of television where nothing happens and no one changes. incredibly self conscious writing choices that all serve to diminish the compelling character arcs of the first two seasons. even when there is meant to be catharsis, they can’t commit to the depth of what the characters are shown going through on screen and only value shock and cheap aesthetics. the characters all speak in a ironic tone lacking any sincerity even as they supposedly self reflect on their emotional woundings (to no gratifying end).
the politics of a vampire revolution that leads to genocide is barely even brushed upon, and the main characters are somehow the leading causes of the destruction without any motivation or vested interest at all. BAD!!!!!!! SO BAD!!!! i cant even track what each character thought about the great conversion retroactively.
don’t get me started on the fact that there is ZERO queer intimacy that isn’t for shock value. genuinely homophobic and transphobic as hell. the racism of the season also seems to be the point? louis and claudia’s pain is both exploited and mocked. horrific on like 12 different levels.
the gabriella of it all. absolutely terrible prioritization of screen time where the writers seem to think salacious shocking intimacy is more interesting than the impact it has on their main character they are supposedly trying to showcase. a complete waste of narrative space for something executed so poorly.
snowghoul
areudirty
dailybridgerton
pixelskylines
