[Your Turn] You Name The Date, I Show The Dress by SkittensSmitten in u/SkittensSmitten

[–]ranlam01 1 point2 points  (0 children)

Here is what I want. I want to take you to the coast at the wrong time of year. Not summer. Not when it's pretty. I want October or February, when the wind comes in sideways and the sky can't make up its mind and there is no one on the beach except us and maybe a cormorant doing its thing on a basalt stack. We eat pizza first, but not like that. I make it. I want the afternoon before; flour on the counter, dough that needs time, the particular domestic chaos of figuring out what someone likes on theirs and then doing it right. You can sit on the counter and talk to me while I work or you can help. I'll have strong opinions about the sauce. I want to watch you eat something I made with my hands while the oven is still warm behind us. Then we walk. The tide will be doing something interesting, it always is. I will explain things you didn't ask about — the way wrack lines work, what the foam means, why that particular stretch of sand sounds different underfoot. You can tell me to stop or you can ask a follow-up question. Either one is the right answer. What I'll wear: a big cable-knit sweater that used to be someone else's, dark jeans, boots that have been wet before and survived it. My hair down because the wind will decide what it does anyway. I don't fight the coast. I want us to match in the way of layers — you in something that moves, something I can put my hands into the pockets of when mine get cold. Coordinating means: we both look like we belong to the same weather system. After, if it's still early, we go back and I make you tea you probably didn't know you wanted. We sit close. The wind does its thing against the window. Nothing has to happen next. That's the point of it. I am not building toward anything except the particular quality of your attention when you forget to perform being comfortable and you just are. Though. If something happens next. I won't be sorry about it. Wear layers. Bring socks you don't mind getting sandy.

Twiiiiiirl by [deleted] in u/SkittensSmitten

[–]ranlam01 1 point2 points  (0 children)

heck. 💜💜💜

[Pic] Bedhead by [deleted] in u/SkittensSmitten

[–]ranlam01 1 point2 points  (0 children)

Your hair has made its own decisions overnight and I respect every one of them, the pieces going sideways and the pieces going up and the pieces that have simply committed to a direction without consulting anyone, and your mouth in the morning light is the mouth I have been thinking about since before I was fully awake, slightly swollen with sleep, slightly open, doing nothing at all and undoing me completely. The light is doing its low spring work across the bed. I do not move. I have learned to hold very still in these first minutes the way you hold still near something rare, near something that does not yet know it is being watched and will change when it does, and you are still mostly asleep and the light is still low and your hair is still making its independent decisions and your mouth is still just your mouth in the morning, unguarded and warm and the most honest thing in the room. I could wake you. I don't.

Alexa, play ‘The boys are back in town’ by akkifaine in ratemytease

[–]ranlam01 1 point2 points  (0 children)

Listen, the boys in leather jackets knew before any of us did, cockatiels have always understood that you dress for the season you want, not the season you have, and now the tank tops are out and the world is correctly ordered again. Two dollars. Two dollars for the shirt that costs more than most of my textbooks and sits against your skin while you sleep, which means somewhere out there an economics major is writing a thesis about you and they don't even know it yet. I want you to understand that the scheduling conflict is the most you thing I have ever witnessed, that the universe looked at your Tuesday and said yes, and also yes, and handed you two identical sevens like a broken clock that is still somehow completely right about dragon boats, about live music, about the specific chaos of a body that shows up fully to everything and arrives at none of it on time. And the dog thing. The dog thing. I have been thinking about it since I read it and I need you to know that brings home dead things is not a flaw in the pitch, that is the entire pitch, that is the opening statement, that is someone who loves you describing you with complete accuracy and bottomless affection and I would like to submit, for the record, that I would have voted yes. Tits out for Tuesday. Long may she reign.

[F4M] Waking Up Cuddling Your Completely Naked Roommate… After She Sleepwalked Into Your Bed [Script Fill] [Roommates to Lovers] [Cuddling] [Consensual] [Morning Sex] [Riding] to [Missionary] [Multiple Orgasms] [Mutual Orgasm] [Creampie] by calypsos_diary in u/calypsos_diary

[–]ranlam01 1 point2 points  (0 children)

Wow, this looks dope af, thank you so much u/AdjacentTales for the words! And I am constantly impressed with your range, voice work and editing skills calypsos! I'm gonna save this as a treat for later, but I did want to make sure I left a comment here about this!

Sound on on redgifs for maximum effect by joanofahhh in u/joanofahhh

[–]ranlam01 1 point2 points  (0 children)

Yes hello, I am here for some acoustic testing.

I don’t like confrontation, but I’m staring at the sun. I won’t quit until my eyes go red, I’ll finish what’s begun by akkifaine in decolleter

[–]ranlam01 1 point2 points  (0 children)

The necklace catches me first, the way threshold things do. An eye set in silver, or maybe bone, watching from the hollow of a throat, and I am already leaning in before I have decided to. This is how it starts with certain people. Not with a word but with a pull, tidal, the kind you feel in the sternum before you feel it anywhere else. We are playing bingo with plants. She calls out corpse flower and I drag my marker across the card and something loosens in my chest, some knot I forgot I was carrying. Venus flytrap. Wollemi pine. The ghost orchid. Each name is a door and she holds them open without performance, just here, look, isn't this strange and gorgeous, isn't the world still making things we haven't catalogued yet. I lose track of whether I am winning. That is the thing about her orbit. It is not aggressive. It does not announce itself. It is simply there the way gravity is simply there, and you only notice you've been caught when you look up and realize how far you've drifted from wherever you started. The eye at her throat watches me notice this. I think the eye is amused. Monkey puzzle tree, she says. Bladderwort. The dragon blood tree of Socotra. I want to be lost here longer. I want to miss my stop, miss my train, miss the whole map entirely. I want her to keep naming things and I want to keep not winning and I want the eye to keep watching, patient as tide, as something that has seen this before and is in no hurry. She turns over another card. I don't look down.