strikerbacks
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"It's a public place, Jaskier," he says. "Anyone could see."
"First of all, as you've noted several times over the course of our journey, your only company for days has been me. You would prefer it to be no one at all, but all the same— only me. You're welcome, by the way. Have you heard what they say about gift horses and their mouths? Never mind, there's another mouth you'll soon become very well-acquainted with."
The face Geralt makes when he looks like he wishes one or both of them could die on the spot is devastatingly handsome.
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"Yer hands are filthy." He spits right there on the floor, watches it bubble. "Don't want that in my mouth."
When he does look up, he expects Thomas to launch into another tirade, lay one more curse upon him. Instead he only laughs, scratchy and wheezing. "That so? I got bad news about the rest of me, boy."
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and yet the notes recur by strikerbacks for renaissance
Fandoms: Dead Poets Society (1989)
25 Dec 2019
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It's easy to watch Todd, he realizes, because they're both watching Neil.
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i cherish with fondness the day (before) i met you by strikerbacks for myconstant
Fandoms: Club de Cuervos (TV)
23 Dec 2015
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He’s seen Aitor Cardoné on enough billboards, spread across enough magazines, writhing around his television screen in enough commercials, but it doesn’t hit until he sees him in person. He’s beautiful. Inhumanely, otherworldly beautiful. The kind of beauty that’s too perfect, that’s intimidating and frightening and draws you in like quicksand. Even with his hair in stupid little braids, even when he looks bored to death with all of them, even — god, fuck, especially when he’s got an all-over sheen of sweat after training.
Aitor is beautiful, and as with everything else Potro finds beautiful, he’s immediately obsessed.
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Memories gather dust in various places.
On the top shelf of Neil's hall closet, tucked back behind a forest green blanket. In Knox's attic, where the kids can't reach. The bookshelves of Todd's office, displayed but never really seen. In Charlie's bedroom, two cigar boxes under his bed. Yearbooks, letters, photographs, drawings, scraps of poetry, and a thousand and one promises begging to be reopened.
Recent bookmarks
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“Is there something you’d like to see?” he asks, breathlessly teasing.
“Yes,” Wordie says, unable to lie to him, to hold false pretenses. It’s wonderfully freeing.
- Language:
- English
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- 2,416
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- 1/1
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Bookmarked by strikerbacks
15 Jul 2023
Bookmarker's Notes
Wordie thought it would feel more so, truly. Instead, he feels rapturous, glorious. Intensely erotic, to be sure, but something about this moment feels perfectly holy.
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In the depths of winter, 1915, Wordie pushes aside the curtain to the Billabong and sees Hussey and Macklin sharing a kiss.
Bookmarked by strikerbacks
15 Jul 2023
Bookmarker's Notes
Macklin is in it, reclining, writing in his diary. And there, curled against him, beneath Macklin’s blanket, is Hussey. He isn’t even looking at Wordie now. He’s got his face pressed into Macklin’s ribs, a smile playing at the corner of his mouth, his eyes closed. His hair, growing in again now since they all shaved their heads in May, is tousled and sticking up at odd angles. Beneath the blanket, Wordie can tell he has one leg hitched up over Macklin’s waist. He looks very comfortable, and very pleased with himself.
“Ah,” Macklin says. “Jock.”
Immediately, Hussey’s head snaps up, his eyes wide. “Oh, fuck,” he says.
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“Did you need the table?” Hussey asks, glancing at the paper in Wordie’s hands.
Wordie clutches it tighter. “No, I. Wanted to speak with you.”
Hussey feels so startled he thinks his heart skips a beat. “With me?”
“Yes,” Wordie says. The lighting is poor, but Hussey thinks his ears are very red.
“Oh. Well, I’m…rather in the bath.”
Bookmarked by strikerbacks
15 Jul 2023
Bookmarker's Notes
Wordie sighs, and consults his sheet of paper, turning it to the lamp briefly to read what’s written there. “I really…desperately wish you weren’t in the bath.”
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200 words. For Coldboy Rarepair Week 2023.
- Language:
- English
- Words:
- 200
- Chapters:
- 1/1
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- 1
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- 6
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- 14
- Bookmarks:
- 1
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- 65
Bookmarked by strikerbacks
15 Jul 2023
Bookmarker's Notes
Scattered bones under an indifferent white sky. Think of something else.
Nils, his face half-covered by rocks. No, something else.
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God, but he’s lovely.
Bookmarked by strikerbacks
14 Jul 2023
Bookmarker's Notes
He tips Hussey’s face up towards him, and bends until their lips just barely touch. He feels Hussey’s shaky exhale, and whispers, “I missed you.”
“Oh,” Hussey says, his voice very small.