#country roads fic

[jamesunderwater]

hi!! could i please hear about your country roads wip? thank you :)

Hi Fyre!! ohhh I'm so excited to share about this one because my thoughts on it have changed recently. prepare for a lot of ramblings...

so it started out as this 70s vibes, roadtrip-across-America, queer found family type fic that had a trans Lily Evans run away from home and cross paths with the Black brothers, who were also trans teen runaways. the three ramble around the country collecting other queer companions and wind up in a small town in midwest America where the closeted James Potter works on his parent's farm.

I did start writing this and I like what I have so far, but a few months ago, I think I was listening to an audiobook or something about queer history, and I started thinking about the lesser-known experiences of AIDS. specifically for trans people, people of color, sex workers, bisexual people, and anyone essentially not living in a big city (or honestly anywhere that wasn't san fran, nyc, philly, or maybe chicago).

so yeah - I decided I wanted to turn it into a fic that was really endeavoring to honor those experiences. not just for representation, but to also witness how HIV/AIDS was not and is not a gay white man's disease, how there are in fact so many other identities that can be at risk for contracting HIV too, and how back then, no one really even knew who was "safe" and who wasn't. i also wanted to show what chosen family really meant in the context of that time.

So my plan is to workshop each of the characters again, and then see what the story turns into. it will still have the same general concept -- queer road trip, found family, etc., and hopefully start with Lily running away and end with them all coming to the Potter farm -- but will be set in the 80s and by that very nature will be heavily about HIV/AIDS. once I am sure I actually have the time/energy to really give to it, I plan to reach out on different discords and blogs to see if someone who is a queer person of color wants to write it together or something? or at the very least find people to alpha and beta read it for me as I go, but I'd really prefer at least some of it actually be written by people with the identities I don't share.

idk, it's a big endeavor and maybe I am biting off more than I can chew and it'll never happen? who knows. but the idea of writing it feels like a love letter to some of my lost loved ones, so i'd like to at least try and do something with it.

thanks for asking! <3

[chucktaylorupset]

ohhhh tashi's going to be so mad postcanon they start fucking patrck because obviously they start fucking patrick, they have that game that delivers on the innocent promise they made as teenagers and understood each other completely of course they start fucking patrick and it's a big juicy steak of enrichment chucked in a tiger's enclosure.

Tashi is raring to GO she's writing their press timeline she's writing their individual press talking points oh this is patrick we happened to overlap with him at a tournament and it had been a while but he and Art had been such good friends! we wanted to reconnect! Slowly ramp up the contact the public eye with Patrick and Art being hitting partners whenever they have downtime in the same city Tashi watching their matches with rapt attention

But for now. Tashi is buying adjoining hotel rooms reserved under separate names. She's getting herself new lingerie she's getting ART lingerie, she is thinking of a dozen things to piss patrick off on purpose and a hundred responses for when he is absolutely going to do the same she is making Schemes and Plans and instead it's the 2020 pandemic start and Patrick just moves in with them

[landwriter]

Sandman prompt: Dreamling roadtrip

"Remind me why I am allowing this," says Dream.

Hob casts a sidelong glance at him. Dream, in his car. Dream, stuck in the crawl of London traffic with him. Imagine that.

He reels off Dream's succession of unfortunate choices with poorly smothered glee. "Because your sister said you should spend more time among us humans, which you mentioned in passing to Matthew yesterday, who suggested a road trip, then had to explain to you that a road trip meant 'Just driving somewhere for a while', and you apparently you said-," Hob pauses to pitch his voice as low and poncy as possible, "'Ah, a pilgrimage, then. A journey for self-knowledge.' And Matthew said 'That's right, boss' and you said you would, in fact, be curious about such an experience."

"False pretenses," says Dream, darkly, under his breath.

"Indeed," says Hob, who thinks he loves false pretenses now. Matthew had shown up at his flat laughing so hard he couldn't even speak. When he finally recounted the conversation (after Hob had gotten very concerned and asked if Matthew needed a human counselor or an animal vet, and Matthew had shaken his head and wheezed 'No, a driver', before falling into fits of laughter again), Hob had immediately agreed.

"And then I canceled my plans for the weekend because I'm the only human you know who has a car, it turns out," (A reliable and bright red Vauxhall Corsa, thank you for asking.) "And because I'm a very good friend," he adds. He still relishes the new-word feel of it. It had only been four months since Dream had shown up at The New Inn. Hob was skiving off marking midterm papers for this, actually.

"Yes," says Dream. Hob realizes he'd skive off the whole term for this.

How could he turn down the prospect? His friend, literally strapped into the Corsa for at least the next several hours. Assuming Dream didn't leap out and flee on foot down the M1 - which seemed so thoroughly undignified for a being of Dream's station that Hob felt utterly assured of his company. It had all rather gone to his head.

"This will be fun," he promises. "Feel the grass under your feet, and that."

Dream looks out the window bitterly as a lorry overtakes them. Hob has never been the fastest of drivers. Never really took to it, to be honest. Bit of the medieval peasant in him, he thinks, can't quite make himself go over fifty miles per hour. But he's very safe. Hardly any accidents. Mostly minor rear-end damage.

"I see no grass," says Dream.

"Surely the Lord of Stories is familiar with figurative speech," says Hob, and glows under the heat of Dream's glare in reply.

"Anyways," he continues, "We're getting to that bit. Literally. In, uh, six hours or so? It's a great spot. But in the mean time, this is part of it too." Hob takes a hand off the wheel to gesture with a flourish at the sea of sensible hatchbacks and work vans around them, swimming like fish in the asphalt rivers of London's outer burbs. "Humanity," he pronounces, and the car drifts a little into the next lane. Humanity honks rudely at him and then accelerates safely out of Hob's radius.

Dream's sulking seems to have pushed him fully into the realm of catatonia, because Hob's passengers are usually more animated when he does exciting little things like that. Hob looks over in concern and this time the car barely follows with him.

"Bit rusty," he offers.

Dream deigns to snort softly at that. "My sister is far worse," he says.

Hob raises his eyebrows. It was hard to imagine Death bad at anything, frankly. Dream must see his look because he clarifies.

"Another sister. Delirium. An official of the carriageway stopped us. He would not have us continue our passage. So she gave him delusion of bugs crawling across his skin. Forever."

"Well, that's one way to get out of a ticket," says Hob, and makes a mental note to ask Death for a complete list of siblings and how to avoid angering them.

"He was being rude," adds Dream. He suddenly sounds very much like an older brother.

"Oh, fair play, then," says Hob affably. He'd had little sisters once. He understood.

They drive in silence for a few minutes. Hob thinks about putting on a playlist, and has just decided that nineties Britpop is perfect for this occasion when they pass a junction sign and he exclaims in recognition.

"The M25! Funny story, I know just the loveliest antiquarian book dealer who says his partner - uh, I'm assuming there, but if you heard the way he talks about him - anyways, his partner designed it. Some kind of high-flying civil engineer, I reckon."

"Really," says Dream. "A...high-flying...civil engineer." He sounds fascinated.

Hob hadn't expected Dream to be interested in road design.

"Something like that, definitely," he says, looking over to see Dream, staring at him, rapt. He looks back and brakes just in time to avoid hitting the car in front of him as it turns off onto the motorway in question. "Sorry. Saw him once in passing, actually. Dresses like you. Very fancy and dark."

"Perhaps you should keep your focus on the road, Hob," says Dream, but he sounds like he's smiling.

"Oh, we're not for a while yet," says Hob. Half truth, half optimism.

"Where are we going?" asks Dream. Hob beams. He's just won a bet with Matthew.

"It's a surprise" he says. "Now, have you heard of this band called Oasis?"

[maxybabyy]

They came down from the mountain yesterday.

Max leaves tomorrow, would’ve left this morning if Christian hadn’t convinced him to wait for the car that comes in the morning with a new round of supplies.

“I can of course walk to the town myself, always it will be not a problem,” he had said as they came down, the horses close behind them. Their rucksacks light on their backs, weary and tired with the signs of a hard summer.

“Nonsense, kid. Seb won’t mind giving you a ride,” Christian said with his arm around Max’s shoulders. “And I mean, with everything you’ve done for us, we best send you off right. Don’t we, Daniel?”

Daniel had barely look at Max as he laughed, agreed with whatever Christian was telling him.

His heart had felt heavy as he walked towards the chicken pen, but it was better like this. One day and Max would be gone, would be a year before he came back, if even that. Maybe he would find a real job in town, something more than the silly convenience store his dad had him working in.

“But what do you wanna do, Maxy?” Daniel had asked, the rain coming down hard around them.

A rare rainpour had taken them by surprise, and by the time Daniel had come into the tent, he had been soaked to the bone. His spare set of clothing had helped little, and it wasn’t until Max had scooted forward, movements slow but confident as he invited him into his space, into his warmth and heat, that Daniel could breathe again.

“I want, I think, to work with horses,” Max had told him, lips pressed against Daniel’s chest. They hadn’t been naked then, but they would be. Soon. “Always, I have liked the farm. But my father, it did not make enough money, and he would rather sell than make it work.”

Daniel has known nothing but farm work.

He used to dream of the big city, of the stories Scotty would tell when he came to visit, of the freedom and lack of responsibility. But he’s in his thirties now.

Christian may have kids, but none that could take over the farm, or at least not now. Not like Daniel could.

“Did something happen between you and Max?” Christian asks when he doesn’t come in for lunch. “I was going to ask him to come back next year but –“

Daniel shakes his head, “Nah, he was fine. Just, a hard run, you know? Lost a few sheep, long nights, that kind of stuff.”

“Because if something did,” Christian continues, hard set in his ways. “You can tell me.”

Daniel licks his lips, looks up from Laurie the cow, tries to look less miserable than he feels. “He can come back. Good effort for the pay, I’d say. A shame we can’t hire him full-time, he would do well around here.”

It’s Max’s second year on the mountain. He hadn’t come last year, but the year before that he did.

A lanky lad with softened hands but a better attitude than most Daniel has worked with. He spoke still with an accent, the lisp even more pronounced than it is now. Daniel hadn’t known what to do with him then; doesn’t know what to do now that he has to leave.

“He came with good recommendations,” Christian says, nods along as they walk through the pasture. “Too bad about last year, yeah? Would have saved us a lot of trouble, I reckon.”

Sergio had been alright. Fine on a horse, experienced, but in a way that hadn’t come to fruition on the mountain. Max had been the better choice, even back before they had started to –

Daniel shrugs, turns to look at the sun. It’s going to be cold soon, the wind will pick up and the leaves will fall, autumn nothing but a wink before winter will be here.

“It’s hard to know what will happen up there, can’t really prepare yourself before you’re in it,” he says. Every year is different, he knows that now.

He’s done eight summers now, and only once has he dreaded the descent.

“If you say so,” Christian says, claps him on the back and leaves. He had been with Daniel for his first two years, just enough time to show him the rope and make sure he wouldn’t have to do it again.            

The sun has gone down before he comes inside. Food waits for him in the oven, but Daniel isn’t hungry. The house is quiet as he sneaks upstairs for a shower. It’s his second of the day, but it’s fine, Christian would understand.

He scrubs himself raw, a never-ending itching underneath skin that doesn’t stop; worsens when he thinks of tomorrow – of Max. He misses the cold water of the creek, the two of them drying on the shore, Max’s eyes heavy on his body.

Max had made the move then, knee-deep in water and still only a few feet apart.

Daniel had watched him move with his breath caught in his throat, Max’s hand on his arm, on his waist, his hip and then finally, on his dick. He hadn’t stopped looking at him, eyes steady even as Daniel had started to shake, closer than he’d been before with only a few strokes.

“Will you come?” Max had asked, hoarse but confident. Daniel had known then that he wasn’t Max’s first. Not in this, at least. “For me, Daniel?”

Daniel had, but so would everyone, he thinks. If they had been where Daniel had been.

Max waits for him when he comes back to his room. He hasn’t been there before, not before they left for the mountain, but he looks at home in the bed. 

Max reaches for him, and Daniel goes, crawls between his legs, and kisses him like he did the first time: desperate and frantic, unsure if it will happen again.

Sex, he finds, is easier if you aren’t stuck on a mountain, but it isn’t necessarily better.

Max is still just as sweet for him as he opens him up, quicker like this, with something other than repurposed lubricants taken from other scarce supplies. His sounds are the same, quieter now that they share a house with their boss, but still Max falls into the same ecstatic state when he’s close to coming. Begs Daniel for more until he does with a hoarse shout.

Daniel follows quick, a quiet prayer that this won’t be the last time.

“Will you be here next year?” Daniel asks, watches Max as he readies himself to leave. Seb will come by in only a handful of hours, and Max must be back in his room by then. “Will you come back to me?” He doesn’t say.

Max breathes softly as he pulls on his sweater. It isn’t the one he came with, but the one Daniel had worn on the mountain. Soft and knitted by his mother, loose enough in the shoulders that it fits him well.

“I will of course try, but always I have to make sure it is right for me also, for my family.”

Daniel nods sharply, bites his tongue so he doesn’t ask what he shouldn’t.

“Will you go back to the Netherlands this time?”

“I will see after the winter. If I can find good work, maybe. It would be lovely, I think,” Max says, smiles when he meets his stare.

Max had told him about how his sister had given birth to a new son this spring, that he hasn’t been home since he was seventeen when his father brought him overseas to find new work. He knows Max sends part of his salary back home to them, to his mother, knows there’s more to it than just what Max wants. That if Max could, he would of course come back to him.

But life doesn’t always work out like that. Not for guys like them anyway.

“If you do, or like, even if you don’t. You could give me a call sometime,” Daniel says and gets up to follow him to the door. “Let me know how you’re doing, if the tulips are still there.”

“The tulips are there of course every year, Daniel.” Max says, but even he sounds sad, voice soft. “Always they come in spring.”

Daniel laughs, but it comes out hollow. He squeezes Max’s hands that hang between them. “Yeah, well. You go off see the tulips, see your family, Maxy. And when summer comes, then – then you come back to me, yeah? Back to the mountain with me.”

Max kisses him.

It isn’t a yes, but it isn’t a no, and Daniel knows it’s all he can give.

“Goodbye, Daniel.”

[rebornofstars]

BEE!! UNO REVERSE!! before the rain stops?? wiggle eyebrows emoji

BEFORE THE RAIN STOPS! ahahahahg. this is the modern au road trip fic, except i didn't want to set it in the usa, so.... it is the australian modern au road trip fic. there's lore. there's shenanigans. they spend about two months on the road. it's absurd and i love it so much.

snippet for you from chapter 1!

“You’re mad,” Warriors said. He stood up. “What are you here for?” Twilight’s easy grin faltered. He worried his lip with his teeth. Time had been trying to break that habit for years. It was almost good to know he’d never succeeded. One less thing that had changed. One less milestone Warriors had missed. “Kid’s in the school band,” Twilight said. “He asked me if I’d get everyone to come to the concert.” “What?” Warriors scrubbed his face. “Wind? Fuck. He finally joined the band? He didn’t tell me, I didn’t know about any concert. When’s it on? It’s not tomorrow, is it? I’ve got a doctor’s appointment—” “Nah,” said Twilight. “End of September.” Warriors gripped the skin on his cheekbones tightly and stared. “September?” “Yeah,” Twilight said. He looked far too pleased with himself. “It’s July,” Warriors croaked. “Yeah,” said Twilight again. “Have you lost your mind?” “Nope. C’mon, you gotta pack, we’re losing the light.” “I hate you,” Warriors wheezed. “What are you on about? It doesn’t take two months to drive to Sydney. And if you just wanna freeload, I gotta break it to you, Lana’s not gonna like that—” “Kid asked me if I’d get everyone to come to the concert,” Twilight repeated. “You gotta pack. My girl’s waiting in the driveway. I left her running.” “Your g—are you talking about that fucking ute again? Go and turn the engine off, your battery’s gonna go flat.” “One and the same,” Twilight said, still infuriatingly calm. “Fixed her up all good. She runs better than the old man’s tractor now. I’ll go outside, you pack, alright?” “Pack for what,” Warriors asked. It was too late. Twilight had disappeared out into the cold night air, screen door bashing on the brick wall as he went.  “What is going on,” he said to the empty room. He began drafting a text. Hey L—no. Hey babe, my half-brother (remember time?) yeah, his cousin—too complicated. My cousin showed up— He put the phone down. No. How was he supposed to explain this when he barely understood what was happening himself? Twilight was a selfish, smug idiot. How could he just turn up out of the blue and expect Warriors to—to go somewhere with him? What was he thinking? They hadn’t seen each other for years. Warriors had skipped out on every Christmas barbeque since he’d moved away.  Kid asked me if I’d get everyone to come to the concert. “No,” he whispered. “No, what the—no. He can’t be—surely not.” Through the front blinds he could see the other man loitering about comfortably in the driveway. The ute was smaller than he remembered. A matte-brown, rickety thing. Twilight had bought it second-hand off a mate in high school for about a grand and spent the next few years replacing parts obsessively until it was almost a new vehicle. He’d been worried about the suspension when they spoke last. That and the fact that the oil cap was mysteriously leaky. He can’t seriously think— The screen door slammed again. Warriors’ legs propelled him down the driveway before he even had time to think. “You’ve gotta be kidding me. Tell me this is not what I think it is.” Twilight grinned winningly. He held out a half-eaten apple. Where did he get an apple? Why— “Why are you like this?” Warriors begged. “No, put that away. I’m not touching that, you’ve had your mouth on it. Two months. And the others are all over the place. You want to make this a road trip. You want us to drive all the way around the fucking country to collect everyone for Wind’s concert.”

[whorejolras]

blows my mind reading fanfic in the les mis fandom of all places - les amis fanfic too - and seeing that overall there's more neutral-positive attitude towards cops than there ever is towards sex workers.

fucking. cops.

like i know u guys hate us (sex workers) that's very apparent, i know, but really? the fics about the little guys trying to change the world fighting against the system in place and were fully killed by the national guard will have bangers like "the police are just doing their job". fr?

and those same fics will have enjolras campaigning for sex workers to not be able to safely do their jobs. ok.

anyway writers who have enjolras as a staunch sex worker ally who listens to actual sex worker community organisers and supports them in fighting for full decriminalisation i am holding you tenderly in my hands and kissing you top of head.

writers who understand the gravity of what they're writing about re: police and understand the very simple fact that ACAB and have some real direct action fuck the state anarchist/domestic terrorist enjolras & abc, i'm shielding you from everything bad in this world and blessing ur first born.

and swerf bootlickers i hope you run face first into a hammer <3

[bloodydeanwinchester]

yesssss cas so fucking true

[destiel-wings]

FIC REC 📚📌

I know it's quite old and famous (58k hits) but i need all of you to drop everything now & go read take me home country roads by saltyfeathers. I finished it last night and it's one of the best things I've ever read. so beautiful. so well written. perfect characterization. just perfect. made me feel all kinds emotions. it's about demon dean and it's uncanny how greatly he's characterized (takes him to its full potential as the show didn't).

[ruby-red-inky-blue]

tagged by @spacepandar a literal year ago, but felt like it now, thank you Sasha!

Put your ‘On Repeat’ playlist on shuffle and list the first ten songs:

Jolene - Dolly Parton

Just The Other Side Of Nowhere - Johnny Cash

Still Breathing - Green Day

Shake It Out - Florence + The Machine

Langeweile - Pankow

Tommi - AnnenMayKantereit

I am Stretched on your Grave - Kate Rusby

Irish Eyes - Rose Betts

Silver Springs (Live in Burbank, 1997) - Fleetwood Mac

In The Air Tonight - Phil Collins

tagging @moonprincess92 because i got fun music recs from her in the past, and @spacepandar if you feel like doing this again! everyone else please consider yourselves tagged if you feel like doing this, as you can see i could do with some more recent music to listen to lol

[fantastic-mr-corvid]

drafting the ao3 post but my tags made me laugh. spot the odd one out:

there wasn't a tag for bad kissing so surprise it is.

[ronsenburg]

you know there’s probably something fundamentally wrong with you when you spend two days basking in the beauty of nature and can’t wait to write about it in your fic

[jamesunderwater]

Word Search Game!

I was tagged by many of my lovely friends, so I decided to compile them all in one post. I wasn't able to find them all, but did my best. some of them are from published dtm snippets, which I noted, but everything else is from a WIP. thank you for the tags!! this was really fun.

@practicecourts Beach, office, wisecrack, dead, and bonus: proposition @kay-elle-cee grin, soft, heart, pain @uncertainwallflower quiet, reach, light, back @athenasparrow whisper, smirk, wall, lick

tagging: @deermessrs @basslineescapeact @mvnvgedmischief with the words ghost, bite/bit, groan, long

my answers below the cut cause this shit got long <333

Office (dead to me, published)

“All I’m saying is, we’ve been talking about breaking into McGonagall’s office all year and I’m a little disappointed that we’d waste this hallmark of our careers on-”

Dead (dead to me, unpublished)

“Nothing,” he deadpanned, because he didn’t know how to explain that he didn’t want to be acting this way at all, in fact wanted to be acting the opposite, but something in his body was shaking with anger and he didn’t know where to put it.

Proposition (dead to me, published)

“We could go work on it in the library instead, if you’d like? Or in the common room, if it’s not too crowded.” She looked back up at him, trying to gauge his intentions. Was he propositioning her, offering to be alone again so they could pick up where they left off? And if he was…did she mind?  Of course she minded. His whole nice boy routine was nauseating. If he wanted to fuck her again, he could just say so. 

Grin ("sad fic" or Is it Me for You?)

James came out and slammed the door in excitement, his grin wide at the sight of them. “STAG PARTY!!!!!” He bellowed as way of introduction. The four of them screamed back, arms up, “STAG PARTY!!!!!” and for a single moment Sirius thought maybe this could feel normal, after all. 

Soft ("country roads fic")

I found out they were like me. Unwanted just because of who they were. I looked at Reggie, just fifteen, with the softest skin I’d ever seen, innocent eyes, eyes that were just asking for somebody to love him. And I felt all the rage I never could quite feel for myself—because what kind of monsters sent this kid out in the cold? Just because they’d gotten it wrong? Just because he told them the truth of who he was?  “Fuck them all,” I said to the sky. Sirius nodded beside me. “Fuck them all. We don’t need ‘em.” “Never did,” I agreed.

Heart ("country roads fic")

Fuck you! Turning on my heel, sharp and quick, kicking up dust as I bounded towards my mother, the cigarette smoke still sliding out of her lips. Fuck you, fuck Richard, fuck your stupid fuckin’ hair and your stupid fuckin’ nails and every fuckin’ thing about this place! I hope he has a heart attack while he’s mounting you and crushes you under his 250 pound lard of a body, how’s that for perverted? 

Pain (dead to me, unpublished)

He had to reach hard to grasp the knob, but as soon as he did there was an echo of voices: What do you think you’re doing?! They were frantic, a painful ringing in his ears; he heard the high tone of his mother, the gravel of Sirius, the low timber of his father.

Quiet (dead to me, unpublished)

His mother had been reading a book when he asked her—standing to the left of her favorite armchair, one of his small hands touching her arm. She took a very long time to answer him, so long that he patted her again. “Mum! Mum, can I have one?” He paused, then realized why she must have been quiet, “Can I have one, please?”

Reach (dead to me, unpublished)

He was toying with the snitch, letting it fly just out of reach before snatching it back again. Remus was reading his Herbology book, and Peter was flying around the pitch on James’s broom. The sun had just set, but they had the invisibility cloak to get them back into the castle unseen.

Light ("sad fic" or Is it Me for You?)

He tried to convince himself that this was him being normal. This was him saying, see? We can be friends. But in another light he knew he looked like a tryhard, just begging for a full conversation. Just one fucking conversation where Remus didn’t disappear in the middle of it.

Back (brand new secret smut fic)

After, James felt extremely grateful that no one had been looking. Because what had started as their lips pressed softly together turned into one of them stepping closer, neither of them pulling away, both of them placing a hand on the other’s side, someone opening their mouth just so, the other slipping a tongue across their lip… And then they’d pulled back, stunned, a bit of James’ drink having spilt on the floor, neither of them breaking eye contact for what felt like an hour. 

Whisper (dead to me, unpublished)

He’d heard her conversation with McGonagall, of course, the flimsy curtains in the hospital wing doing nothing to block their voices. But he’d intended to keep her secret, having seen the look on her face when McGonagall left, the way she stared with empty eyes at the floor. He’d seen what a private thing this was for her, so sitting around while his peers whispered about the news, he wanted to tell them to shove off.

Smirk (dead to me, unpublished)

“Honestly, I’m glad for it,” he went on, looking away. “She’s a stubborn arse. Good luck with that.” He managed a true and proper smirk, which Sirius latched onto. Rolling his eyes, the other boy sighed. “It’s gonna be a nightmare.” 

Wall ("sad fic" or Is it Me for You?)

When he thought of Remus Lupin in a suit, in a room full of promises of forever, Sirius Black wanted to punch a wall.

Lick (brand new secret smut fic)

James did not know how anyone would say no to blank wordlessly requesting to take off their top, so he lifted his arms, and suddenly the jumper was gone, the cold air licking his chest. “Fuck,” blank whispered, running a hand up James’ chest, and James’ trousers had been tight before, but they were positively bursting at the seams now.

[ereborne]

Song of the Day: March 18

"Break Down Here" by Julie Roberts

[mobliterated]

sorry my sleeper agent phrase was spoken you’re getting danny phantom content now too

[sayingyournames]

looking over my notes for crush like 🧍‍♀️

[enthblaze]

imagine taking your car out for no reason except to drive around and blast music from your "roadtrip playlist" just to "get the vibes for the cbau travel fic"

couldn't be me