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dark cloudy bars, shiny cadillac cars.
we drove into the desert. we drove into death: the sun was so white and rare and rich on our bare legs, and it shone on us until the water had gone from our limbs. we were made thin, dry, stone strong but delicately so. we were drowning in sand and freedom and blue; the sky was so wide, so fucking wide and deep and defiantly limitless that i was ( Read more... ) -
(Untitled)
after a long stretch of silence, i've decided to go on an unlocking spree. pretty much everything here is several years old and a few are unintentionally hilarious, but. serious nostalgia, guys.
( an incomplete fic list. ) -
[football] who says eating and writing aren't related?
another part of this.
Ricky plucks a peach from the fruit bowl kristen leaves on the kitchen island each morning, and absently tosses it back and forth between his hands as he walks through the house. andriy suppresses a frown. it’s an oddly intimate thing to do; he’s become accustomed to serving guests steaks and champagne in crystal flutes at ( Read more... ) -
[football] this is the only thing i've been able to write the past week.
andriy still owns a house in Milan: London is too quick for him, all angles and business and a distinct lack of romanticism; Stamford Bridge too exposed, brash with its secrets. he feels the scrutiny sharply, excessively and intimately so, as if the English are scraping his skin off layer by layer and are each time disappointed with what they ( Read more... ) -
don't give the ghost up, just clench your fist
Five things meme, only three this time because they're quite long ones - one requested, two self-prompted.
For callings: ( Five kisses that happened during the World Cup. )
