campholmes
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Walking back to the restaurant in a daze he had sobbed at random, at the sheer look of Moscow in the night, thinking, this is literally it. I’ll never come back. And maybe he would, but so far down the line that all would be totally unrecognizable. The orange light, the blue light against the snow. His nose running. Cars buried in snow, cars buried in snow.
Moscow, Shane's cottage, Boston, New York.
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Louis watches out of the corner of his eye, and the meat’s throat clicks as he swallows and then moans, eyes rolling back into his head as Lestat cups his bulge with one gaudy Joan Crawford witch hand. Louis’ mouth fills with what he isn’t saying and isn’t allowing himself. Lestat is just sitting so pretty and weird, mascara running a little bit and all of his straight white Francophone teeth biting the inside of his mouth so his cheekbones pop. Expansive decadence and deepening scar at the edge of his mouth, Louis wants him. Is almost dripping with it.
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divide it in sections, and then give it away by campholmes
Fandoms: IT - Stephen King, IT (Movies - Muschietti)
20 Jan 2021
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He feels that Eddie feeling, that I’m nobody my body is too big for my soul will he stay over tonight a 24/7 brainfreeze roadkill feeling, about his lover and his preteeny-Id “boyfriend,” big big brown eyes and hidden freckles by good honey tan, lips perfectly bitten and pristinely moisturized by the fanciest, most correct best ever only chapstick, you know that chapstick you’re using has alcohol in it, they’re drying out your lips so that you keep coming back for more, Richie-
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Francis Abernathy was cold (temperature-wise), prim (in his fingers and feet), and flushed (on his cheeks, ears, and chest) at all times.
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The next morning, Harry takes Malfoy to his local grocery, where Malfoy proceeds to convince him to purchase seven different types of ice cream treats after nearly coming to blows in the frozen aisle. And then they go home and fuck some more, with ice cream and lying naked on the floor listening to music and smoking in between.
And then Malfoy leaves their sex-den psychedelic dreamworld to visit so-and-so who-knows-where, and Harry writes him to come back after he’s only been gone the one day.
(A love story, a hate story, a story propped up by vintage fashion, a what would you do if your ex-nemesis turned up to your party in blue eyeliner and bell bottoms story.)