lipsum

Chiana



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  1. Public Bookmark *

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    Steve and Bucky get married, and then they fall in love. Most people would have done it the other way around.

    Language:
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    06 Jul 2020

  2. Public Bookmark *

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    Bucky knows it's going to be a bad one when Steve wakes up again, lifts his head up from the side of Bucky's fancy electric hospital bed, and says, "Now don't get mad until I explain."

    His voice has the tone that had meant he'd got into another fight and had two black eyes, or found a HYDRA nest and accidentally forgotten to tell Bucky or the other Howlies that he was going in to clear it out, or that he'd met a stray dog on the way home from the store and given it his share of meat for supper and was planning to eat boiled potatoes and stale bread, while expecting Bucky to eat his own share of the meat as if it didn't choke him.

    Series
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    06 Jul 2020

  3. Public Bookmark 16

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    So while Quentin was saying something to a Knowledge girl about Doctor Who companion power rankings or whatever the fuck, Eliot had leaned in to chew lightly on Quentin's ear and murmur, "We should do roleplay."

    And Quentin, still relatively uncorrupted despite being fully seduced by Eliot, replied, "What, like— like larping?"

    "Well, I don't know, Quentin," Eliot said loftily, "do you often have your dick out while larping?"

    Language:
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    20 Jun 2020

  4. Rec 29

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    Quentin was waiting outside leaning against the rental car. He looked like he had ever looked, since: tight and careful and nearly blank but for the unchanging ghost of some secret simmering anger behind his eyes. Brows permanently half-knit and mouth an unmoving line. He was so still now whenever Eliot had seen him. So quiet and so still. Like all his eternal restless longing and that raw ache that had always radiated out from him had been sealed off like a crime scene or a city under siege. Some place Eliot had loved to walk the dirty sidewalks and could no longer go. It was jarring and infuriating and concerning and kind of hot.

    (Or: It was decided — not by them — that Eliot and Quentin should take a vacation.)

    Language:
    English
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    30,693
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    1/1
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    41
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    105
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    29
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    18 Jun 2020

    Bookmarker's Tags:
    Bookmarker's Notes

    "Only once they had sat down did Eliot feel a wave of stark longing which revealed in fact all along he had wanted this, badly: to cook Quentin breakfast. Was that wrong, he wondered; could that one desire be severed from everything he had no right to want such as to fuck Quentin on the dining table and over the arm of the squat sectional and on the floor by the glass sliding door with the lush embrace of nature watching them and to cook Quentin breakfast with all the attendant intimacy usually connoted by the act and to be forgiven. Could there be an innocence to the pleasure of finding something he could give which Quentin would accept. Or was everything he wanted tainted by proximity to everything else he wanted."

  5. Rec 29

    Tags
    Summary

    Quentin was waiting outside leaning against the rental car. He looked like he had ever looked, since: tight and careful and nearly blank but for the unchanging ghost of some secret simmering anger behind his eyes. Brows permanently half-knit and mouth an unmoving line. He was so still now whenever Eliot had seen him. So quiet and so still. Like all his eternal restless longing and that raw ache that had always radiated out from him had been sealed off like a crime scene or a city under siege. Some place Eliot had loved to walk the dirty sidewalks and could no longer go. It was jarring and infuriating and concerning and kind of hot.

    (Or: It was decided — not by them — that Eliot and Quentin should take a vacation.)

    Language:
    English
    Words:
    30,693
    Chapters:
    1/1
    Comments:
    41
    Kudos:
    105
    Bookmarks:
    29
    Hits:
    1006

    18 Jun 2020

    Bookmarker's Notes

    "Only once they had sat down did Eliot feel a wave of stark longing which revealed in fact all along he had wanted this, badly: to cook Quentin breakfast. Was that wrong, he wondered; could that one desire be severed from everything he had no right to want such as to fuck Quentin on the dining table and over the arm of the squat sectional and on the floor by the glass sliding door with the lush embrace of nature watching them and to cook Quentin breakfast with all the attendant intimacy usually connoted by the act and to be forgiven. Could there be an innocence to the pleasure of finding something he could give which Quentin would accept. Or was everything he wanted tainted by proximity to everything else he wanted."