not language but a map

mrs. robinson get dooOoOoOoOoWn good lord

here’s to you, the original rump shakers

SHORTY GET DOWN, MRS. ROBINSON

cover much ground, got game by the pound
but most of all you’ve got to hide it from the kids 

TODAY, DOES TODAY WORK FOR YOU

and all that they see is the show [clint/bruce]

Bruce’s hands are the only big thing about him. His smiles are small and his laughter is quiet, his waist is trim and his height is lacking; he wears clothes two sizes too large and swims in them, enjoys, Clint imagines, the sensation of misfitting on the less dangerous side of his least loved equation. His hands, though, spread wide across the tabletop, the windowsill, the tattoo at Clint’s left hip—his hands open and close, long fingers tracing lingering paths, palms curved with breadth enough to carry around an extra heart. 

“I don’t know what to do with the way you look at me,” Bruce admits, once. 

“Hold onto it?” Clint suggests, and Bruce doesn’t argue. 

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fresh air (sam evans genfic for chayya!)

In Kentucky, they still allow smoking in bars. It’s a lesson Sam learns and relearns, coming home with glitter on his face and the bitter Marlboro blues clinging to his jacket, ghosting after him down the block; his sister wrinkles her nose once, pulls away from a hug, and that’s the only thing that stops him picking up the habit. It’s a shame, because there are days—not so much at the start, but later, once the nerves have worn thin—that he wishes he could do something stupid and dangerous, could feel himself blacken his lungs one puff at a time. 

—

Rachel Berry, when she crashes back into his life with a dollar in her hand, Finn Hudson at her heels, every inch the living technicolor theater spectacular she’s always been—Rachel Berry tells him he’s good at stripping for all the wrong reasons, for all the reasons he shouldn’t be doing it. It’s not that she’s wrong, exactly; it’s true that his youth makes him approachable, that his warm eyes and easy smile make him seem innocent in ways that appeal. 

The truth is, though, he’s good at stripping for the same reason he was good at football, good at Glee, good at stepping up when his parents need him, good at tuning out the whispers that once drifted—will drift again—through the halls of McKinley High. Anyone can learn to dance; it’s closing your eyes and breathing through the way your old friends look at you, like they’re embarrassed, like they’re sorry, that takes the application of skill.

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chayya m’dear you best prepare yourself for a BEDTIME STORY

pammybuchanny asked: i love you so much.

also: FUTURE FIC YES PLEASE

but mostly i love you

i love you moooooooore <3

sleepinnude replied to your post: BE ADVISED: SERIOUS TRUE BLOOD SPOILERS BELOW

we’re gonna have to wait for easter though and sookie’s going to have to poke a finger in his wound or some shit aren’t we?

obvs. and then alan ball is going to be somewhere going oooh look at me i am so ~subtle~ and i am going to TEAR OUT ALL OF MY HAIR IN RAGE OH MY GOD CHAYYA FUCK THIS SHOW SO MUCH

pammybuchanny asked: TRUE BLOOD: THE "KILL EVERYONE CHAYYA EVEN CARES ABOUT (BARRING, LIKE, ERIC AND LAFAYETTE AND SOMETIMES JASON)" EDITION

SERIOUSLY FUCK THIS SHOW SO MUCH OH MY GOD

pammybuchanny asked: jizzy, i love you lots and lots

okay that's all
<3

I LOVE YOU TOOOOOOO CHAYYA