crooked-queen
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Work Songs


Notes

tunes for the peach orchard bellarke au → work songs

The story ends like this:

Midnight, an old cicada song and a Slim Jim between Clarke’s teeth, lips bruised from a lot more than just kissing, the cold underneath a pickup’s backside, bent metal and bloodied fingertips, the faraway cry of teenagers in the dark, a white lace dress with dirt on the hem, Bellamy’s leather jacket – smoke, book pages, and peach juice, the dull glow and hum of a quick mart that has no business being open this late, and the one person standing in line: a boy with more hair in his eyes than hope, a grim expression, a paperback in his back pocket, and as many freckles on his face as there are stains on his white t-shirt.

read the fic: http://archiveofourown.org/works/4537917/chapters/10328010


9 tracks
1 comment on Work Songs


Your story was enthralling. The atmosphere and imagery you created felt so alive, it's one of my favourite pieces of writing. I was intrigued from the first sentence, you're a truly excellent writer and I really hope you continue the story. - Mary Clement

 
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