#I missed writing poems- I need to start doing that again

[a-scary-lack-of-common-sense]

I missed poem doing poem nights on this blog, so have a poem that's been sitting around in my drafts since last year.

Stranger. -by me

I saw you coming, Mr. Stranger, coming from afar.

I was alone with pockets full of ants, as always, as ever.

You, with your ungainly gait, and fast approach. I don't know who I saw in you, but a stranger.

“Only the worst kind,” the ants all whispered as they crawled across my limbs, biting them numb.

My skull buzzed with cloudy static as the ants nipped at my thoughts; cutting them off halfway; scattering them; Null.

“Only the worst kind,” I agreed, although you were but a stranger.

I looked away, walked away; knees stiff with tension and gait just as ungainly as yours.

And you followed.

Your footsteps suddenly seemed louder and faster behind me. I could hear you mutter something soft under your breath. Incomprehensible, damned.

The ants skittered and jittered between my ribs. “Only the worst,” they wailed, “what could he do?”

You walked, I walked; both of our gaits stiff and ungainly. We, strangers, one by one.

I did not turn around, I did not acknowledge you. Mr. Stranger, neither did you.

Suddenly the time between us seemed vast and gaping. I felt young; you felt old.

Panic gripped and terror struck, the ants called for Mother and I answered the phone

About a danger following me home.

Mother called Father, and Father came quick. He met me halfway, and he did not see you.

Where did you go, stranger? When did you go?

Mr. Stranger, was it your footsteps that I'd been listening to so keenly for those last few meters, or were they mine? Whose presence had I been feeling at my back as I walked?

Were you ever following me at all? Or had the ants just lied to me, again.

Father brushed it off just as quick as he came, and so did Mother. This wasn't the first time the ants had overflowed from my pockets, tore holes in my reason. And it wouldn't be the last. They knew that, I knew that, and the ants knew it too.

So, off I was back to my room; a stranger no more, and ants spilling at my feet. They didn't stop whispering, they never did.

I condemned you, Mr. Stranger, to be only the worst. I condemned you, to an image, and I don't know if you were. Maybe you were a danger, or maybe you were just another stranger, like I was to you.

[bvidzsoo]

Grease and Oil

⨳Mechanic!Mingi⨳

TW: cursing, smut wrap it before you tap it

Word count: 5,6k

A/N: I don't think I'll ever let go of bleached spikey haired Mingi. It changed something in me, I'll never be the same. I have nothing to say except...why did I even write this? Song Mingi stop haunting me, thank you. It's not the best, but the best I can write lol. Feedback is very much appreciated!

            The smell of grease, oil, and gasoline weren’t something unfamiliar to me, nor were they nauseating. It was something I was used to. These were familiar scents; scents which I have started associating with home. Cars, too, were something I associated with a feeling of familiarity, of something dear to me. Walking inside my father’s car service was like a second home, a place I knew like the back of my hand. I wasn’t huge on fixing cars, but I knew a few things here and there. Despite my father’s attempts at making me a great mechanic one day, I struggled to understand the in-depth parts and mechanism of a car, therefore I settled on appreciating their beauty. Can’t say my father was too happy about it, but his concerns faded away when I found a path for myself. I applied to a college, choosing to study literature as I struggled finding anything else I liked. Perhaps creative writing was a subjected I happened to enjoy too, but I had no idea where my degree would take me one day. I had no intentions of teaching English literature, the children these days were awful and very disrespectful. My short temper would’ve surely gotten the worst of me if placed in a situation where I had to deal with rude kids. And so, I settled on reading my books and pouring my feelings out into short poems when I wasn’t at college. Or by wasting my time away at my father’s car service. It’s not like I had anything better to do—I actually did, but procrastination is my best friend. Besides, most of his employees are above the age of thirty-five, and two of them I have known since I was a little girl, they could be really fun to hang around…and it’s not like I would often stop by because my father has an employee who is barely a few years older than myself. And it’s definitely not because he is the hottest man alive I have ever seen. He’s a tall and lean guy, his posture immaculate with his shoulders always pulled back, his long legs worth envying and shoulders so broad you could hide behind them and nobody would see you. In the summer, he usually wears tight tank tops, showing off his humble muscles, biceps finer than most guy’s of his age. And his pants, which are fireproof, cling onto his body, showing off his narrow waist. This guy was a sight for sore eyes and I couldn’t blame the few ladies who would occasionally stop by, completely taken aback by this guy’s visuals. It wasn’t fair that he had a perfect body, especially when his face was good-looking too. God sometimes had favorites and Song Mingi definitely was one of them with his long nose, sharp eyes and cherry red lips, a singular mole underneath his left eye decorating his flawless skin. His personality also made him desirable and that just made him a dangerously charming and handsome human being. Perhaps my frequent visits to the service during the summer were sort of his merit too, not just the want to spend some quality time with my father as he spent little time at home. I knew he was busy; I couldn’t blame him. His service was one of the best in our little town and money didn’t just magically appear, you had to work hard for it and that’s what he did, he worked his ass off all the time. The fact that he has employed Song Mingi was just the cherry on top, the little motivation I needed to perhaps learn more about cars.

I was settled on top of my father’s working desk, tools pushed to the side, feet dangling as I watched him work on a car’s engine, getting more and more furious by the second as he couldn’t find one missing screw. I watched quietly as his phone rang again, making him sigh loudly before he straightened himself up and took the call, eyebrows furrowed. It was a hot summer day, the AC did little to nothing inside the hot service, and the use of different electrical tools only created more heat inside the spacious room. I had started fanning myself, overhearing my father make an appointment as an obnoxiously loud engine whirled past the entrance to the service, making my heart skip an excited beat. It was lunch break, and Mingi had just returned from eating his meal. He was gone by the time I had arrived; I was rather lazy this morning and thus didn’t bother getting out of bed before 12 pm. My father turned towards me as he finished his call, looking rather irritated. It wasn’t directed at me; however, I still knew a lecturing would follow because I sat on his tool desk…again.

“Get off, Y/N, I asked you so many times not to sit there,” He sighed tiredly as he headed for the exit, “I have to examine a car, are you coming to the front?”

Certainly not before I have seen Mingi, “I’ll wash my hands first, they feel slimy, meet you at the reception, dad.”

He nodded once and hurried outside, phone already ringing once again. Summer seasons were always busy, work pilling up quickly. I started fanning myself with my hands as another heatwave hit me, making me sigh. Not even a tank top and shorts were enough to stop me from sweating buckets. I pushed my hair behind my shoulders and gripped the table, about to jump off it, when the man I stayed behind for finally showed up. He walked through the open garage door, having to duck as it wasn’t raised enough for his towering height. He had his back to me as he walked inside, carrying two boxes, muscles of his arms bulging as a few guys greeted him, instructing him where to place the boxes. However, nothing could’ve prepared me for the wave of shook which rooted me to my spot. My mouth hung open as my eyes remained trained on Mingi, and I could only hope nobody noticed my shameless gaping. Three days ago, when I have stopped by last, the man’s hair reached his shoulders almost and was a faded light brown. Now, his hair was completely bleached blonde and stood up in all places, spikey. A hairstyle definitely shouldn’t have made my tummy do flips, yet I had nothing to swallow as I watched Mingi laugh with a fellow mechanic, explaining something to him animatedly. His black tank top was tucked inside his beige pants, a black belt holding it against his hips securely. A black bandana was tied to his left bicep and I licked my lips as my eyes ran over his frame, stopping for a second too long on his ass. Perhaps crawling onto the wall sounded like the most normal thing to do right now. Just as I was about to look away, the man he was talking to briefly glanced at me and Mingi suddenly turned his head, eyes falling on me. Looking away right now would mean admitting that I had been staring at him, so I forced myself to smile nonchalantly at him and blame the flush on my cheeks on the extremely hot weather—which combined with Mingi’s presence only made my body heat up even more. I didn’t want to admit it to myself, but I’d do anything to get railed by Mingi while he wore his working clothes with grease smeared on his cheek. My heart skipped a beat as a lazy smirk appeared on his lips as he took off towards me, making me gulp in panic as I straightened my posture.

“Hello, princess.” He called once he was close enough and I rolled my eyes at the nickname, acting as if I totally hated it. It did bother me at the beginning when he started calling me that, but I didn’t mind anymore. And it certainly shouldn’t have made me blush.

“Hi, Mingi.” I greeted him back, smiling as I crossed my legs and leaned forward, holding myself up by my hands. My knuckles hurt from the grip I had on the table, but I ignored that.

“What brings you here today?” He asked nonchalantly, crossing his arms in front of his chest. I didn’t want to look, but his biceps were bulging and I’m just a simple woman, “Thought you washed your car when you stopped by last time.”

Ah, yes, the good old excuse of washing my car when it didn’t need washing yet. To be fair, I had a cleaning problem so that was the main reason why I washed my car so often, Mingi being here was just another thing to motivate me to stop by more frequently.

“I did, I’m not here for that.” I admitted, clearing my throat as Mingi’s sharp eyes narrowed slightly, mischievous glint appearing in his eyes. He hummed shortly, the sound deep in his throat, reminding me how hot I found his raspy and deep voice. He had once whispered in my ear as he snuck up on me, wanting to scare me, and I swear to God, I almost reached Heaven that day.

“Are you here for me then?” The cute pout of his lips and the finger he pushed against his cheek definitely didn’t match the sultriness of his words and the look in his eyes. It made me take a deep breath as I forced myself to roll my eyes, embarrassed that he had a feeling I was only here to see him. I mean…I did wear my favorite off-shoulder top just because I knew we would see each other.

“Why the sudden change of hairstyle?” I decided to change the subject, but it only made Mingi smirk as he looked at me almost victorious, almost as if he knew I didn’t answer him because he was right. Mingi ruffled his already spikey hair with a shrug of his shoulders.

“Just wanted something new,” He answered, “besides, it’s so hot these days, my long locks only made me sweat more. I feel like a new man right now. What do you think, do I look nice?”

Nice was little said, I would’ve described him more like: hot, sexy, attractive, gorgeous, mouth-watering, “Yeah, you look nice. It suits you.”

Mingi smiled happily and bowed lightly before his phone beeped. I didn’t understand how a man like him could be so cute while looking like a Greek God. My eyebrows slightly furrowed as I watched Mingi chuckle and smile down at his phone, quickly typing something on it. Perhaps he was seeing someone? Of course, why would a man like him be single? It shouldn’t come as a surprise; I should have thought about that sooner. But then again, he never mentioned a significant other. With a sigh, I jumped off the table and dusted off my shorts, running my hands through my hair. Mingi paused, looking up at me through his long lashes. I forced a smile on my face, suddenly discouraged by my own thoughts, as I grabbed my phone off the table.

“Got to go, dad’s waiting for me.” I mumbled as Mingi’s eyes slightly narrowed, eyes swiftly running over my body. He nodded wordlessly and I turned around, taking off towards the exit.

“That top looks really nice on you.” My steps halted for a second as I looked back at him and chuckled before exiting the garage, walking towards the reception, ignoring the butterflies in my stomach at the simple compliment. I should probably download a dating app and find someone available to obsess over.

            The blaring music and blinding disco lights in the living room were becoming too much as my tipsy head swirled around like a disco ball, throat parched up and dry from the lack of water. Certainly the amount of alcohol I have had was enough for the night as I pushed people out of my way, slightly wobbling as I headed for the kitchen, desperately needing water. A super rich guy from college threw a huge ass party and invited some guys over from our college, one of them being one of my close friends. I wasn’t one to turn down a good party, and when the alcohol was free, I would certainly attend it. Seonghwa and I had teamed up and played beer-pong together, kicking Wooyoung and San’s asses, but losing to Hongjoong and Yunho. We should have known better not to challenge those two competitive monsters. All in all, the night was fun and after having lost Sooyoung to some hot guy, I hit the dancefloor with Wooyoung and San, the three of us dancing our hearts out to every song. After a while, I grew concerned and started calling Sooyoung, making my two dancing companions almost take my phone away after six missed calls. But it didn’t take long for Sooyoung to finally text me, telling me she was upstairs with a Yeosang named guy smoking some weed, and that she’d be down in no time. I rolled my eyes at the text, huffing as I handed Wooyoung my phone to take care of. My skirt had no pockets and I forgot to bring a fanny-pack, I have grown tired of holding my phone, Wooyoung’s back pocket would do the trick until Sooyoung returned and I could give my phone for her to put in her little purse. The music wasn’t as loud in the kitchen as it was in the living room and it was also less packed, which made me grateful as I walked over to the window and pushed it open, smiling contently at the cool air which hit my face. I certainly needed to cool down. I grabbed a red cup which looked relatively unused and filled it with tap water, downing it in mere seconds only to fill it up again and again until I felt satiated. I threw the cup away and leaned against the counter, holding my thumping head in my hands as I closed my eyes for a second, thinking it would help. But it only made me more nauseous and I quickly opened my eyes as I massaged my forehead, still leaning slightly over. Somebody next to me asked if I was okay and I quickly nodded, telling them that I just needed a moment to regain composure again, and I’ll be off dancing once again. However, a weirdly familiar deep voice suddenly filled the kitchen, some high-pitched giggle following straight after the ridiculous joke the guy told. My nose scrunched up at the very cheesy pickup line which followed and I snorted, unintentionally catching their attention as they didn’t stand too far away.

“Y/N?” The deep voice asked surprised and my eyebrows furrowed as I finally raised my head, smoothing down my hair as it fell in my face.

“Oh, Mingi.” I muttered just a little surprised by his presence here. I wondered how he knew about the party, however, the black-haired girl by his side was a tell-tale. She was a student at my college and she was pretty as fuck. I sighed, and unintentionally glared at her, unimpressed by her presence next to Mingi. It’s not like I knew her well to form an opinion about her, but personally, I didn’t like her that much. Especially since Mingi seemed to be here with her. My eyes fall back onto him and my brain blanched for a second, never having seen him outside of the car service up until now. Him not wearing his tight-fitting clothes was something new and I couldn’t help but let my eyes run all over his body, taking in the sight in front of me. He wore a loose-fitting white t-shirt, the front slightly tucked inside his grey ripped jeans which were baggy. He wore a black pair of convers, and a black fanny-pack was pushed around to his backside to not bother him. However, what made me take a second to process what I was seeing were his accessories. His necklaces were layered as he wore a red braided like material which sat snugly against the base of his neck, then a silver chain followed, and a silver cross which reached just bellow his collarbones. His wrists were decorated with silver chain bracelets, matching the chain around his neck and he wore various rings, some bigger than the other, his right-hand sporting four meanwhile his left three. If all of that combined with his hair wasn’t enough, his fingernails were also painted black, albeit already coming off in some spots, but still painted black. He was a sight for sore eyes and it took everything in me to not grip his arm and walk us upstairs, completely disregarding the girl he was here with.

And she just had to speak up, “Oh, you two know each other?”

“Yeah, her dad’s my boss.” Mingi answered before I could and I raised an eyebrow as the girl took me in, unexpectedly smiling at me as she placed an arm around Mingi’s shoulders. My jaw tensed subconsciously and I licked my lips as I leaned back against the counter, crossing my arms in front of my chest.

“We go to the same college,” She told Mingi, offering her hand to me, “I don’t think we’ve ever really introduced each other, though. My name is Jennie, I’m Mingi’s cousin.”

“Cousin?” My eyebrows raised as I shook Jennie’s hand, “I’m Y/N, by the way.”

“Unfortunately, yes.” Mingi playfully pushed Jennie off himself as he answered my question and Jennie just rolled her eyes.

“Whatever, giant, if I leave you alone with Y/N, will you behave?” She raised her eyebrows threateningly at Mingi and he just chuckled, raising his hands in surrender.

“I always behave.” He defended himself quickly, but sounded like he didn’t mean it at all.

“No, you don’t.” Jennie rolled her eyes then looked back at me, “I have to find my boyfriend, he’s somewhere here around, probably drunk off his ass. If Mingi bothers you, just knee him in the stomach really hard and come and find me, I’ll kick his ass for you—”

“I’m right here, you know.” Mingi rolled his eyes and ruffled Jennie’s hair, “Get lost before I chase you away.”

Jennie scoffed but walked away after she waved at me, leaving me alone with Mingi. My hostile behavior slightly dropped, but I couldn’t help look at Mingi with narrowed eyes. I knew what I heard while I was fighting the urge of throwing up. Why would anyone flirt with their cousin? That was disgusting.

“If Jennie is your cousin…why would you say a pickup line to her?” I couldn’t help but ask him accusingly. It made Mingi laugh as he stepped closer, smiling cheekily.

“Eavesdropping, weren’t you?” I opened my mouth to deny his claim, but Mingi didn’t let me, “First of, ew, that’s literally my cousin do I look like I fuck with family? And second, that pickup line was actually sent by someone whom I have been talking to, and I was just reading it to Jennie.”

“How many girls are you talking to currently?” The question tumbled past my lips before I could even think about it. I only could blame the alcohol for making me so straightforward and embarrassing.

“Wouldn’t you like to know…” Mingi chuckled and stepped closer, invading my personal space. I gulped and pressed myself harder into the counter, hands coming to grip the edge of it. A smirk appeared on Mingi’s lips as he leaned down to be eye level with me, eyes searching my face before they settled on my lips briefly. My head was spinning and perhaps I was seeing things, but his tongue poked out for a second, “You look really hot.”

I gulped and let out a quiet breath, looking down at myself. The leather skirt clung onto me like a second skin and the flower decorated corset did little to nothing to cover what I would usually hide. It was Sooyoung’s idea to dress up like this, she wore a matching set except her corset was green meanwhile mine pink.

“Uh, thanks.” I whispered and didn’t dare move as Mingi lowered his head even more, looking through his lashes as he looked me in the eyes. He’s never stood this close to me before; it only now made me realize the height difference between us. And I couldn’t help but faintly smell gasoline despite his strong cologne.

“Dressed up for someone?” He muttered and I felt a warm finger lightly trace the skin of my right arm. I gulped nervously and ignored the goosebumps on my skin.

“I didn’t know you’d be here—” I tried changing the subject, it seemed to be a habit of mine lately.

“But if you did know, would you have dressed up for me?” Mingi’s raspy voice whispered in my ear as he leaned closer, my mouth opening without a sound coming out. My tipsy brain didn’t exactly know how to function in that moment and that meant I had nothing to say. But as he pulled back, we made eye contact, and his intimidating gaze pulled an answer out of me instantly.

“Yes.” I would totally hate myself in the morning for admitting that, but I couldn’t help myself. Not when he was standing so close and saying things like that. A smirk pulled onto Mingi’s lips and suddenly his hand raised as he gripped a strand of my hair lightly and twirled it around, brushing it behind my ear. I watched him mesmerized, body slightly trembling because of different things. The opened window brought in the chill breeze and we stood close to the it; Mingi’s closeness and touch made me want to crash my lips against his, and I was fighting every fiber in my body to stop myself from doing that, thankfully not tipsy enough to lose all rationality.

“I think I know about your little secret, princess.” Mingi’s tone was playful as he suddenly cupped my cheek and tilted my head back, hovering his face over mine, eyes tracing my features slowly. I hoped my red lipstick wasn’t smudged and that it would be smudged in no time.

“What secret?” I asked confused, biting my lower lip as Mingi’s Adam’s apple bobbed up and down as he swallowed, his fingers slipping towards my nape as his thumb pushed against my cheek.

“About your little crush—” He barely whispered, eyes on my lips as my mouth parted, heart beating like crazy, “on me.”

Before I could answer him, his teeth caught my lower lip between his and he sucked on the flesh, making my face flush as I mewled, hand holding onto his waist for more stability as the counter wasn’t enough anymore. He held eye contact as he released my lip and I felt like crumbling onto my knees and giving him anything he wanted as my grip tightened on him, head pulled closer to his by the grip he had on my nape. Mingi’s lips barely brushed against mine and I tried to close the impossibly little distance between us, but he just tsked and smirked.

“Good girls eventually get what they want, princess, be a bit more patient.” I couldn’t help but groan in frustration as Mingi released me and took a step back, smirking as he swiped his thumb over my lower lip, smudging my lipstick. I threw him a glare, but he just laughed and then turned around and walked off with a cup he grabbed off from the counter. I couldn’t help but lick my lower lip, pressing a palm against my racing heart as I tapped the sweat off my forehead, needing another cup of water to cool off.

            And I didn’t even have to wait for too long. Four days after the party, my father asked me to stop by the car service because he couldn’t decide what color to choose for the tuning he was doing for one of his friend’s car. I couldn’t have been happier to stop by as I made it my personal mission to stay away from that place for as long as possible, embarrassed by what happened between Mingi and I at the party, but also because I wanted to torture him a bit too. I could only hope he yearned to see me as much as I yearned for him. My father was out, having to pick up some pieces in the nearest city, which was half an hour away, so that meant he’d be gone for approximately an hour and a half. Everyone was gone by now from the car service as working hours were over, everyone except Mingi, of course. He had to catch up on his work as he had to skip a day for some undisclosed business. And yes, Mingi should’ve been working right now on that old car nobody actually wanted to fix, but here he was, balls deep in my pussy, thrusting into me like his life depended on it. I guess he was just a simple man too, and he fell exactly into my trap as I walked through the garage door wearing my little sundress, high heels elongating my legs. It didn’t take long for Mingi to stop whatever he was doing as he dragged me to the backroom, where there were no cameras, and pushed up on the table, wasting no time in undressing himself and working up the both of us. My head was thrown back from the constant pleasure his movements brought, his length reaching places no one else has before, my right hand gripping his bare waist as I rolled my hips to meet his thrusts. Mingi was biting his lips hard, holding onto my hips as I had to hold myself up with one arm, muscle straining with each strong thrust. Perhaps I should have expected him to be vocal, but the whines he would let out every now and then only turned me on even more, dragging my own moans out of me. Grease stuck to his left cheek, just underneath his mole and his already sweaty body from working was glistening once again, smelling strongly of the substance he has been working with to clean rims of the old car.

“I bet you’ve been fantasizing about me fucking you covered in grease and all sweaty from the long day I’ve had.” My only answer was a loud moan as he hit the sweet spot which made me see stars, and for a second, all I could hear were his own pants and the table squeaking louder and louder with each thrust.

“You have no idea—” I moaned as I clenched around Mingi, mind blanching for a second as he hit that spot again, “How fucking hot you look—like this.”

My fingertips dug into his hips and Mingi suddenly leaned down, pressing my back flat against the wooden table, rotating his hips as he suddenly slowed down. My mouth opened in a gasp and my legs went around his hips, one hand tangling in his blonde spikey hair as the other went around his shoulders to anchor myself. Mingi groaned in my ear as I clenched around his length again, his thrusts painfully slow on purpose, making me try to move my hips, but he had me pinned down by his heavier body.

“Fuck, please—” My whine was muffled by his lips as he pressed them against mine, pushing his tongue past my lips as I kissed him hungrily, wanting to feel more and more of him. Our lips moved messily against each other as Mingi slightly quickened his pace, but it still wasn’t enough. My eyebrows were furrowed as it started becoming unbearable and I whined, pulling my head away and choking on my words for a second, “I’m going to fucking die if you don’t go faster.”

I couldn’t believe Mingi had the audacity to smirk as he bit my lower lip harshly, making me push his head away as he chuckled amused, fake pouting at me.

“Thought I said good girls get what they want—” He completely stilled, bringing tears into my eyes out of frustration as I gripped his nape, trying to move against him to no avail, “And you’re being rather impatient right now.”

But before I could say anything, the slightly stood up and pulled almost fully out before slamming in again, his pace relentless and thrusts sharp as he threw his head back, moaning, making me grip onto his lower arm as he hit my g-spot over and over again, making my back arch as broken moans left my lips, nails digging into his skin. I was going fucking insane as his thumb found my clit and he started rubbing circles on it, making me cry out as I felt my orgasm building up, ready to snap any second as Mingi’s moans got higher and higher, my walls clenching tightly around him, bringing him closer to the edge as well.

“Fuck.” He hissed at a particular sharp thrust, his hips almost stuttering but I managed to meet his movements, desperate for my own release as I clawed at the wooden table, back arching as the pleasure became unbearable and the knot in my stomach snapped, making me let out a high-pitched moan, only for Mingi’s lips to muffle it as his hips stuttered, his own release following mine, filling me up. My body trembled and my lungs heaved for air as I came down from the high, our lips touching with Mingi as we both panted into each other’s mouths. His scent was intoxicating and I couldn’t help but burry my head into his neck and lightly bite down on his perfect skin, making him shudder. He didn’t pull out yet and I felt him twitch slightly, making me chuckle.

“So, I’m hot when I’m all sweaty and covered in grease?” He spoke up, voice raspy, and his words made me laugh as I allowed my head to rest against the wooden table, throwing an arm over my eyes. I could feel Mingi’s smile as he pressed a kiss against the corner of my mouth, swiftly pulling out.

“I said it once, I won’t say it again.” I peeked at him as he quickly pulled up his boxers and tight pants, adjusting his tank top.

“If I knew all I had to do was change my hairstyle for you to finally let me fuck you—” Mingi shook his head as he helped me off the table, smirking when I had to lean against it for support, my legs having gone numb, “I would’ve done it a lot earlier.”

“Perhaps if you weren’t so oblivious,” I threw him a glare and pulled up my panties, adjusting my dress, “You would’ve noticed how badly I wanted you since the first time I laid eyes on you, idiot.”

Mingi laughed and threw an arm around my shoulders as he pulled me into himself, “Now that that’s out of the way…do you want to date or do you want us to just fuck?”

His question made me pause as I looked up in his eyes, biting my lower lip in thought, “You want to go out with me?”

“I sure do.” Mingi said it like it was the most obvious thing, then he jutted his chin towards mine, “What about you?”

“What do you think?” I asked with a chuckle.

“That we should go for a second round—”

“Mingi!” I pressed my palm over his mouth and threw him a little glare, “My father could be back anytime, you know. And yes, I do want to date you. Unless you’re always this annoying.”

Mingi fake laughed as he pushed my hand off his mouth, “Aren’t you just so funny?”

I stuck my tongue out at him and he tried kissing it, making me yelp and push him away, which made Mingi giggle as he placed his hands in his pockets, “So, tomorrow at six?”

“But you better shower before you come pick me up.” I pointed a finger at him as we went to leave the room.

“I thought I smelled hot—”

“You can’t smell hot, so just—” I sighed and looked at him, “Just—dress up. You—I mean, you know, you looked really good at the party. I haven’t seen you out of your work clothes before.”

“Aw, aren’t you so shy right now and stuttering all of a sudden?” He cooed and poked my cheek, “As if I wasn’t inside you—”

“Y/N, you still here?!” I heard my father’s voice shout from afar and I threw Mingi a warning look as I pushed him away. He walked towards the car he had to fix defeated, throwing me those sad puppy eyes and a pout as my father walked inside the garage.

“Hi.” I waved at him and he smiled, glancing at Mingi.

“You can fix it tomorrow too, you know?” My father said as he went to put his own utensils away. Mingi hummed but said he didn’t have much until he was done, liar. My father glanced at me and I looked away from Mingi, smiling at my father innocently. He just shook his head and threw his keys at me, making me clumsily catch them.

“Go pick up your mother, I’ll stay behind and help Mingi fix the car.” He muttered tiredly as he walked up to my soon-to-be-boyfriend, oblivious to what Mingi would soon become to him as well. Not just an employee, but perhaps a part of our family too. I jokingly saluted my father as I stopped in the doorway, turning to look at Mingi, who was already watching me.

“Goodbye, Mingi.”

“Bye, Y/N.” Mingi tried to fight the smile off his lips as I turned around and ran off with a giggle, cheeks burning suddenly with embarrassment.

Good girls eventually get what they want, don’t they?

Masterlist

[anomaly-hivemind]

Delulu is the Solulu ☆ Gyutaro x Reader | Kinktober Day 28

Summary: He loves me... he loves me not, oh who am I kidding of course he loves me~

Word Count: 2015

Tags: voyeurism, mutual masturbation, obsession, mentions of death, rough sex, stalking, possessive, yandere x yandere,

You were reading the love letters to your secret admirer, you had been getting a lot of them and it always brought a smile to your face. The one you were currently reading a poem they had made for you. 

I want to feel your skin,

The way lovers do.

Caress your hair as If it were mine

See the world in your eyes

Smell your love from miles away so I could never forget it.

I want to feel your skin,

More than just the surface.

Taste the flavor of your bones 

Dig deep into you blood

Infiltrate your nervous system so that I could feel you like no other.l

I want to feel your skin,

Like always you would.

Trail my hands as if they were yours

Take your last breath 

Wear your life as if it's my final decision just so I could make people smile the way you do.

I need to feel your skin,

Even if you're no more.

Drink your essence until I choke

Gagging up biles of your heart

Pouring out the metallic red on my eyes so I can see nothing but you.

I need to feel your skin,

Even if I have to take it.

Peel the layers back until you squeal

Sculpt you down because only I can paint you in this light.

I'll Write you down in my blood for that would make it useful.

I need to feel you skin,

I need You.

They must really be in love with you if this is the type of thing they send to you; you let out a content sigh. You as you fall down onto your bed. You reread the letter over and over again as you think up anything that could get you going, conjuring up fantasies of what you would do if you got your hands on your secret admirer. It's been a whole month since you started to get these written notes, and a few months before that, you found a bunch of your stuff going missing, like your bras and panties. It had crossed your mind that your admirer and your clothes thief were one and the same, but it never bothered you; in fact, it brought a heat between your legs and a flutter to your heart. You didn’t even catch yourself when you fell asleep, the letter still in your hand. 

Your admirer was watching you from one of your windows, their smile growing when they noticed that you fell asleep. You hand over the letter that he had placed in your home while you weren't there. He moved to your back window, which had a faulty lock, thanks to his handiwork, and crawled inside your home. Once he was inside, he wasted no time walking into your room.  He wished that he could have gotten to see you when you had first seen the letter but he was busy getting rid of some trash you had accumulated at your workplace. It was only some guy who was flirting with you; no one would miss him anyway.

He watches you shift in your sleep, a flutter in his chest when he looks at you, thinking it is finally time for him to claim you as his. He runs a cold hand and has your skin caressing you gently and waiting for you to stir. He crawls onto your bed. Lying beside you and staring at you while sleeping. You feel a warmth covering your body, assuming that you had subconsciously put your covers around YouTube, and then you feel the faint fanning of breathing on your face. It causes you to start to wake up to see what this is. When you open your eyes, you get started wondering why; there was a man, who you didn't know, in your bed watching you sleep. You both jump back and just stare at each other. 

“Who the fuck are you!” You throw a pillow at his face and watch him stumble back on the bed, almost falling off of it.

“Who do you think it is?” He makes no attempt to hide the fact that he was some random person in your house. But then it clicked that this wasn't just any stranger or creep, this was your stalker. 

You looked him up and down, taking in his black hair with green highlights, his grayish skin, and the blotches on his skin. He had tired eyes, and they were staring at you. He was also taking in your body and the casual clothes that you had been wearing before you got into bed. A smile creeps its way up your face before you speak. 

“What’s your name, stalker?” You crawled back into your bed and looked up at him, holding another pillow just in case he had any negative intentions, but you doubted that, knowing that your admirer had a thing for you. You looked down at the letter you had received when you got home, which was clearly a declaration of love, just like the other ones were. 

“You really want to know, you're not scared at all?” you keep staring at him, you couldn't help but think he was attractive in his own right and you couldn't be more excited to finally see your man in person for the first time. You give him a couple of eager nods and wait for him to give you his name. 

“Please tell me, I need to know my admirer's name, you've been occupying my fantasies for months now.“ you rub your thighs together, feeling the heat you did before you fell asleep. 

“Gyutaro,” his eyes drift down to you, rubbing your legs together, and he licks his lips. You test his name on your tongue. 

“Well, I hope you came here for a specific reason, Gyutaro” you asked him while still rubbing your legs together. 

“Oh, I definitely came here for a reason.” You watched his hand go down his pants, groping his cock through his pants. It was the only confirmation you needed from him, and you knew exactly what he wanted to see.

You lay back on the bed, shimming your way out of your pants, your eyes never leaving Gyutaro. Both of you are looking at each other. As you slowly move your hands down your body and between your legs. You let out a soft sigh as you bring your hand into your pants to start to touch your pussy. You watch as Gyutaro does the same with his pants and fishes his cock out of them in order to actually stroke himself. While also giving you a show, your eyes were glowering at his cock as it swayed with his hand movement. You find it hypnotic, and it is turning you even more, you can actually feel yourself getting wetter as you finger yourself. 

You try to match his pace, imaging that he was the one fucking you as you pump your fingers inside your walls. You let out moans that you didn't try to hide and looked into his eyes with love and desire as if you had been waiting for this very moment for years. Gyutaro has been inching closer to you every once in a while as he continued to jerk himself off, his facial expression seemingly torn between watching you and trying not to bust quickly that he was in front of you for real and not between a glass or closet door watching you instead. 

“Please move closer.” You let out a whine as you fully take off your underwear and sloppily work to get naked for him. He follows suit and strips out of his clothes and then crawls onto the bed and gets between your legs before resuming his movement of jacking on, now with a much better and more intimate view of you.  Pushing your fingers back down, you tease your clit while stretching out your walls so you can take him. That is exactly what you were planning in your head for him to do. 

“Move your hand” His hips were almost flushed against yours, and his cock was right over your working hand as you both pictured was next to come. 

You do as he tells you to and move your wet hand, and he takes it and brings it to his mouth, you can feel his sharp teeth brush against your fingertips. He licked your juices off your hand before letting you push his cock inside of you. A loud collision of sound escapes your lips as he bottoms out into your welcoming entrance. All of it feels better than you could have ever imagined, which you definitely have imagined. You sit up to pull him down a bit and to hold on to him but he moves quicker to hold you in place. 

“I want to see the look on your face when you cum.” he tells you, and you nod again, a bit of panting feels like the only sound you can make as he starts to move at a fast pace. It gives you no time to get used to him being in you, and you can’t complain because you are so overcome with joy. 

You let yourself be taken away into the pleasure gates as he fucked you like there was no tomorrow and that no one else could ever matter, and that’s all you could ever ask for. You were melting, your walls clenching and unclenching around his cock that was pistoning into you roughly. He was holding you down, biting your skin, huffing, puffing, and muttering claims over you. A tear ran down your eyes, and it was from how much you were enjoying every second of this intersection. You wondered what would happen after this moment you shared. Will you both start dating? He could move in with you, hope he’s thought about marriage; is he the reason people you don't like keep going missing? All those things would pop up in your head after he would thrust into you.  

"Give me everything," I moaned, my voice low and husky with desire. "Fill me with your seed, Gyutaro. I want to feel you deep inside me, claiming me as yours.” It was the first important thing you thought about asking him. 

“I plan on it.” he gives you the reassurance that you crave, and his hip movement becomes more erratic, his groans and moans more present. You know you are about to cum and that he was the only man that could possibly make you feel the way you do right now because he knows you so well. You know that he's perfect in every way, and nothing he does could make you love him any less, he's the one, and you'll both see to it that everyone who crosses your path knows it.

You wrap your legs around his hips and try to meet his thrust; he tightens his grip on your hips, his fingernails digging into your skin, causing you to let out a whimper, even if you don't want him to stop, in your face, you want what he can give you and then some. You grip his hair with a force that causes him to let out a moan, and you move in haste to eat up, bringing his lips against yours. Gyutaro was basically sucking your face, and you were doing the same back to him, you kissed messy and aggressively, and it was sure to leave your lips swollen. You bite his tongue, drawing a bit of blood, he lets out a hiss before pulling back, and being able to taste him that way causes a bright smile on your face as you savor the faint taste.

You both fall into the fiery depth of orgasms, and your bodies move flush together; Gyutaro makes sure to watch your face contort as he causes you pleasure and fills you with his essence. You were all his, and he would kill for you just to prove it.

[fatuismooches]

Dottore with an art-centred lover !! Painting, poetry, singing, you name it, but ofc you can’t practice a lot because it’s not accepted in the akademiya. Getting close to Zandik and he learns of all your hobbies and in the beginning he (of course) looks down on them. But in time he grows to appreciate all the poetry and songs toy write for him …

(Angst) but now that you’re so sick…there’s no way you can practice all your art. So you’re left to wallow in your uselessness while prime rereads that book of poetry you wrote him. And he realizes how much he missed your art <3

It was no secret that Akademiya looked down on the arts, and consequently, that thinking had negatively seeped deep into Sumerian society's views on artistic expression. Therefore your love for the arts was only allowed to linger while you were a kid before it was quickly squashed by those around you. Still, you continued to practice in secret with critters and strange hat-wearing creatures in the forest, who always complimented your art. There were times you sneak out to the Grand Bazaar, but seeing how often the Akademiya hassles the poor performers, you had to limit your visits.

And so, your secret hobby followed you to the Akademiya. In the beginning, it was easy to put your mind to paper, considering your roommate, Zandik, was either not home, or simply did not spare a glance at what you were doing. But as time continued to go by, you realized that in a way, you two were more similar than you thought - both shunned for things people couldn't understand. Of course, eventually, Zandik got curious enough to pry into what you spent your time doing, and although his reaction wasn't surprising, it was still disheartening.

"You have an intricate mind that can keep up with me, but you'd rather spend your time doing such pointless things. I don't understand," his praise turned into words you were familiar with.

"Have you ever considered this is why I am able to understand you? Zandik... I would appreciate it if you could try to do the same for me."

It was a tough road ahead for Zandik, but he loved you too much not to at least take up your request. And so he bore witness to your labor of love, staying silent most of the time. Occasionally you asked for his opinions or thoughts, but nothing he had was really helpful, but you appreciated the effort nonetheless. He thinks you just wanted to probe his brain. After a while, you start reading your poetry out loud to Zandik.

Unfortunately, he doesn't catch on to the fact the poems and songs are about him until about your dozenth one in, blushing at how skillfully you manage to delicately weave such loving words about him. Or when he opens his notebook to a drawing of you two, distracting him from his work for a little bit (an extreme feat!) And on days he can't sleep, you hum a little tune for him, soothing his aching head. From then on, he understands, and not a word of his criticism was ever heard again, rather, even gruff encouragement is offered when you're stuck.

But now even his sweet words are rendered useless in the face of your illness. All those things you love to create - your body and mind simply won't allow you most of the time, no matter how much you try. Dottore can only sigh when he finds you ripped up all your failed attempts at your art, and carefully tape them back together to store with his collection.

He needs to make sure you have a good day soon. Maybe if he rereads your book of poetry for the one hundredth and sixty-seventh time, he could come up with his own little thing and surprise you.

[m00nchildwrites]

Random headcanons I have of the LADS guys:

I hope you guys enjoy this little head cannon post that I have about the guys. I'm going to put it under a read more just because it's quite long. It is no triggering content or adult content. All fluff all feels.

Enjoy.

Sylus:

Keeps journals. He has bookcases upon bookcases, filled with journals. All of them are leatherbound, but none of them match. Varying sizes and thicknesses various dark colors from maroon to dark green to black to golden and everything in between. All handwritten, all cursive with expensive ink dipped pens.

He also writes poetry that tends to be more prosy. Each of the poems are about you in some way, whether it's a memory or something about you that he misses or fears about the memories of you fading.

When he meets you again, the poems become hopeful and longing and eventually evolve back into love poems

Kioso tens to write song lyrics and unfortunately has performed one or two for you.

Yes, it's the thought that counts, but the poor man can't carry a tune. Still, the words are so sweet that you end up tearing up anyways.

And no matter how poorly he sings, you will never turn down him reading one of his poems to you or yes, even singing one of the songs that he wrote.

Zayne:

I see Zayne also as someone who keeps journals. Although his are different than Sylas'.

All of Zane's journals are on a singular, large, wall-to-wall bookshelf in his Home Office. All are perfectly identical. Each is sleek, a leatherbound, and either black or dark gray. Think like a moleskin journal, and if you weren't him, you wouldn't know which one is which, but he knows exactly which one is which, for he keeps them in chronological order.

Each of the pages is handwritten by pen in his slightly slanted, messy but legible doctor's handwriting.

Each starting from the first one on the top shelf details, everything that he can remember about 1 of yours and his pass lives together.

And rather, morbidly an excruciating detail heed. He writes out exactly how you died in the events leading up to and afterwards.

You might wonder why in the world does he do this? It's because he is studying every instance that went wrong and trying to find a loophole in a way out of the the curse that Astra has places upon you both.

In these journals, your name is never mentioned, and they are written out like case notes from his patients. So whenever you do stumble upon them, write them off. As simply him keeping detailed case notes of patient's life and death, since all of the deaths have to do with something with the heart or heart trauma, our heart disease or our heart failure of some kind.

It is not until either you regain your memories or zayn. Finally tells you about your past lives and his that you also learn the true story about the journals. Until then, they are simply a collection of case studies in his home office.

Rafayel:

Rafael has no need for journals because his memories he brings to life through his paintings.

Let's be honest.He also doesn't have the patience to sit down and fill up a bunch of journals. Not because his hyperactive persona is true, but because if he allows himself to sit still long. Enough with his thoughts, he gets real dark, real quick. This man wears a mask for the world, but also for himself.

That said he does sing.

Shocker, right? He's a mermaid or a siren or both. However, I have the head cannon that he can switch the siren thing on and off. And so is fully capable of simply singing, however, for him, because he is Lemurian, his "simple singing" is etherealy gorgeous.

Because of this, he only does it in the privacy of his own home when no one is around, except for that short little stint, that he had as an opera singer. But of course, that was for darker purposes and not for enjoyment.

He sings songs that he has written about you. All of them are in ancient tongues, long since passed and faded away to time. And all of them from the different lifetimes that he met you in.

Some songs he sings when he's feeling especially heartbroken and caught up in memories of the past, or overwhelmed with his feelings for you, and those songs are sung in his native tongue- Lemurian.

At first, whenever he is painting or in the zone, doing something and drifting off into a daydream, he hums around you.

Eventually, however, as he allows himself to trust that you're not going anywhere this time and uh relaxes his guard. Enough to allow himself to fall for you again and let you in. Eventually, one night when it's just the 2 of you and the windows are open and the ocean breeze is billowing the sheer, white curtains of his livingroom, the tune He's humming to you, as you lean back against his chest slowly begins to have words.

You don't know the words that he sang, they feel ancient.

But you feel the emotion in the words and by the end of it, you have tears running down your face and the overwhelming urge to hold him tightly and never let him go

The second time he sings for you is less heartbreaking and more warmth and an overwhelming feeling of love.

On days when it's just the two of you, he will sing just for you.

Xavier:

Xavier does not keep journals. However, he did enjoy his captain logs on his ship. And so that is a habit that he has kept with him.

Every once in a while, he will go back to a ship and and enter a new captain's log. All of it has to do with information about you and him trying to find a way to save you from the eventual Fate that awaits in the future on planet Philos.

Periodically a poem will also make an appearance one that he read in a book that stood out to him and reminded him of you.

Sometimes, before you two get close, he'd go to the ship and listen to his pass logs. And remember the you he left behind on that dying planet.

Xavier also sings, and he actually sings quite well for a human. So well, in fact, that one time karaoke with the hunters association, an agency attempted to scout him. (I picture his voice like Keshi- soft spot. If you haven't heard it, listen to it.)

This hidden talent comes as surprise to you. The first time that you hear him, add that karaoke event.

Of course. You knew that he enjoyed music because you often caught him humming when he was doing things around the house or helping you chop vegetables whenever y'all cook together. There was also his record collection that was a dead giveaway. As well.

He doesn't write songs for you, but he will sing songs to you. That make him think of you at first, it's subtle and without him really letting you know, but that's what he's doing. Perhaps you think the 2 of you are just playing around and both of you are singing songs that come on the radio. But eventually, as you get closer, it becomes clear, but it's not by chance- the songs that he picks to sing.

Your favorite is when he sings to you softly. As you rock back-and-forth, slow dancing in your apartment or his or on the balcony, the location doesn't matter.

Somehow, some way swaying softly to the sound of his voice feels like coming home after a long, long journey.

He does also occasionally read to you a poem.

And sometimes you find out the poem, he said aloud to you was actually written by him, and eventually you learn that they were all about you.

[bibbityboppitybillyharvgrove]

Secret Admirer - S.Snape

Summary - Snape had been receiving notes, poems and gifts all year. They were just sitting on his desk waiting for him, he could only speculate who had been putting these things on his desk, until one day, he catches this secret admirer red handed.

Pairings : Severus Snape x Professor!Fem!Reader

Warnings : Female Reader, use of Y/N, not proofread

This is based on this request by @acupnoodle Thank you for the request!

Author's Note : I had a bit of a hard time writing this so please let me know if there was any mistakes or if there was a bit that didn't make sense. I can only become a better writer if I get feedback on how I can improve!!

My requests are open!

my masterlist

Feedback is welcomed and encouraged

Enjoy!

Severus was always curious about who had been leaving little notes and gifts on his desk. Now, he wasn’t complaining, his admirer had brightened his day every single time something was left on his desk. Even the students had taken notice that whenever there was a note or a little wrapped gift on his desk, he’d become happier, chipper even. 

He had no idea who this admirer was and he so desperately wanted to know, he thought he recognized the handwriting but convinced himself that he was delusional. Even one of the students had recognized the handwriting, saying it was Professor Y/L/N’s handwriting. He hoped that it was actually her but he didn’t want to get his hopes up. 

“Professor Snape?” He heard Hermione’s voice from behind him as he was getting himself ready for the lesson.

“Yes, Miss Granger?” He acknowledged the girl, still facing the blackboard.

“Who do you think is leaving you those gifts?”

“I’m not sure.”

“Not even a guess.”

“No. Let’s start the lesson shall we?”

That seemed to be his routine, until one day one of the house elves had delivered a wrapped box with a poem attached in the middle of one of his lessons. He eagerly took the box from the elf, thanking them before sitting at his desk, gently pulling the note off. 

Severus,

I admire watching how passionate you get when you talk about something you like. I admire everything you do, you’re a great man, a great professor and a great person. Anyone would be lucky to have you in their life.

Love,

Your Admirer

The students watched as a smile spread across the man’s face, color gracing his pale cheeks as his eyes scanned the paper over and over again.

“Are you blushing, professor?” Theodore Nott teased. Severus ignored the teasing as he opened the box carefully. Inside of the box was a signed book from his favorite potioneer, the color on his cheeks darkened even more as he handled the book with care. “Snape is blushing!” Theo pointed out to the class. The girls all giggled at the professor and the boys all let out teasing “oohs”. He quickly shut them up and continued the lesson.

The next day, he had decided out of the blue to go to his classroom early. He heard shuffling around in his room which put him on high alert, he peeked into the room only to find a woman placing something on his desk. When he looked closer, he noticed that it was Y/N Y/L/N, the professor he so desperately hoped was his admirer.

He didn’t understand why she chose him, he was cold and mean, he was unfriendly and sour, so why him? He stood by the door and waited until she turned around. She let out a shriek of fright at seeing the man she was leaving a gift right by the door. “Severus! You scared me!” She gulped. She hadn’t expected him to come to his classroom so early, her heart pounding in her chest.

“You’re my admirer. I should have known that was your handwriting! I second-guessed myself,” He admitted, “I was hoping to catch you one day, ask you on a date but I was too nervous.”

“No need to be nervous Sev. I’d love to go on a date with you!”

The two professors smiled at each other, walking towards one another. “I hoped it was you,” He smiled at her.

“Oh really? And why is that Professor?” She teased as she grabbed his hands.

“Keep it up, darling,” He taunted, a smirk overtaking his smile.

“Keep up what? I’m not doing anything,” She said innocently. He leaned down closer to her, giving her the space to decide if she wanted to lean in or lean back. She, too, leaned in, connecting their lips into a shy and gentle kiss. 

They pulled away for a moment before leaning back, kissing each other with more certainty, more passion. Severus letting go of her hands only to move them to her waist, pulling her body flush to his, her arms wrapping around his neck, hands fiddling with his jet black hair.

The sudden cheers and applause had caused them to jump apart, Y/N accidentally biting his lip in surprise causing it to bleed. “Oh Merlin! I’m sorry! Are you okay?” She rushed out, inspecting his lip. Severus couldn’t help but chuckle, wiping away the blood with his cloak sleeve.

“I’m fine, darling. I promise. You’re going to be late for your class, I’ll see you tonight,” He assured her, placing a gentle kiss on her forehead before sending her on her way to her classroom. 

The students taking their seats were still cheering and chatting about what they saw as they sat. “Snape is gonna get laid!” Theodore called out causing laughter to spread throughout the class.

“That is not appropriate Mr. Nott. I will be taking 5 points from Slytherin for that comment,” Severus told the boy, taking his own seat at his desk as he settled himself for the lesson. A permanent smile graced his face as he taught his classes throughout the day. Word spreading quickly that the Potions master and the most beloved professor were going on a date later that day. Bets pertaining to when the pair were getting married started even though they hadn’t even had their first date.

The students may not have enjoyed Severus Snape as a professor but they knew that Professor Y/L/N was the best partner for him. They wished nothing but the best for the pair.

Taglist

@bigsimperika

[fodenswhore]

🪴Mistletoe

{In which you and Billy decorate a Christmas tree}

Billy was a bully and low-key irritating but he’s so easy to write for and he was sorta cute.

masterlist

Christmas had finally arrived in Avonlea. The whole town was buzzing with excitement and christmas spirit. A blanket of snow covered the usually crop filled fields and the lake was frozen with glittery ice. Residents of the town were baking cookies, making pies, decorating their homes, buying presents and your school was even putting on its own play.

As you didn't want to participate in the school production (much to the dismay of Rachel Lynde), you had been set the task of decorating the tree that would sit snuggled in the corner of the stage - a job you were more than satisfied with. However, your momentary joy was cut short when you realised Billy Andrews was to be helping you.

"Why do we even need two people decorating one small christmas tree?" You muttered to yourself as you collected a box of decorations from the floor and moved towards the tree. “I'm perfectly capable of doing it myself."

"What was that Y/N?" A voice called. You groaned quietly to yourself as Billy strode up to you, "Need help with that box? It looks rather heavy." He said, trying to grab the box of decorations from your hands.

You pulled the box away from his grip and scowled at him, "I'm quite alright. If I was in need of your assistance, I would've asked for it."

He held up his hands in mock surrender, "Right, right." Anne and Diana, who were practicing their lines a few feet away, giggled at your encounter.

Your relationship with Billy (if you could even call it that) was rather complicated. He adored you and you couldn’t stand him. Now, you probably wouldn't dislike him so much if he wasn't so irritating. He persisted in trailing around you like a lost puppy, delivering 'anonymous' love poems to your desk every morning and offering help wherever you didn't need it. Your friends (especially Ruby) thought it was sweet, you, on the other hand, found it both annoying and flustering.

And so it was just your luck that Miss Stacey had put you two together. Although, you were starting to wonder if maybe Billy had asked her to - oh you hoped not.

You settled on the floor next to the tree with the box of decorations and started to rifle through the box. Billy plonked himself down next to you and began to do the same. You had managed to sit in silence for at least five minutes and were just beginning to hang decorations on the tree when Billy pulled something out of the box and dangled it in front of your face. "Why look Y/N, mistletoe."

You swatted the mistletoe out of your face and frowned at the cheeky grin on Billy's face, "I'm not giving you a kiss."

"Why not?" He said with a smirk, holding the mistletoe above your head.

You furrowed your brows and shuffled backwards away from him, "Because it's you."

Billy held his hand mockingly to his heart and lowered the mistletoe, "I'm wounded."

He fake pouted at you and you rolled your eyes and shook your head, "You're quite impossible, you know that?"

Billy shrugged his shoulders lazily, "So i've been told, many a time, by you."

"If you weren't so intolerable I wouldn't have to tell you every time I saw you." You stated pointedly, pulling out some old candles from the box.

"You have a way with words Y/N." Billy chuckled lightly and smirked at you. He held the mistletoe up again and moved towards you, “Now, what about this kiss?"

[where-dreams-dwell]

Dexter is a cautionary tale of the need to accept discomfort as a part of life, with Emma as his contrast and aspirational example.

Throughout the show Emma embodies determination and self assurance. The only reason she thinks she can change the world is.. because why couldn’t she? In contrast Dexter has no idea what he wants and kind of resents having to even think about it, hence his jumping between careers and looking for purpose for the whole show.

While Em knows what she wants emotionally (the satisfaction or having made a difference, the achievement of doing what she always wanted) but isn’t sure on the specifics of what that will look like (I’ll write plays, no write poetry, no I’ll teach, okay no I’ll write a book), Dexter knows the specifics (I’ll be rich and famous) but doesn’t know what he wants emotionally (‘what will that look like?’ ‘I don’t know’).

While Dex is always running from uncomfortable feelings Em faces then head on and comes out the other side, able to learn from them.

As Dex is travelling to put off making long term decisions, Em has taken the first opportunity to do what she wants: writing, be it books, poems or in this instance plays.

On holiday Dex can’t allow himself to admit that he fancy’s Em and to leave it at that, he has to run from the honesty and vulnerability of that moment by adding on ‘but I pretty much fancy everyone’. In doing this you could argue that he looses his chance with her for several years, where as Emma’s confidence could have resulted in them getting together much sooner.

Dex misses his mothers last birthday because he doesn’t want to face reality. Instead of reacting to the fear and anger and pain of her diagnosis by spending every moment he can with her, or sitting down to have heart to heart talks with her, or helping her out in any meaningful way Dex runs away and numbs himself with substances, and is passed out for the little time he is in her presence.

When he’s nervous people won’t (or already don’t) like him on TV he again turns to substances to numb his feelings, and (instead of taking Em’s advice to ignore them) looks for reassurance from hangers on who don’t actually know him that well. He can’t sit in that worry/fear/discomfort so he finds a way to stop feeling.

When Dex’s marriage falls apart we see him running away to Paris to visit Em. And sure there are ulterior motives here (his hope and assuming that this could be the start of their romantic relationship) but the writer shows him literally traveling away from the country where his failed marriage, child and previous life were as he is show to be angrily talking about his divorce. As an image it appears like he’s running away from the reality of the divorce or running to Em for a distraction. It definitely supports Ems assumptions that he’s not serious about a relationship with her; she’s seen this behaviour in Dex before.

It’s even funny how in small ways we don’t see him handle upsetting things until the very end. Talking about his first marriage and the production the day became? Dex admits he didn’t want to rock the boat so he didn’t fight anything/reject anything/ have much say at all in his wedding. Sylvie drops off Jasmine? Dex is still at the cafe so Em is the one managing slightly awkward small talk. Jasmine practising her violin? We get a brief moment with Dex too but mainly it’s Em sitting through the recitals. In that last episode when they’re struggling with fertility, Em is the one who sits down and talks out her anger and fear and worry, where as Dex (who probably knew what the root of it all was) was happy to leave her to process it how she need to and support her while she did. If she hadn’t brought it up he wouldn’t have said anything.

That’s not becisarily a bad thing (Dex could have known that Em needed to process it herself before talking to him) but it is interesting that the writers engineer Dex to avoid all these moments of emotional discomfort. It reinforces his characterisation of being avoidant when confronted with conflict.

In contrast we kind of constantly see Em having to face hard moments and working through them.

Don’t know what to do with your life? Move to London to try and aim to work in your dream field. London life and restaurant job not going the way you planned? Commit to Dex’s suggestion of teacher training. Time to confess a secret? Here’s a hugely personal one about my past feelings for you. Past crush admits he kind-if fancy’s you? Stick to being honest about your past feelings and don’t take the opening to downplay them. You feel shit about your life and your secret affair? Well let’s turn that into motivation to finally write that book.

Not happy with your long term partner? End the relationship.

Emma’s whole confrontation with Ian is a masterclass in facing difficult conversations and emotions, being vulnerable and open and honest about your feelings, and finding empathy for another outside your point of view. And look what she gains from facing that hard in comfortable conversation? Closure, and a kind of friendship, one that lasts even after she dies.

When Dex confessed that he hoped they would start a romantic relationship in Paris, Em sits him down and starts that hard conversation about how she doesn’t think that is 1) what he even wants and 2) would work between them. She doesn’t brush off of hide from the conversation. And then when she has more information and time to think she commits to Dex.

Even after they sleep together there’s a scene of Em laying the ground rules, making it clear to Dex what she will and won’t stand in this relationship. That’s an awkward conversation to have but Em doesn’t hesitate and makes sure he knows from the get go what she expects and deserves. The writers are constantly showing us ‘Em doesn’t run from uncomfortable feelings’.

And then the tragic twist of fate: Emma is gone and Dexter finally has to learn to live with emotional discomfort. He can’t keep running because there is no escaping this, not like he did with his mum. Like he says to Imaginary-Emma ‘why would time change anything’. He is going to feel like this forever, there is no escaping it. Finally he is learning to face it, manage it, and work through it.

Of course Emma is far more than a literally device and is her own layered and well established character. But in this regard for Dex it’s almost as if she’s the final lesson for him to work through to grow up enough so he can eventually choose to return to the place they met.

And it could even come across as a reward for him; in learning to live with those difficult emotions, his reward is being able to remember Emma fondly, and to return to the place they met to seek out those memories. The memories are bittersweet, but now he remembers Emma as she was and not how she never got to be.

Like his dad said, he is eventually able to ‘live [his] life as if she were still here’ but in order to do that he first had to accept that she was gone.

[bitesizedpoetry]

hello x

what are your favourite poetry blogs?

I did not expect this innocuous question to make me so sad. Because I went through my following list and this is a snippet of what stared back:

Almost all my favourite poetry blogs are either inactive or have been deactivated, and now I'm wishing I saved their poems that took my heart in their hands and shook it like a snow globe.

Still, here are my favourite active (at least within the year) poetry blogs in no particular order: also included some excerpts of their writing. And hopefully I didn't miss anyone. If I did, might have thought you were inactive, but I still love your poetry, promise!

@prasannawrites "You offer me your hand to hold & I look to your palm, creating a deity out of this" "…creating small gods from the mundane…" "How could I fit words into a prayer, when I can just as easily warm your hand on a cold night?"

@palladiumfragments "you're only worth something when you're suffering" "you have become the women in the mythology you loved so much as a child." "a dagger is the only thing that awaits you on the altar. you can reinvent yourself all you want but the rot is in the thread."

@amiablesummer "You laugh and laugh, lie down on the kitchen floor where you're not meant to lie, let alone laugh, and you're not meant to die there either. But what if we did, what if we stayed on the floor of the kitchen forever until the world burned from the too-bright sun and the oceans drowned all our utensils, one by one?"

@haikkun "I was a bird once / Tore my feathers in a dream / Though I beheld six kinds of light / Could only chase them via screams"

@kiisuuumii "i am still, just a small rabbit, fur grown in, black, and it is in my nature, still, to be taken, simply, as prey…" "…in the willingness to succumb to nature…" "i place my neck between the jaws of the wolf."

@ellisnightingale "It’s cloudy out, I like that best. Rain dusts the windowpane. So light it hardly makes a sound and the sky is dark again. I’m sure it’s cold but I won’t check, I’ll stay here where it’s dry. I don’t need sun on days like this."

@conversationswithme "I remember more this time, 1:52 in the morning / 10/29 - my cat is dead and I can’t whisper the / ugly in his ear. I have to write it here. / for me. / for you. / anyone. / I remember - that pungent, burnt smell - that / I can’t forget, and now knowing it / was the meat of a small person, / known as me. / I heard she grew up okay, though."

@cherokeeghostwriter "I am / four hours of sleep / meets, uncounted cups of coffee / meets, my fascination with the rain / dripping from the roof"

@memories-beneath-the-skin This entire poem

@leechteethwrites "Some things I could have never prepared for…" "The way the sky stretched itself after I no longer believed in heaven." "…I am still haunted by unshakable cruelties…" "The parts of my mother's girlhood I failed to rescue."

@sincerelygarden "I look at myself and lose my mind" "My instinct is telling me to find shelter / I can not blanket myself with this skin-" "I am in it, I know this. I can not crawl out, I am in it, I know…" "I look at myself and she doesn't make sense to me but I remember when she did"

I remember being asked similar questions years ago, and here are some of my answers when my other favourite poets/writers were still active. Please go through their archives, and you'll find so many hidden treasures. (And if any of them see this now, please start writing & sharing your work again soon. And to the active ones now, please continue writing & sharing, and I see some of you are starting to not be active now too...don't do that pls & ty)

If anyone has recommendations or if you have a poetry blog, please let me know in the replies or reblogs (so that more people can see this, maybe?), or message me privately. This ask made me realise I need more poetry blogs to follow.

[ssentimentals]

joshua + first morning together

usually it doesn't take long for joshua to fall asleep, most of the times he's in morpheus arms the second his head hits the pillow. but this night is different and even when tiredness succumbs him to sleep, he stays wide awake, alert as he's never been before. your chest rises and falls steadily; you are probably seeing a very nice dream if smile on your lips is anything to go by. joshua selfishly hopes he is there, in your dream. hopes he is the reason of your smile even in your sleep.

this situation is a bit surreal to him. you know when you waited so long for something to happen, longed for it, ached for it with all your heart - that when it does happen you just kind of stay in complete disbelief? this is what joshua feels watching your sleeping form on his bed. he cautiously reaches out to your hand and his heart stops somewhere in his throat, when your fingers immediately wrap around his. even in your sleep you are choosing to hold on to him. even in your sleep you gravitate towards him, your body inclined to his side more - how can he sleep if you are like that? how is he supposed to close his eyes and miss this view? how can he stop thinking of what it means to both of you? he spent whole night lost in his thoughts, in assumptions that when sunlight illuminates your room, joshua only blinks in surprise, shocked by how quickly the time passed. you frown a little at the brightness and his first instinct is to stand up and close the blinds but that would require letting go of your hand and he hesitates, looking at your joined fingers. he doesn't like it, the whole letting go thing. if he could, joshua would have held your hands all the time; until he'd have memorized all the little bumps and tiny scars on your skin, until he'd be able to recoginize your hand from the million others. joshua gently caresses your skin with his thumb and thinks he can write thousands of poems on this feeling, on the tenderness of your skin, on the warmth of your palm, on how your fingers fill the slots between his so perfectly well-

'josh?' you mumble, squinting a little. your voice is hoarse from the sleep and you clear it out, trying again: 'josh?'

'i'm here,' he answers quietly. with his free hand he reaches out and smoothes your hair lovingly. 'it's too early, bub, go back to sleep.'

it seems like you have other plans, cause you turn around and move, making him let go of your hand. joshua thinks it's a bit humilating how he instantly misses the feel of it. is it okay to be so..so into you? doesn't that make him weak? less of a man if he is that whipped? sometimes he starts thinking about it but then you do something - anything at all - like smile at him or kiss him and these thoughts fly out of the window. he'd gladly be considered weak if it means he can have you like that.

'why are you awake?' you grumble, fighting to get your legs out of the blanket. joshua's heart stammers as you move close, closer - until you are practically cuddled up to his side. 'have you even slept?'

'i-' he starts and promptly forgets all the words when you lift your leg and put it on top of his like it's the most natural thing in the world. 'um.'

lack of answer makes you look up and squint at him. you take a good look of his too awake eyes and a growing suspicion starts to form in your head: 'you have slept this night, haven't you? don't tell me that you were awake all this time.' when joshua only looks at you sheepishly, you groan loudly: 'oh my god, josh, why? were you not comfortable? is my mattress too hard? i'm so sorr-'

'no,' he instantly interrupts, gathering you in his arms. usually he's hesitant with his affections towards you, but nothing makes him act bold as you thinking that you did something wrong or the need to calm you down. 'no-no, princess, i just had a lot on my mind. don't be sorry.'

pet name and his cuddles make you smile and you nuzzle your head into his chest, hearing his steady heartbeat underneath. 'a lot on your mind?' you yawn, stubbornly trying to shake off remnants of your dreams. 'what could possibly have you staying up all night?'

with you in his arms, it's easier to be honest, easier to shake off the mask and just be himself. he leans in, places small kiss on top of your head and wraps his arms around you tighter. 'i was thinking of you,' he replies sincerely, having nothing to hide.

he can tell that you're trying to look up but find it hard to do so because of the angle, so he moves you both until you're laying side to side, facing each other. sleep is not gone from your eyes and he coos at the way you try to stay present for him. 'is that what i do to you? make you lose your sleep, hm?'

it's meant to be a joke or at least a teasing, but joshua replies seriously, tucking one hair strand behind your ear: 'you don't know half of the things you do to me.'

at that your eyes fly open, more awake than they've been before. joshua meets your eyes readily, holding eye contact for as long as you need to understand the meaning behind his words. he can tell that you are searching for something and he hopes you find there his desire to wake up like that every day. to have these kind of mornings with you forever. to have the opportunity to hold you like this, to not sleep because he's too busy staring at you and coming with terms that he can now have this. these nights, these mornings - he can now have them al.

'good things, i hope?' you ask, cuddling closer until tips of your noses touch.

joshua huffs, smiling. 'the best things, bub.'

you smile, content. 'now can we go back to sleep? let's wake up at a normal time like normal people do.' joshua nods, reaching out for the blanket to cover you both, when you stop him: 'no, too hot, leave it.'

'oh,' joshua drops the blanket and also starts to extract himself from your arms, thinking that hugging would also make you uncomfortable in this temperature, but you stop him here as well, frowning. 'you said it's too hot-'

'for the blanket, but not for you,' it's clear that you are losing patience with him not getting what you want and you wanting to sleep. 'c'mon, hold me close, hug me.' when he does as instructed you sigh, satisfied. 'that's it. and never let go.'

joshua tighens his hold on you, swallowing hard. if only you knew that given the chance, he'd never let you go. he kisses your forehead and mutters: 'i won't. sleep tight, love. i'll wake you up for the breakfast.'

you don't reply, already dead to the world and he only chuckles affectionately. 'i love you,' he whispers into your hair before finally also closing his eyes and succumbing into the sleep.

a/n: i think i hurt myself with this one, so why not let you all cry with me too :') - nini

check out my other works here and i think my tag list is rather old, so if you want to be added, let me know! <3

[luvfy0dor]

"We're gonna be timeless !!" ♡⁠˖ BSD x GN!Reader ੈ✩‧₊˚

╰┈➤ Fyodor Dostoevsky, Chuuya Nakahara, Nikolai Gogol

Warning; Spoilers for mersault arc/Fyodors means of communication in his part, soft!Fyodor bc I am goin thru it, relationship intolerance, Nikolais bit isn't in exact correlation w/ the song

Description; Drabbles inspired by Timeless by Taylor Swift

A/N; Writing this while trying to figure out what to do for another fic help I'm so nervous the person isn't gonna like it but we ball 🫡 in Nikolais part I tried avoiding saying balls like it was the plague but yk

Love Letters w/ Fyodor Dostoevsky

˚₊· ͟͟͞͞➳❥ “I would've read your love letters every single night, and prayed to God you'd be comin' home alright”

• His love letters are romantic and very detailed, making sure he conveys exactly how much he misses you. He likes to write you short poems, understanding how much your heart swoons at the sweet and romantic words.

• Fyodor writes to you while he's in Yokohama, telling you how his plans are going and his estimated time of arrival at home. He continues this habit, even when in Mersault. He sends letters to you via the manipulated vampire guards, instructing them to take great care of the thin envelopes.

Scenario !! ˚₊· ͟͟͞͞➳❥

Your heart beats quickly as you made your way to your mailbox to check for a letter from your lover; already prepared for the slight sadness you'd experience should the small compartment be void of a note, yet still excited for the possibility of receiving one.

You excitedly open the door to the mailbox, grabbing the numerous envelopes that filled it. Sifting through them, you start to loose hope before your eyes land on the slightly sloppy handwriting of your boyfriend. You drop the various other things on the table, including bills and junk mail in order to pry open the letter excitedly. You make sure to do it carefully though as not to rip anything.

Once you've successfully separated the paper from the envelope, you lay down on the couch on your front while giggling excitedly. You unfold the paper and start to read the comforting and familiar handwriting, feeling as though this letter was a warm and sweet hug from the Russian man.

“My dearest, Y/N,

I know I restate the same thoughts in every letter I send to you, but I truly miss you more than anything in the outside world, including my freedom. I am perfectly fine in captivity, but it truly makes my heart ache to be without my love for so long. I hope you are doing well and holding up without me, not because I doubt your individuality, but I know just how much you miss me. It is the same way for me in this prison. Even with Dazais company, my heart doesn't feel nearly as full as it does when you are around, my dear. However, when our plan succeeds, we will get the happily ever after we deserve. As for our plans, they are going as intended currently.

I cannot wait to embrace you again and to feel the reassuring sensation of your breathing against my skin and feel your arms wrapped around me so tightly and lovingly. Though I would have went about my plans regardless of your support or not, I still appreciate you staying and supporting this, although I can only imagine it has caused you much stress. No worries though, my dear, we will prevail in the end no matter the obstacles. In the meantime, here is an excerpt from a poem I memorized many years ago, I feel it may catch your interest and reassure you a bit.

Wait for me, and I’ll be back,

Disregard the fate,

In the morning with my bag,

Should you only wait.

They will hardly understand,

How I could survive.

Waiting me from foreign land,

You have saved my life.

Let them say that it’s too late.

What you feeling tells?

I’ll be back, because you wait

Like nobody else.

Again, I miss you dearly. Just in case I needed to rephrase it, my heart will not rest until you are back in my presence, for I feel our souls are intertwined. I cannot wait to reunite with with you, my love. I will see you soon.

Sincerely, Fyodor Dostoevsky”

Your heart couldn't help but flutter as you held the letter to your chest, having rolled over onto your back. Your face is warm with blush as you smile and laugh. It was beyond you how Fyodor could remember all of the information he knew, as well as numerous languages and poetry, but you certainly weren't complaining. After all, your boyfriends sweet sayings made your day every time without fail. With every letter he sent, you only became more impatient for his return.

Eloping w/ Chuuya Nakahara

˚₊· ͟͟͞͞➳❥ “And run away and left it all behind, you still would've been mine, we would've been timeless”

• Eloping with Chuuyas is such a fulfilling act, especially when you don't have people whispering in your ear about how dangerous it could be.

Scenario !! ˚₊· ͟͟͞͞➳❥

Romantic relationships with port mafia executives as an outsider or regular civilian were frowned upon in the organization, meaning if you and Chuuya were going to be together, you needed to be sneaky about it. The port mafia had connections all over the city, which really limited your options for dates, but you were both content with just lounging in each other's homes.

You loved leaning against his chest on his couch, a movie playing softly in the background as you both cuddled together. You liked cooking with him in your kitchen, making a mess together while giggling and then having to clean it up together. Every time you would just sit in his arms in your back yard, watching the wind blow the flowers and leaves around, was a memory with Chuuya that you were grateful for.

So, when your lover proposed the idea of elopement to you, you were over the moon. You had always wanted to marry him, youve know that he was your soulmate from the get go. Even in a billion lifetimes, you felt as though you would find each other repeatedly. You said yes, ofcourse, and started planning immediately.

It had gone exactly according to plan, too. The both of you wore rather nice clothing for the actual ceremony, exchanging pretty rings and slipping them on to one anothers fingers. The kiss you shared, the first one of your elopement, was like no other. It felt sweeter with emotion and certainly tasted that way, too, because of Chuuyas cherry chapstick. You held each other's hands tightly as you quickly walked out of the courthouse, getting into the car that had been packed with as many necessary belongings as possible, including but not limited to clothing, legal documents, and money.

Sure, the luxury of a port mafia salary was one that would probably be missed by the both of you, allowing a nicer place to stay and finer wines to drink, but you could live with Chuuya in a rundown shack for all he cared. As long as he was with you, he would be perfectly happy. Chuuya is a romantic at heart under his tougher exterior, only letting bits and pieces of that romanticism slip through the cracks.

Chuuya drove with you down long and winding roads, the both of you deciding to end the day by stargazing while sitting on the trunk of the car. You sat on Chuuyas lap, his face pressed against your back. He drew soft shapes on any part of skin within his reach, even tracing out letters and words, spelling terms of endearment such as "my love".

"You know, I don't doubt one bit that mafia affiliates could be lurkin' around here, but it's much less likely. Something like this would be frowned upon real hard back home, which is why I feel I will never regret this decision." He says, speaking straight from his heart, not caring about vulnerability anymore. He had you, and you would be the very last person to take advantage of such a delicate thing.

A grin tugs at the corner of your lips with enough force to change your facial expression immediately. You leaned back into his touch, your hand caressing his that sat against your abdomen, hugging you closer to him. "I won't ever regret it either. I'll never regret any decision I make for you, my love." You softly murmur, looking up at the stars in the beautiful, blue night sky. The blue night sky filled with glamorous and shiny stars, yet they could never compare to the shimmery glint in Chuuyas eyes every time he came around you. The blue night sky that provided a calming darkness in the world, allowing you to further relax against your, now husband's, body.

"I'll always love you, darlin', I'm so happy I can openly have you now." He speaks quietly against your shoulder, almost whispering. You reach your hand back to gently touch his hair a bit. "Me too, my love. Me too."

Crowded Streets w/ Nikolai Gogol

˚₊· ͟͟͞͞➳❥ “In another life, you still would've turned my head, even if we met on a crowded street in 1944”

• Should you meet Nikolai during one of his street performances and accidentally fall victim to his juggling skills (or lack there of) , he would look forward to seeing you around the town and in the streets again to make up for his fumble with an entertaining mini-show.

Scenario !! ˚₊· ͟͟͞͞➳❥

Walking through the busy streets, your eyes fell upon a tall man, dressed as a jester while standing on the sidewalk. "A street performer." You simply thought, trying to discreetly glance at him without making eye contact and avoid the make believe obligation to give him money. You noticed that he was juggling, tossing three red balls in the rotational pattern while blabbering on about random things to passersby.

You lowered your head as to not look at him or make eye contact as you started to pass him, before you're head jerks right back up at the loud man's voice saying "watch out!". Right in front of your face was one of the red, foam spheres, kept motionless between two bony, lanky fingers covered in the cloth of the mans red gloves.

"Aw, I'm real sorry, darlin'! That sure was close, wasn't it?" He says, his bright, toothy grin glimmering in the sunlight. You nod, inhaling and steadying your heart rate.

"Yeah, no worries though, it didn't actually hit me." You say, a bit embarrassed by the situation for seemingly no reason. He slinks backwards into a completely upright position. "I wouldn't have let it hit you regardless, sweet cheeks." He says as he creates a portal and tosses his props into the yellow opening. He rests his fingers on his chin while examining you. "You've got quite a lovely complexion! You must be quite popular when it comes to romantic affairs, I'm sure of it." He compliments. The other people bustling by make you topple a bit as their shoulders bump into yours. Nikolai gently grabs your hand and leads you away from the crowd into a more spacious area.

"You're quite handsome if I do say so myself. Especially that scar." You say, pointing at the healed wound. He smiles. "Well thank you, how sweet is that." He excitedly beams. He removes his hat from his head and slightly bows towards you. "I have yet to formally introduce myself, I am Nikolai Gogol." He says, adjusting his posture yet again to be standing straight up. You smile. "Hello, Nikolai. My name is Y/n." You smile with your arms crossed in front of your chest.

"Well then, Y/n, can I ask you if you enjoy quizzes?" He asks, his head tilted, gravity dragging the long braid along with his movements. You furrow your eyebrows a little. "I'm not too fond of the academic ones, if I'm being honest. Silly ones I don't mind." You say with a small shrug of your shoulders. He laughs.

"Perfect! Let me quiz you then, Y/n." He takes your hands in his excitedly. "Are you aware of the difference between a jester and a clown?" He says, his face about the length of a outstretched palms thumb to pinky tip away from yours. You think for a moment before speaking. "Clowns follow a routine, whereas jesters are more spontaneous and satirical, no?" You say, gazing into his eyes, surprising yourself with your eagerness to hear words of confirmation or denial slip from between his crimson painted lips. He pulls back and claps a bit.

"That's right! Marvelous! How smart you are." He says, removing his hat and placing it on top of your head. "Not many people get that right, you know? Many peoples first answer revolves around a jester being a part of a royal court, but that is simply not their differentiating characteristic." He says, patting your shoulder with a grin. You keep eye contact for a couple of seconds before he erupts into a fit of snickers.

"I'm around this area often during the week. You should come see me, I can promise to give you the very best show I can muster." He grins and with that, he is gone through a portal. He has left you there, a bit flustered as you held onto the hat tightly. You suppressed the excitement in your heart before sneaking out into the crowded pathways once again. Maybe you would take him up on that.

[meetinginsamarra]

My AO3 wrapped 2024

The Curious Case of the Casablanca Killer 56k

Deemed a three at best, the case of an invisible burglar in a historic cinema who stole nothing only caught Sherlock’s attention because he was bored. Also, he wanted to do John a favour. In the end, this proved to be a real stroke of luck. Otherwise, Sherlock would have missed an intriguing mystery that quickly ramped up in complexity.

I started the year writing/finishing the casefic which is a gift to my friend and beta reader @peageetibbs . This took way over a year to write, as there had been a lot of plotting and figuring out clues and deductions. Also, several breaks in writing because of IRL or when other fics "interfered" and delayed finishing it.

It's a complex intriguing case starting in a historic cinema and our heroes exhibit a well-established friendship.

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Mayprompts 2025 - hosted by calaisreno

The 31 prompts this May generated a boost of creativity that spawned 3 ficlets, 2 limericks and one poem as well as two stories (see below).

Open 

Sherlock comes back from the dead and John welcomes him home in a most unexpected way.

Family Day

Little Rosie defends her best friend and is pretty smart about it.

The Blanket Detective

Sharing a bed with Sherlock ist perilous.

2 Limericks and 1 Poem 

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Also, I wrote two 12k fics, continuously using the other prompts which totally surprised me as their plot developed so quickly nearly without my doing. LOL

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The Perfect Place 10k

Sherlock needs a flatmate and already has the perfect person in mind. Now he only needs to convince his object of desire to move in and also find out if he desires Sherlock as well.

This began with the may prompt "box" and developed into the "Bed Shop Boys-AU" (@helloliriels coined this lovely moniker). The only ever AU where John works as a bed shop assistent! This is pure fun and people claimed in the comments to have laughed a lot. Happy Johnlock end!

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White Pony Tattoo 11k

John Watson needs a tattoo covered up. Sherlock Holmes of "White Pony Tattoo" is one of the best artists in London. He's also difficult and brilliant and beautiful as John is about to find out.

I love tattoo shop AUs and finally had an idea for writing my own. A little bit of enemies (Sherlock is a beautiful, seductive arsehole at first) to lovers (John finds out what Sherlock is hiding underneath his pricky shell), a bit of hurt/comfort and a happy ending.

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Take My Broken Love 48k

Standing on the airfield's tarmac and about to fly off to a suicide mission, Sherlock says what he had always wanted to say to John but never had. His words drastically changed the course of events.

This year's whumptober again sucked me into a deep writing rabbit hole. For about six weeks I used practically all the spare I had (and a lot of time I dd not actually have) to write this. Again, it has been a great experience to be so immersed into writing and again, it was (positively) stressful af.

I had this concept in my mind that all of the main characters' love for someone is broken and flawed.

Starting with an alternative ending of the tarmac scene, the first half of the fic concentrates on their hurt and emotional whump which sets the stage for what happens next. The second half concentrates on Sherlock's mission and features more physical whump. I had a plotty spy mission in my mind with lots of twists and intrigues. I also focused a lot on characterization.

I am still beyond thrilled and incredibly proud that I could pull this off so well. (I know, I'm praising myself, but still, comments confirm it.) I personally think that this is my best writing, technically and plot-wise.

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A Minor Detail

Sherlock has found the perfect flatmate for sharing 221b Baker Street. If only there would not be that minor detail in the small print of the lease agreement. Now, John has no other choice but take part in Sherlock‘s scheme.

I participated in Fandom Trumps Hate for the first time this year and @lostinsherlock44 generously bid on me.

I had this funny idea and then, the characters seemingly acted out of their own will and the fic just developed. This is definitely the funniest thing I have ever written and lots of comments tell about readers having laughed out loud. This makes me so very happy in return that my writing could give people a little good time and happiness.

[love-lilly02]

LILLY PLS IM SUPER DOWN BAD FOR SOME TF141 DRABBLES RN

OK IDEA: HOW THEY SHOW THEIR AFFECTION/LOVE LANGUAGE 💥👊

KEEPING IT BROAD CAUSE I WANNA SEE YOU BE CREATIVE 🤭

MWAH DONT FEEL FORCED EITHER

— 🪿

RAAAA DUCK ANNON IS BACK‼️‼️‼️

i’m so sorry i didn’t see this by the way, i was cleaning😕😕

Anyways we’ll start off with Price, i think he’s definitely a words of affirmation person or gift giving. in the beginning he leaves you small things, a flower (yes, a singular flower.) with a letter saying it’s pretty like you, poems, treats hidden around your room. Once the two of you are together though he’s going all out. Flowers every week (he keeps one so he knows when it’s time to buy more), text messages with poems and paragraphs, date nights, shopping sprees. (emphasis on the shopping, you can look at something for too long and it’s in your apartment the next day.) i also don’t really see price as a touchy person, but he likes when you hold his hand or his arm (imagine period drama arm holding), ESPECIALLY around the boys.

Johnny next, this man is touchy to ALL hell. your on the counter? he’s got your ass. standing there doing ANYTHING? he’s around you, holding your waist, putting his chin on your shoulder, all of the above. In public he’s got your hand, your arm, your waist, any part of you he can grab. he’s also a flirter, to the BIGGEST extent, i mean this man will take one look at you and spew out so many compliments you think he’s got them pre written down. their also never the same compliments, ever. how he has so many you’ll never know. I don’t see him as a gifts person but if you express an intrest in certain things it will pop up from time to time.

Kyle is a bit tricky for me, because i don’t write him often. I think he’s a reassurance person, if you’re not feeling well he’s there or he’ll always say he loves you or something. Definitely someone who believes actions speak louder than words, which means everything in your house is getting done for you. dishes? he washed them an hour ago. trash needs taking out? oh don’t worry love, i got that. He just likes taking care of you, doesn’t really mind the busywork. And don’t you dare feel bad for it, he’s right there scolding you for it, saying that he wants to do those things, that he wants to help you. He’s definitely a clingy person, but not out in public. poor kid’s too shy for that, but at home he’s all over you. his favorite position is to lie with his head on your stomach, watching something on the telly while you read or scroll on your phone. definitely not because he falls asleep easier in that position.

Ghost is my favorite of them all. at first he just ignores you, i mean once this man realizes he has feelings you NEVER see him around😭 and then he gets over himself and somehow apologizes (how he got over himself, we’ll never know) and slowly starts going around you again, but that’s literally it. You don’t think anything else is wrong, wouldn’t even be able to tell something was different if it weren’t for all the people that started going missing. You complain about a co worker? their gone the next morning. some rookie is pissing you off? oddly enough he got deployed and killed in combat. you never understand it, especially when no one questions the disappearances or just where the people went. That’s how ghost loves you, by keeping you happy. Simon on the other hand, takes a much more direct approach with his love. Once ghost is done with his “i’ll kill you if you touch her” bs he’s confessing to you, buying you flowers for the first date (only then, for some reason?) taking you somewhere nice. The whole shabang for his pretty thing. He’s also a nicknames person, some of his favorite being “love, lovie, princess” and sometimes “thing” when you really make him mad. he’s just like kyle, shy in public but a fucking PUPPY at home. you try to get up in the morning, he’s got you trapped under him in seconds. you leave a room, he’s tailing after you, your cooking in the kitchen he’s right behind you, if you don’t yell at him to get off. it’s never suffocating, though. In public he’ll hold your waist or your hand, that’s about it.

i feel like i kind of got off topic at some points but those are hot takes off the top of my head🥳🥳 lmk if yall want an nsfw version

[noellefan101]

If I Had Never Forgotten You...

Characters: Kazuha x gn reader, Beidou and Crux crew appearance

Warnings: blood, angst, a little crying, a little dying, some more sadness springled in, beidou kinda implied to have accent cuz i feel like she should have idk, no comfort be prepaired

Note: this might make you cry, so be warned. and you cant blame me for not giving you a warning cuz i just did, love you ;p

It was one of the more sunny days out on the sea, the breeze flowing trough Kazuha's hair, carrying a comforting coldness alongside it.

He heard a loud bang from underneath where he sat, a member of the crew giving him an apologetic look when they saw his surprised face looking down at their form.

"It's quite alright," he spoke "the sound only startled me a little, it is of no aggravation to me."

The man beneath let out a sigh and smiled once more, walking away to continue his tasks. Kazuha looked up at the nearly cloudless sky, looking for something to inspire him towards writing another one of his poems or haikus.

Yet nothing truly worth writing about came to mind, only thoughts regarding how he would spent his time on their next journey across the seas.

As the hours passed by, more and more crew members started to vanish from the deck, retreating to their rooms intending to rest after another long day.

But the young Inazuman still sat outside, looking up at the skies.

"HEY! Kazuha! watt'a ya doing being up here this hour" he could hear a female voice yell at him from below, and only smiled when he saw Beidou looking at him with a bottle in her hand.

"You should get 'ome rest soon, don' need ya passin out." she seemed to have calmed down, yet her words we're half minded and it was clear she was still quite drunk.

"I'm merely enjoying the views, need not worry over me Captain. I'll make sure to retire into the land of dreams soon enough," he spoke with uncertainty in his voice, something he only noticed as he finished his statement. But hoped Beidou didnt catch it, for even he did not know where it came from.

Although he wouldn't get an answer as she only smiled and went off with a wave, seemingly wanting to rest just like the others.

He waved her back, but only felt anxious after her departure.

And so the poetic young boy took off to slumber in his room, his mind filled with thoughts of longing. But what he longed for he did not know

-;-

Another day lacking inspiration, as he had felt was now often the norm for him. His thoughts were filled with his lover in mind, yet still nothing good had come to mind.

He realized he had been gone for longer than he planned once again, after a good number of people seemed to need various things from his homeland. And naturally the first thing that came to his mind was you.

You had always been easy to please, willing to hear any haiku he had written, never being annoyed by his constant traveling.

And despite you rarely seeing him, you welcomed him with open arms every time he returned home for another month or so. Even though you never seemed to have an interest in traveling, he always made sure to ask if you'd like to join.

You had always said no, wanting to reside in your homeland for as long as he'd return to you.

He smiled at the memory, your words clinging to him and clouding his thoughts with you over and over.

Yet it seemed like the first time in months he'd even remembered those words, maybe he really was caught up in the moment too often.

But the thought of coming home late wasn't a worry for him, for he was sure you'd accept his arrival just the same. You had always laughed when he ended up staying a little too long out at sea, finding joy in his forgetful mind.

Oh how would you hug him when he arrived, as tight as last time or maybe even tighter? He's certain you missed him after his 4 month, well, now 6 month journey. For he is surely missing you right now.

-;-

When the Crux arrived at Ritou, lots of people came to greet them. Some of the guards could be seen worrying for a few citizens that were about to fall into the water, making sure everyone spread to make room for the arriving crew.

Kazuha looked around in the crowds, watching as people started loading off some goods. He scanned every place around the docks, looking for you, or just a tiny sign of you. yet he found none. He waited a few more minutes to make sure, earning a few sorrow glances from Beidou in the meantime, but still no sign of you.

Not that he was fully expecting your arrival, since you didnt know he would come home today. But he was still slightly disappointed, and had maybe gotten his hopes up.

No matter, you didnt know he was arriving today anyway, ignoring how this was his 5th time thinking that, he started getting off the crux. He had wanted to greet you at the docks but with that plan ruined, he'd just have to surprise you when he reached your residence.

Said surprise was made with a bouquet of your favorite flowers and the best poem he could find in his notebook, not that it truly was anything special. But he was sure you'd enjoy it.

Yeah, it would be nice to hold you again as you beamed at his poetic expertise. As you put the bouquet in a vase on the dining table, lovingly talking till the moon graced the heavens and you drag him to bed.

And it took but a few minutes to arrive at your house, hands sweaty and nervous as he carefully knocked at your door.

...

No response.

But that was no problem, maybe you had been sleeping in again or were out on a walk, the weather did seem to be quite nice today.

He opened the door and went in, calling your name in the process.

...

Still no response.

Oh well maybe you were sleeping, the door hadnt been locked either so it was the best reason he could come up with.

As he neared the bedroom, he sensed an unpleasant stench coming from it, and his nose told him just the right thing.

Weird, had you burned something maybe? No couldnt be, maybe you had forgotten to get rid of some old fruit?

He got his answers once he opened the door, flowers falling out his hands as he stopped moving. No, no no no, this wasnt real, this couldnt be real.

Yet nothing could stop him from looking at your lifeless body on the ground, laying so gracefully he would have thought you just took a nap on the floor. Were it not for your lack of breathing that is.

He understood where the smell came from now, but now that was the least of his problems.

His knees felt weak, like he had never been able to stand in the first place, and he soon fell to the ground as his knees gave in.

And he wanted to puke at the sight in front of him, yet he couldnt take his eyes off of you. He couldn't stop his eyes from looking at your lifeless form before him, at all the blood that surrounded you.

Dried Blood.

He felt water run down his cheeks, he was crying. The salty taste falling on his tongue not long after, confirming his one unimportant thought. He truly cried for the first time since his friend had died, but it was once again because the one he felt closest to was gone.

Had been dead right before him once again, yet this time he had to see the blood that still seemed to be a little sticky when he reached out.

Something sharp cut him as he tried to reach for your hand, and he looked to your side slightly to see shattered glass surrounding your hand.

It looked like you had been carrying a cup when crashed down with you, but it had clearly cut you.

He took your hand in his, wincing a little at the sheer coldness of it. And it truly felt like holding raw ice in his palm, hard to think he was looking forward to holding the same hand just minutes earlier.

Tears blurred his vision, and for once he was glad he didnt have to look at you, that he didnt have to look at the pool of blood that seemed to be enveloping your figure.

And he only felt regret that it wasn't him around your form for the last moments of your time.

So lifting your body slightly, he hugged it the best he could, trying his very best to comfort something because it clearly was not comforting himself when your icey skin made contact with his.

He barely moved after that, sitting silently on the floor. And he was sure some of the blood had gotten onto his clothes, staining them all a dark red. But he couldn't have cared less.

It was cold, he was freezing and his body screamed for him to warm up one way or another. But he did nothing to soothe his body from the cold, for how could he when your numb body was right there.

If he had arrived home sooner, could he have prevented this?

Could he be hugged by your warmth, instead of clinging to your piercingly cold body?

He wants to say that it wasn't his fault, but he cant bring himself to even try and word it out.

And it hurts so badly that he can't do anything to help you, only wish this is but a dream. Yet he won't get ahead of himself, all he wanted to do was blame himself.

It is his fault that you're gone, no matter who tells him otherwise.

For if I had just remembered you...

...Would you still be here to comfort my dying heart?

Masterlist-Luv ya

[rosalindbeatrice]

On Writer's Ennui

It's more ennui than it is block. It's a chewing dissatisfaction, a sinking conviction that my most recent projects aren't as good as I think they are. This feeling is periodic and fortunately doesn't visit often. Mostly, I've been blessed with an overweening conceit in my own abilities. I believe in myself and in the excellence of what I write. But occasionally there's a trough in the nearly uninterrupted peaks. I've been in such a trough for the past couple of days.

Last night I read the poems I submitted for publication a few months ago and found them lacking. It's hard to describe, but they just didn't get all the way there--at least when I read them last night. They were missing that crowning sprinkle of magic dust that turns something fair into something excellent.

I'm also struggling with my non-fiction. I opened the document to write today and came up with all of three sentences before I abandoned it to write this Tumblr post. After receiving some rejections to queries I sent to agents for my narrative non-fiction book, I've been retooling my first chapter since the New Year. The most valuable feedback I received was that the book proposal was just a little too academic for one agent's tastes. That surprised me. I've never felt like my writing belonged in the rarified atmosphere of academia, where the arguments (a.k.a. the what's-the-point element) seem to come easily to other scholars. I've always struggled with arguments. For me, the most important quality of my academic publications has always been the "isn't this fucking neat?" You know, the unveiling of a new discovery. New details. The description of the thing. This thing was not known, but now it is. It's not enough in that world, though, to say, "Wow, isn't this cool?" Ugh. Also, I prided myself on bringing clear writing to my publications. No impenetrable academese for me, thanks. Just easy-to-read prose. [tips cowboy hat]

So having received that feedback—which I want to emphasize was tremendously valuable and by no means deflating—I'm left feeling a bit like my writing, at least when it comes to non-fiction, doesn't belong in either world. I can't speak theory (nor do I want to!) and I struggle with arguments when I write for an academic audience, so I don't belong there. Yet my writing was too academic for this one agent, so I'm not suited for trade publication either. I'm in a liminal space all my own.

Of course, I know that's all self-pitying bullshit. Truly. That said, even though I can readily and with good humor perceive that insecurity for what it is, it still nips at me from time to time. Mostly though, I'm just spurred to give it another go. I'll try, try again. I think once I'm done rewriting, the second draft of this chapter will be far superior to the first. I just need to take those onerous, plodding steps through the trough.

That brings me to my next musing, which is Stephen King's On Writing. Read it for the first time this January, loved it, and took away some good points. One was a piece of advice that one of King's earlier editors gave him; namely (to paraphrase) that the first draft is you telling the story to yourself. The second is you paring the story down to its fundamentals for your audience. So I've kept this in mind as I work on the chapter of the non-fiction book and it has resulted in some good cutting.

My current reads are The Cold, Cold Ground by Adrian McKinty, which I'm listening to as an audiobook read by Gerard Doyle whom I adore, and The Woman in Black by Susan Hill.

* * *

The next musing is what my followers are really here for, which is to say Bob Dylan. Incidentally, as I entered a slump with my other writing, I found myself more galvanized by The Patient than I've been in a couple months and started happily writing away. I'm about 7,000 words into the sixth and final part and, readers, I don't know how it's going to end. That's another part of On Writing that made me feel relieved. From what Stephen King describes (if I understood it accurately, anyway) is that he begins with an idea and frequently not much more. The characters and the narrative unfold under his fingertips as he writes. With past works, even if he's had an ending in mind, sometimes the characters zigzag in an entirely different direction. So while I have a sense of how The Patient ends, it's like a glimpse out of my peripheral vision. I can't get it into my direct line of vision. And that's fine. It's just reassuring to hear that a master of literature operates in the same way.

Fiction-writing is my first and biggest love, even though I don't have any immediate plans to try to publish any. I think of myself as primarily a fiction-writer. For those reasons, writing fan fiction has never been hard. I always feel unencumbered when I write it. It's enjoyable. And as a rule, I'm just not dissatisfied with my fiction the way I can get dissatisfied with my non-fiction projects or poems. It doesn't bother me to set aside fan fiction writing for awhile, too. I don't think of the rest periods as writer's block. They're just natural lulls.

I'm sure I love fan fiction so much in part because I have the freedom of knowing that what I'm writing will never be published. I can be as free as I want to be. I don't have to go back and write a second draft (although with my biggest work, a Buster Keaton novel, I do wish I could do a good revision). I can experiment with stylistic elements or try out a phrase I've never tried before. It's a risk-free way to practice the craft, fun and freeing.

It's just icing on the cake that somehow, no matter how obscure I feel my fandoms are, the story always finds a reader who adores it. I hope to someday write a fiction book for publication that does the same thing.

* * *

I've also been way too invested in the Neil Gaiman news this past week. I haven't read him in earnest since I was a teenager and positively enraptured by Neverwhere. (Never read Sandman, oddly.) I will say this knowing how arrogant it will sound, but I will say it because I am trying to be honest with this blog: his writing felt too goth-y, too teenage-y for my adult years. When I was a child, I spake as a child, I understood as a child, I thought as a child: but when I became a man, I put away childish things. Y'know? The last thing I read was Coraline when I was sick as a dog from Xanax withdrawal following my first semester of university. I stressed out so much about making straight As that I wore my body down. I had IBS, kept coming down with viruses, and was so anxious I could barely function. This was around the time I first realized that the things I'd been feeling since at least age 10 had a name: anxiety. I believe I had yet to be diagnosed with generalized anxiety disorder. (Where my fellow GAD people at?) A doc-in-the-box prescribed Xanax to treat the anxiety, which I took twice a day at a lower-than-prescribed dose. It was two or three weeks before I made the connection that the uptick in my anxiety was "rebound anxiety" when the Xanax left my system. As soon as I realized I was chemically dependent on it, I went cold turkey and suffered through some of the worst anxiety of my life. The withdrawal also came with flu-like symptoms. I was so sensitive to light, noise, and smell. So I stretched out on my couch in my dank little basement apartment and read Coraline, which was weird enough that it made me feel sicker and I was kind of sorry I'd read it.

Anyway, because Neverwhere was one of my favorite books when I was a wean, I had a hard time dragging myself away from Reddit once I'd read Lila Shapiro's article for Vulture. I've checked it every day since, looking for other first-person accounts of interactions with Neil Gaiman and Amanda Palmer. (Was also obsessed with the Dresden Dolls' debut album when it came out in 2003 and went up to Madison to see them when I was 18.) I have no doubt that all of it is true and I don't have anything scintillating to add to the observations hundreds of others have already made.

What are your thoughts on the newest Neil Gaiman rape revelations? What have you been reading lately? What are your top favorite Bob Dylan songs?

Source: Flagging Down the Double E's

[yellowloid]

ten people i'd like to get to know better

i was tagged by @uhbasicallyjustmilex @arcticshadowturtles @rearviewghost - thank you so much!! 💖

last song: girl, so confusing - charli xcx feat. lorde

favourite colour: purple and black 💜🖤 all shades of purple are just my favourite but especially lilac which i made my whole personality ever since i was like 13

last book: currently reading normal people by sally rooney, i'm really enjoying it so far! can't wait to catch up with the tv show, i've heard very positive reviews of it + i love daisy edgar jones' and paul mescal's on-screen chemistry, plus i miss ireland sm and the book is continuously feeding my dublin blues </3

last movie: i honestly can't remember bc i don't watch that many movies (i'm more of a tv show girlie) but it was probably visconti's 'death in venice' after reading the short novel - thomas mann is one of my favourite authors and the movie perfectly captured the languidly eerie atmosphere of the book

last tv show: tim burton's wednesday! i purposely avoided it back when it came out bc everyone was talking about it and you know how it goes, the more people talk about smth the less i feel the desire to watch it lmao. but then last month i was in the mood for smth with a spooky autumn vibe that was also kinda light, so i decided to give it a chance and it was a really nice surprise! i wasn't expecting to like it so much but i found it really entertaining, i loved jenna ortega's portrayal of wednesday and i also found her and enid so cute (GOD i hope they make wenclair canon in s2 it'd be so good)

sweet/spicy/savoury: savoury all the way, but after that then also a sweet treat

relationship status: blessedly single and also the dating scene is so atrocious i'd rather put my hand in a blender than open tinder ever again

last thing i googled: t.s. eliot's poem 'the naming of cats' because i remembered i had it saved somewhere but couldn't find it so i just looked it up - it's so silly i love it

current obsessions:

am/tlsp as always - i  finished writing a very long chapter of my wip the other day and even tho it was very angsty i'm so happy i finally finished it because i'd been bogged down in a slump for quite some time and i'm just so glad i managed to pull myself out of it. just a couple of chapters left and then the fic will be completely written :')

taylor swift as always - last couple of days i've been losing my mind over her new surprise songs outfits specifically. i see. i see it all so clearly

garrett and andrew (my favourite youtubers along with dan and phil): i LOVED the new spooky video and ugh every single one of their videos has the power to become a comfort video to me

bungo stray dogs and soukoku in particular - i watched the anime for the first time back at the start of 2020, then i rewatched it around this time last year and i'm afraid ever since then it's been living in my mind rent free, especially these two chaotic bitter exes </3 i'm on volume 18 of the manga but i need to catch up asap!!

looking forward to: having dinner with my friends on saturday night, the new bsd chapter at the start of november, christmas time, planning another trip with the girls <3 also having a break (isn't going to happen soon unfortunately) and getting some quality SLEEP i'm so tired

tagging: @alexturner @mrschwartz @reconciledviolence729 @hesterias @partynthem @depressedraisin @glorious-blackout @1llusionmachine and anyone who wants to do it 🫶