#tag: poet perfection
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chrisginny · 1 year ago
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64 years ago yesterday, ginny danburry played hermia in a midsummer night’s dream.
hermia!ginny closet cosplay :)
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gentle-author · 11 months ago
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When Nick Nelson said
"you don't have to be perfect with me"
He genuinely healed so many hearts he never broke.
@chronicintrovert
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icelogged · 1 year ago
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dust by o.o mim
felt ink pen, used teabag and a bic lighter on a yellow sticky note. found image blended digitally.
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trickstersaint · 2 years ago
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there's this feeling i get that i can't describe // january 16 2023
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askthe-littlepoet · 17 days ago
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*shows the poet the transcendental cha cha cha amv*
"..."
"...reminds me of prison."
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rebornofstars · 5 months ago
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wattle
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//
when i went to the mountains and walked
the bush was still black
though the fires had passed out of memory.
wattles lined my path, twined in the roots
and bones of trees long dead;
bright in the afternoon they flowered
gold and alive and
young and i thought that was beautiful.
that they compliment
kindly the colours of survival.
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despertara · 10 months ago
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Irene bro if you see this I want you to know I've been podcasting (talking loudly and emphatically to myself) abt that Grammy Gun post for Hours. I started ranting in the rb tags and then I got so mad I started a spreadsheet on my phone Yes I have the Excel app. No I did not finish my tags
#Pacing around my house ''IN LIEU OF A PERSONALITY TAYLOR HAS A MARKETING STRATEGY AND THAT'S WHY WHITE AMERICANS LOVE HER''#''BC SHE'S A WHITE GIRL NEPOBABY & THEREBY PERFECTLY EMBODIES WESTERN IDEALS: MARTYR COMPLEX + ARYAN PROFIT + QTY>QUALITY + CENTRIST + MID'#''AND IT'S PROBABLY TOO GENEROUS TO CALL HER A CENTRIST WHEN SHE'S NEVER REBUKED THE PPL WHO CLAIM HER AS THEIR ARYAN PRINCESS''#''THE VENN DIAGRAM OF PPL WHO ARE SICK OF HEARING ABT PALESTINE AND PPL WHO CAPE FOR TAYLOR IS ALMOST CERTAINLY A SINGLE PERFECT CIRCLE''#''IN WHAT WORLD IS SHE A TORTURED POET HER WRITING IS ON PAR WITH RUPI KAUR AND— WHO'S EMAILING ME FUCK OFF''#In the shower ''AND ANOTHER THING''#She's the physical manifestation of privileged ppl's desire to be oppressed bc they can't stand when the convo isn't abt them lmfaooooo#''it's hard for skinny white conventionally attractive cishet ppl whose fathers were bankers too!!! Don't erase my truth!!! 😭''#''Taylor is the number one most streamed/whatever artist in the world''#Popularity or notoriety? Bc the US is also well-known for Trump + Texas + public shootings + genocide + wasting money on football stadiums#But again! She's the Western/American Ideal Made Flesh! It's Punk To Have Money And Connections!#And Being White Is The Punkest Of ALL!#Oh my Christ I say this all the time but if university classes have to be offered on her they should be in Marketing and Ethics#She should be a business school case study and that is NOOOT a. Compliment#She couldn't even stick with country bc how truly country of an experience could she have had when her daddy was rich like#She doesn't have the range like idc if you like her just don't act like she's revolutionary when all her movements are calculated + LATERAL#It's not art it's business acumen please she is rewarded by the Grammies bc they respect her for upholding Capitalism I'm so tired#Remember when they gave AOTY to HARRY last year when Beyoncé and Benitito were RIGHT THERE#It's propaganda just like the news plzzzzzzzzzzzz you are all lemmings and she know it which is why she is so good at CONNING YOU#ME N BRO TAG#These are not the comments I wrote on that post you tagged me in btw I got out of the shower to write these FRESH#You know Kacey Musgraves is coming out w a new record too and even tho she got cut out of the CMAs last time she's still proudly country...#I am never drying my hair at this rate#Too busy explaining to you - in complete detail -..........
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twentyfivemiceinatrenchcoat · 8 months ago
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poet!suguru associated with nakahara reminds me so much of
only, just as the moonlight diffuses, / is the spring day’s evening docile? / calm in the field, the temple is crimson; / the wagoon wheel has lost its oil; / when i say something in the historical present, / scorn, scorn fron the skies and mountains.
or also,
the streets are loud, / children’s voices tangle. / and so, what will this soul become? / fading away, will it become sky?
there are also a lot but i don’t want to make this long. there’s just something in nakahara’s poetry that is so captivating and deeply fascinating………… unfortunately i’m not very good with poetry so sorry if it doesn’t make sense……….
ANONNNN MY LOVE!!! YOU GET IT!!!!! aaaaa i wanted to pick out some nakahara quotes but :’3 the only poetry collection i have of his is . rotting at my brother’s apartment … bc i forgot it there……
but !!! yes!!!!!! nakahara has a way with words and rhythm that i just think suguru would adore. especially his season-based poetry!!! his descriptions and way with words rlly is so captivating!!! one of my favorite nakahara poems is autumn and i think sugu would love it too. but also some of his shorter stuff… anything that mentions summer reminds me of suguru and the nostalgia / melancholia in nakahara’s works makes it even worse :((((
… i just remembered that there is one nakahara quote available to me rn bc i love it so much that i wrote it out on the blank pages of another poetry book 😭😭 i don’t remember which poem this one’s from but i feel like it also had autumn in the name…. a windy autumn day? or something? an autumn day in a port town…?
anyways here it is:
this evening my life is smouldering, your and my lives are smouldering; i can only think our lives, like tobacco, are burning swiftly away.
… and that just screams sugucoded to me.
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callingcxrd · 1 year ago
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I know people mean well and this is something I don't blame them for but I am getting so tired of hearing that Oh, your struggles make you special! Thinking differently means you'll change the world! Like maybe I don't want to be some miraculous idolised Other any more than I would want to be some demonised freak to you all maybe I just want actually understood
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whiteshipnightjar · 11 months ago
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— Joanna Newsom, (No Wonder)
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not to me. not if it’s you.
― Anne Carson (Euripides), Dead Poets Society (Final Script), Extraordinary Attorney Woo (Ep. 10), Anne Carson (H of H Playbook)
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demi-is-doomed · 2 years ago
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Oh how it must be nice to have someone who loves you and can actually show it.
Oh how it must be nice to know you're in safe hands who will never harm you in anyway.
Oh how it must be nice knowing that the one you love and adore the most is the one who lays beside you.
Oh how it must be nice to know you're hearing only truths and not being told lies.
Oh how it must be just so lovely to have someone who values you instead of tarnishing your self worth.
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thelikesofus · 7 days ago
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Buddie Fic Recs
REC LIST NUMBER 7! I’m finally home so I can finally share with you the over three months worth of Buddie fics that I have read to keep me sane while I was traveling around the UK.  As always, please show these authors some love in their comments xx Find my other Buddie Rec Lists HERE
REMINDER TO CHECK THE TAGS AND TRIGGER WARNINGS
What's Easy is Right by @half_bakedboy | G | 18k
Buck romances Eddie the way that he deserves. It was so refreshing to read a fic like this where everything just goes right for them. They just get to fall in love and be happy without any conflict or "big bad thing" arising. They were allowed to just be in love and happy and I love that so much <3
my man says he loves me (never says he loves me not) by @colonoscopys | G | 1.9k
Buck and Eddie unknowingly commiserate with each other through a website entitled: inlovewithmybestfriendandgoingtodie.com! This fic is absolutely incredible. I could literally cry, it's so good!!
loves a game, wanna play? by @exhuastedpigeon | M | 57k
Love Island AU. In the aftermath of Chris leaving for the summer, Buck convinces Eddie they should apply for Love Island together. I have never watched Love Island, or ever wanted to, but if this fic was a real season I would EAT. IT. UP!
Eddie vs Romance by @littlespoonevan | T | 27k
This lovely two-part series in which Eddie does a lot of self-learning and then gets romanced as he deserves. 
Too Often the Power of Touch is Underestimated by @xjustlikeyou | T | 15k
Five times a touch knocked Eddie off his feet, and the one time he got to return the favor. I have no words to describe how wholly and profoundly perfect this fic is to me. This is THEE Buddie touch-centric w/ pining Eddie fic of all time!
Until the Dancing Ends by @phoenix-angel-suyari  | G | 4k
Eddie finally sees footage of Buck's reaction to him getting buried in the well and Eddie reacts proportionately by kissing him in front of everyone. So, so good!
i'm here with the door wide open by @eddiebabygirldiaz| T | 24k
Eddie copes with the absence of Chris but also the presence of Buck. I adore this fic, Eddie finally learning to allow himself to feel things and to accept that he deserves to love and be loved in return and that what he feels for Buck doesn't need to be stamped down and hidden. The ending is so beautifully soft too! 
you're almost home (i've been waiting for you to come in) by @sibylsleaves | E | 24k 
Buck breaks up with Taylor, moves out of the loft and in with Eddie. Let the Buddie Roommates and Pining Era begin! As all of Sibyl’s fics are this is just incredible and I devoured it!
the tortured poets department by @colonoscopys | E | 18k 
The first time Buck touched him, Eddie blew an ambulance up AKA Eddie has magic and a lot of complicated feelings about his best friend.
there ain't no turning back by @42hrb | E | 28k
After dropping Chris off at College, Eddie begins his journey home only Buck to fly out to crash his Sad Dad Cross Country Road Trip™. This fic made me feel a hundred billion emotions so strongly. Incredible.
Hot Ghost Problems by @ebjameston | T | 40k 
Not Actually Dead™ Ghost!Buck and Witch!Eddie. This fic is actually incredible! 10/10. Five Stars.
Season of Hope (After the Flood) by @saryasy | T | 58k
Eddie learns a lot about himself while waiting for his son to come home. The pinning and beautiful, KARENEDDIE BESTIE-ISM FOR THE WIN! And a beautiful tender happy ending xx 
the going water and the gone by @try-set-me-on-fire | T | 31k
Eddie Diaz presumed dead? Again? More likely than you think. I live for these sorts of fics and this one set Post Cruise Ship is so good!! 
come and be my baby by @colonoscopys | T | 21k
What is Buck and Eddie got together in season 2? This made me laugh and cry and feel all kinds of emotions and it's just so beautiful!!!!!!!
ice cream before dinner by cloudydaisies | T | 58k
This fic really doesn’t need any introduction because I think we are all obsessed. GIRL UNCLE!EDDIE + ICE CREAM TUESDAYS ❤️
bottle episode by @transboybuckley | T & E | 14k
The 118 has a 24-hour shift, and zero calls. The softest bottle episode, full of Firefam love, Buddie, and which is somehow also about crying over trees.
when everything's on fire by @glowingyears | T | 15k
Eddie and Chris move into the loft with Buck after a house fire and then they buy a house together. SO COZY SO LOVELY THERE IS JUST SO MUCH LOVE IN THIS FIC.
From the Ground Up by @blueberrytwoberry | M | 17k
Eddie finds a massive dog on his porch and can’t seems to get rid of it. THE DOG IS BUCK! BUCK IS A DOG! DOG BUCK! 
cold rain, warm skin by @gayhoediaz | T | 2.5k
Just the softest coziest morning kisses ever known to man <3
death wish love by @eddiebabygirldiaz | E | 15k
After his break up with Tommy, Buck goes to Eddie's, he wakes up the next morning only to be pummeled by his hangover and his attraction to Eddie. No words can possibly describe the soft comfortable and loving cocoon that this fic creates.
We Both Go Down Together by @xylodemon | T | 4k
A near death/drowning experience, a love confession and hospital pronounced husbands, what's not to love!?!
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sunseed-fandump · 7 months ago
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Every good circus needs a Big Top! And this here is the tent used by the Liar's Circus! But don't be fooled by its small size, the interior is guaranteed to blow any circus fan away! All forms of entertainment can be found within!
Nobody can put a price tag on FUN! So everything is free for the taking! Just step through the door!
Eat, drink, be merry! Let your emotions fly as high as the trapeze!
All that energy will soon be put to better use...
More information about the individual areas under the cut!
ARENA
This is the central area where most performances are given. From clowning around to acrobatic feats that boggle the mind, it's all done here! All paths around the circus lead back to this area, so it is also typically considered "the crossroads" of the circus.
The path to the Arena from the entrance runs through a gauntlet of concessions and gift stands. So many wonderful treats on display almost makes it feel like a dream.
Zoo
All manner of strange creatures are kept within the cages. Summoned from the great beyond lie beasts twisted by shadows and kissed by the forbidden reaches. Lions? Tigers? Bears? Those are nothing compared to what lurks behind the steel bars...
Games Square
Up for a challenge? The Games Square is the perfect place to show off one's skills. Tests of strength, dexterity, and intelligence can be found here. And don't worry about losing, everyone is sure to walk away with a wonderful prize! Just.. Be careful not to get lost in the hall of mirrors.
Playground
This area is for those who crave some good old-fashioned fun. The map really doesn't do it justice. A beautiful carousel spins all day long, filling the air with joyous music. Slides, swings, and various other pieces of equipment offer plenty of ways to play, play, play! So run around! Scream and shout! Let out all that pent-up energy!
Theater
Beautiful tear-jerking performances and awe-inspiring tales are spun on this stage. There's never a shortage of stories! All of them were written by the world's finest playwright, poet, director, actor, clown-- Huh? Who is he? Our beloved Ringmaster of course!
Staff Area
This is where Gingerbrave, Strawberry Cookie, and Wizard Cookie stay. Each performer gets their own tent, filled with all the basic comforts a hard-working cookie needs. Of course, they're tailored to the individual interests of each child as well. Wizard has a cozy little tower filled with books. Strawberry has all sorts of games to keep her occupied. As for Gingerbrave, he's got toys, crayons, and even a whole trampoline in there! The kids are certainly comfortable.
Ok, that's all cool but what's ACTUALLY going on in there?
The answer to that is simple, this plane exists to gather energy for Shadow Milk Cookie. Magic is tied to emotion. So the more excited the guests feel, the more life energy Shadow Milk collects from them. Everything here is perfectly harmless (to guests), as the point is to only illicit strong emotions of thrill, excitement, and joy.
Guests are free to come and go as they please, but when they do leave, everyone feels especially drained.
And if the circus faces a tough crowd? Well, fear is also a viably strong emotion to gather energy from.
The only Cookies in the tent who Shadow Milk Cookie does not collect energy from is the kids. As they need their strength to perform and complete whatever tasks are given to them.
Cookies who are labeled as "Intruders" will have a horde of phantoms, animals, and puppets come down on them from all sides, and that's not even counting how Shadow Milk can control everything and anything inside. So it's best not to pick a fight unless one is prepared...
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bluerthanvelvet444 · 8 months ago
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ᯓ★⋆˚🅰🅿🆁🅸🅲🅸🆃🆈⋆。˚ ⁀➷
(Peter Maximoff x fem!reader)
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tags: smut with plot and a bit of fluff in the end.
warnings: subby!Peter, restraints, handjob, fingering, riding, p in v, denied orgasm, praise, mentions of abuse, mentions of alcohol, mentions of fight, swearing.
summary: Peter gets captured by the villains. This fic takes place after x-men apocalypse and before x-men dark phoenix.
character count: 19k.
full fic under the cut ↓
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Memoir. What’s its provenance? What is it?
According to scientists, memories are “formed as a result of connections between neurons in the brain”. The poet Sylvia Plath, instead, “sardonically embraced the most horrific and vulgar fragments from the storehouse of collective memory”. The great philosopher Aristotle believed that “memory is like a writing that remains etched in wax, and whose inscriptions remain more or less durable”.
Although you continually researched and seeked in books for the perfect depiction, you weren’t able to find anything that could comply with your personal belief. You were staunch that memories are, in fact, the mirror of our being. Disgraceful memories, glorious ones…they’re both needed to construct the way we act, the way we think, and the way we are. You had always been involved in memoir personally, because of your quirk. You had the marvelous capacity of intruding into one’s memories. You couldn’t directly change or interact with them, instead, you could see, reproduce, assimilate and mimic them. Phenomenal, isn’t it? You may think it is but, your biggest gift to you was, in fact, your biggest ruin. Your life started its downgrade the exact moment you found out about it. You remembered it all.
You were standing small in front of your mother, who had either fallen asleep or passed out. The bottle of cheap tequila in her hands made both answers valid. You were just a kid but you knew it wasn’t easy. Your father had left when you were just a fetus in your mother’s womb. Since then, she had never been the same. All the bills, the rent, expenses were on her. Her job exhausted her and the little time she had left, she spent drowning her worries in alcohol. She didn’t need any more problems, so you never told her about that awkward energy growing inside of you. That particular day you felt it bigger than ever, the need to find out what it led to even stronger. So you put your tiny fingers on her temples, as the little voice in your head told you to, and you started seeing. All of your mother's life was flashing in front of your eyes quickly. You stopped at one particular memory, you inspected it. Your mother stood pregnant in front of a man that kept yelling at her. You put the pieces of the puzzles together. It was clear, and the new knowledge of the situation triggered something inside of you, inside of your power. You kept replaying and replaying the scene, tears in your eyes, as the man’s words dissolved from the memory and came directly out of your mouth. That woke your mother up, she was holding her head as the same image kept banging in her mind, and as the man’s voice spit those known words harshly from your little mouth. She yelled for you to stop, and you lowkey wish you never did. As soon as you stopped, she grabbed you and threw you inside of-what you playfully called-the dark room, your basement.
“I-I’m sorry…I can’t-you’re him…I-I see him-” Her words came out broken from her mouth, her sobs stopping her mid-sentence as she locked you inside.
That became a habit since then. You grew up in the “dark room”, hardly ever going outside if not to eat and respond to natural calls. Your main activity was watching TV and day-dreaming about the outside world. You knew it was better than what you were living, it had to be. Especially because you found out that you weren’t crazy or evil but that you simply belonged to a different species. They called them mutants.And apparently, there was a school for kids just like you, the interviews of the famous Charles Xavier were the ones you liked watching the most on TV. As the years went by, your urge to run away grew more and more, and so you did. One day in the early 70s, you grabbed all of your things and left, taking advantage of your mom’s blackout. You took different taxis and avoided the questions about your young age, and you were finally standing in front of Xavier School for Gifted Youngsters. Although, it seemed different from what you saw on TV: it looked abandoned, the plate with the name on it rusty and absentmindedly resting on the ground, and the gates closed. You tried peeking inside, before being startled by an unfamiliar voice behind you.
“Don’t waste your time. They can’t help you anymore, but we can.”
This is how you found yourself with a group of mutants who had the exact same hopes you had, before they were broken by the closure of the school. You were guided by The Captain-that is how he wanted to be called-that was trying to create a new safe place for young mutants. And his plan seemed to work, kid mutants were actually starting to come…before Xavier’s school opened again. At this point, your group desperately found itself in front of the school’s gate again. You were dismissed,though, by a blue beast mutant.
“We’re sorry, the school only accepts young kids between 5 and 17-” He told you before turning his back.
“You can try and talk to Charles though, I’m sure he will find some space for y-'' He stopped seeing you had all left.
This is why The Captain’s plan was ever created in the first place. He believed that Charles Xavier was a man only drawn by his personal needs, and that he only used the young mutants to gain popularity and be idolized by the US government.
“This is why we were rejected. Our powers aren’t conventionally pleasing. No human kid would ever desire our powers. So if he believes our gifts can’t be used for good, we won’t use them for good.” He spoke firmly to you all.
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Your flow of memories was interrupted by The Captain.
“We’ve captured one. You will watch him while we take care of the others. Do your thing on him and find out his weakness.” He spoke with a deep voice.
You nodded and began making your way downstairs before he gripped your wrist.
“Don’t disappoint me, Y/N.” You felt his piercing gaze in your eyes.
“I won’t.” You gulped and quickly left the room.
When you opened the door you scanned your surroundings. The room was all white, with petty furniture. No windows, a table, a chair, a small closet, and a bed which had a figure laying down on it. You inched closer and scanned the boy. His eyes closed, he was probably knocked out, a few bruises on his skin, his hands and legs restrained by the strong collars around them… he looked your age, his hair was silver with some goggles resting on them. He had a pleasant face to look at, if the circumstances had been different you could’ve even admitted that he was pretty attractive. He was wearing a black protective suit, probably X-men’s equipment, you guessed. The more you observed him, the more you were confused. You expected them to capture the great Mystique, the glorious Magneto…not a newbie. You sighed and started walking towards the desk, ramaging in your bag for a sleeping pill so that you could do your magic without being interrupted.
Peter slowly opened his eyes, he could feel his body sore from the previous fight. He started to panic as he didn’t recognize his surroundings. He tilted his head forwards, noticing the person standing in front of the desk.
“H-hey…! Ppsttttt…Lady! Yes! You! Lady!” You heard his desperate calls.
You walked towards him and stopped at the side of the bed.
“Hi! So there’s a bunch of bad people who captured me and probably want to beat my ass-” You stopped him mid-sentence.
“I know.” You replied with a monotone voice.
“You-you know?! Don’t tell me you’re one of ‘em- oh shit! You’re one of ‘em! C’mon you have to be kiddin’ me…you’re too pretty to be mean! Hey! C’mon help me!” He rushed, his hands and legs squirming at high speeds against the restraints. You didn’t budge at his compliment, instead, you were focused on his movements.
“A speedster, huh.” You mumbled.
“A speed…A speedster?! Babe I'm not a speedster- I’m the speedster! Quicksilver! Peter Maximoff! The one and only!” He replied cockily, almost as if he was offended by your lack of knowledge. You raised your eyebrow, clearly having no clue of who he was.
“Aah babe you’ve got to be kiddin’ me! I’m Quicksilver! The one who beated Apocalypse’s ass! I did it all myself heh- I’m basically a hero, everyone loves me. Don’t ya watch TV or what?” Even though you had no idea who this guy was and what he did to be part of the X-men, you could sense the exaggeration in his words.
“I prefer books.” You shrugged before turning your back and making your way to the desk again.
“Hey! Hey! Where ya goin’?! Are ya a mutant too? Hey, yer not gonna hurt me aren’t ya?! What’s your power? C’mon tell me…What’s your power? Whaddaya do?!”
You rolled your eyes as his continuous questions started to annoy you.
“Will you shut up and let me do what I need to do?!” You snapped while holding between your thumb and index the sleeping pill. His pupils dilated.
“Whoa-whoa…let’s chill down a bit, yea? No need to use that, babe. Ya just gotta ask and I'll do whatever you want me to do.” He said with a smirk forming on his face. You sighed.
“Close your eyes and stay still.” You began pressing your fingers against his temples.
“...Will it hurt?” He said with a nervous smile, big brown eyes looking up at you.
“It doesn’t have to.”
Just like that you were thrown into Peter’s memories. You saw his child self, his mom, his sister…his first time using his powers…Magneto…many memories about Magneto, weird. You decided to dig a little deeper. You replayed the memory where he found out that…
“Magneto is your father?!” You exclaimed, visibly surprised.
“Hehe, I guess…so that’s your power?” He said with a tiny chuckle.
You kept thinking about what you just saw. You never saw a direct contact between Peter and Magneto, so you supposed he didn’t know about his son. That could’ve easily been used against him, you had to tell The Captain. You walked towards the table and gathered your bag.
“That’s a cool power…I’ve never heard ‘bout it. Actually, I’ve never heard ‘bout ya either…do ya have a supervillain name? Why didn’t ya fight with the others?” The words fell rapidly out of his lips. You gulped.
“Just Y/N. I don’t fight with the others. My powers weren’t made for physical combat.” That’s true, they hardly ever let you come with them on missions. You were useless for superheroes as much as you were for supervillains.
“Pffffttt…that’s bullshit! Ya can do those cool things with yer mind! Ya totally have to meet Charles, he’s gott-”
“Charles? Charles’s a selfish man who puts his needs first. I don’t want anything from him.” You scoffed.
“Wha-what? Are ya out of yer mind? Have ya ever even met Charles? He’s the coolest. I was literally a loser who lived in his mom’s basement before meeting him. Always been cool though.” His words made your blood boil, hearing that he didn’t hesitate to help him but discarded you immediately. You told Peter your story, how you truly believed Charles was gonna save you but ended up breaking your inner child’s heart. Your eyes started to water as memories flooded in front of your eyes.
“Hey-I-I’m sorry that happened to ya but- hey- if I get outta here alive, I promise I will take you to the school. The professor will help ya, he always does.” You looked at him, a tiny glimmer of hope appearing in your eyes even though you knew that you couldn’t leave.
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You spent all your day talking to him. He was funny, you had to admit. The nicest company you had ever had. He told you about his family, how he joined the X-men, everything. And before you knew it, the night came.
“Oh uhm. You should get some sleep, you’re probably exhausted.” You said while getting up, ready to leave.
“Wait- uhhh…I can’t really sleep with this armor thingy on. It’s uncomfy.” He complained.
“Oh. Right, I can bring you some clothes. But I…can’t untie you. It’s the rules.” You shrugged.
“No need to. I usually sleep naked.” He winked at you.
“...” You contorted your face, not really knowing how to respond.
“HA! Gotcha. Just kidding. I sleep in my boxers.” He said with a proud grin on his lips.
“...I’ll bring you clothes.” You said before being interrupted again.
“No! Seriously, I just need to take my clothes off.”
You raised your eyebrow.
“...Not because I’m a creep. Simply because my speed speeds my body’s functions, and by speeding it highs my temperature so I get hot.” He spoke as if it was obvious.
“...Right.” You sighed and sat on the edge of the bed.
“How does this thing open?”
“W-whoa whoa…you-are you gonn- wait-” He stuttered as his cheeks slightly reddened.
“You said you wanted your clothes off, and I’m not gonna risk getting scolded by The Captain by freeing you.” You sighed. He gulped and pointed where his zipper was.
C’mon Peter…ya can do this, buddy. Ya just need to focus, yea? Don’t let a fine chick undressing ya speed yer speedy hormones, mh? Peter thought to himself. Your hands gripped the zipper and started pulling it down. Stay focused soldier. His broad chest was revealed as you slowly undressed him. You stopped at his abs to hop on the bed and take his shoes off. As you leaned to pull his boots, your arm slightly brushed his crotch. Holy fucking mother of all the fucking mutants, fuck. She barely touched ya and yer already growing hard, Peter? Must be tha speedy genes, yea, has to be. Totally not has nothing to do with ya being a virgin in your 20s. Nuh-uh. Goddamn you, Peter!
You threw his shoes on the floor, and started pulling his suit down again. You let your gaze linger as he was half-naked in front of you. He was wearing boxers with lightning bolts on them, a tiny chuckle escaped your mouth at that.
“Someone’s excited.” You said with a playful grin on your lips as you pointed at the prominent bulge in his boxers.
“Hey! Not my fault ya got all handsy- how did ya expect me to react?” He said with a tiny blush on his cheeks, he was so cute.
“...And it’s the speedster genes, by tha way. They call me Quickie for a reason.” He replied, annoyed because of how embarrassed he got.
“Do you need help?” You suggested. It may have been wrong, since you were “enemies” and you barely knew each other but…when are you gonna have another cute speedster all for you again?
“DoIneedawhat-” He blurted out, not believing what he just heard.
Your lips curled up in a smirk, and before he could process anything, your fingers grazed his crotch through his underwear.
“Oh- fuck- yea…yes-” He moaned, you giggled.
“So eager, mh?” You teased him by pulling his waistband up and then leaving it smack against his skin. He groaned and nodded, he was so worked up by nothing. You undressed him of his boxers too, his shaft springing free against his stomach, leaving him naked on the bed. His hips bucked up in search of friction. You grinned and gently took his dick in your hand, slowly pumping it.
“Aaah…f-f-yes…please…faster…” He whined.
You giggled and leaned in to kiss his lips gently, muffling his pleas. You started speeding your movements, and he deepened the kiss as his moans rolled off his tongue. As you made out, you could hear the sound of his hands desperately squirming against the restraints.
“Please…let me touch you…” He whimpered, big puppy eyes gazing up at you.
“Mh…sorry, can’t do, baby. It’s the rules.” You smirked and leaned in to peck his lips again. You stopped and sat up to pull off your shirt. He groaned at the sight. You took him in your hands again and fasted your pace even more.
“O-oh..f-fuck...gonna…gonna cum babe…c-cant hold it in…ahh..” You giggled and sped up even more, your mouth working hungrily against his, eating up his moans. He came with a loud groan, muffled by your lips. He kept whining after that.
“Pleasepleaseplease…wanna please ya too…lemme…I’m good at it- I promise…I’m basically a human vibrator-long lasting rose toy- please…” You giggled and nodded, pecking his lips. You took off your pants, before untying one of his hands. He groaned and immediately pulled you closer, his hand making its way under your panties. He suppressed a moan by biting his lip as he felt your slick with his fingers. He gently started circling your clit, and after he heard a few moans of confirmation from you, he began buzzing his fingers against it.
“Ooh…f-fuck…just like that, baby, don’t stop…” You moaned, he answered with a cute whine. He looked up at you, his middle finger gently pushing at your entrance, not fully sliding in. You nodded and bit your lip to suppress any more unholy sound coming out of you as his fingers started to fuck you slowly.
“F-fuck…” You threw your head back. He was gazing up at you with parted lips, as if he had never seen something so breathtaking. He kept picking up the pace, until you stopped his wrist and tied it up again.
“Wha-Wait-Why..? Y-you didn’t like it?” He said with his silver brows furrowed, he was lost and scared of what your answer could’ve been.
“Oh, it was fucking awesome, baby. But I wanna use something else to come, yea? Will you let me do that?” You said in a cooing voice, clearly driving his mind crazy.
“Mhm…yesplease…” He nodded, his gaze not daring to leave your body.
You undid your bra, his eyes widening, and straddled his hips. Your entrance just above his cock. He groaned at the sight, his shaft fully hardening again. You smiled and slowly sinked in, until your hips met his.
“Aaah…w-warm…so warm n’tight…mppph…” He moaned loudly.
You grinned and started slowly sliding your hips up and down repeatedly, reaching a stable pace. You moaned as you started speeding up, yet it wasn’t enough to satisfy you fully.
“Mhh…baby…mind helping me a little?” You said looking down at him.
He moaned and nodded. He started superspeeding his hips to meet yours as you bounced on his cock. The new sensation making you moan loudly.
“Ohhh! Fuck! Just like that, baby…such a good boy…” You groaned as you felt yourself closer. He let out a tiny whimper as he heard your praise and kept speeding up, his wrists and legs straining against the collars, forming tiny red lines.
“Fuckfuckfuck…can i cum? P-please-ah…?” He whined.
“Mhhh...not yet- baby…let me finish first…” You smirked.
He groaned and sped up even more, trying desperately to bring you to the edge. He hissed as he felt that knot in his stomach urging to snap. It didn’t take much for you to come undone. You cried out as you were still jumping up and down at lightning speed. As soon as he felt you clenching around him, he moaned loudly, as he was just about to cum. You quickly pulled him out of you and allowed him to spatter his fluid on your body. He panted heavily, droplets of sweat sinking from his forehead to the mattress. You waited a few moments before grabbing a towel and cleaning you both. You laid down on the bed with him, moving his head on your chest as you ran your fingers in his silver locks, whispering sweet nothings in his ear.
“You're my apricity.” You said while caressing his hair and pecking his temple. His eyes were closed, and he was clearly drifting off to sleep.
“Mh?” He mumbled, not moving one single part of his body, still restrained.
“Apricity. I read that in a book.” You chuckled.
“In simpler words?” He mumbled.
“The warmth of the sun in winter.”
“In even simpler words?” He muttered, his voice coming muffled by your chest.
“My life is the winter, you are the warmth.” You admitted. He didn't answer to that. You weren't sure if he actually understood the concept or even just your words, but one thing you were a hundred percent sure of.
He fell asleep smiling.
➴➵➶➴➵➶➴➵➶
taglist: @cxndiedvi0lets @angeldollw @marchsfreakshow @newwavesylviaplath @happy74827 @evpeters87
a/n: raaaahh!!! I'm honestly so proud of this, the fic came out just like i imagined. Anyways, hope you like it, love you all🤍🤍
join my taglist!!
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whxtedreams · 10 months ago
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Cookies as Payment
A Poets Love
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Inspired by rupi kaur poem:
i'd be lying if i said  you make me speechless the truth is you make my tongue so weak it forgets  what language to speak in  - by rupi kaur (milk and honey - page 61)
Word Count: 1.5k
Pairing: neighbour!joel x reader
Tags: no outbreak, fluff, baking, kissing, first kiss (with Joel), just wanna rip my heart out kind of fluff.
Series Masterlist - Main Masterlist
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You didn’t expect it. Truth be told, you’re positive he didn’t plan it either. There’s so much you didn’t expect to happen between you and your neighbour, and knowing how soft his lips are was definitely not on your bingo card.   
The house smells divine, a tantalising blend of vanilla and chocolate filling the air, the sweet scent mixing with the smooth jazz playing from the record player. The atmosphere is cosy and welcoming, blending all the perfect ingredients for an afternoon with Joel as he works outside on another one of your projects.
He walks through the kitchen door, his nose leading him to you while you pull the slightly browned cookies from the oven. Your back is to him as you place the tray on the counter to continue cooking as they cool.
“They smell amazing.” Joel hums as he reaches over you for one. 
“They’re not ready yet, they’re still cooking as they cool.” You swat his hand away with the oven mitt, scolding him for almost touching them.
“But they smell too good.” 
You softly shove him as his hand reaches for the cookies again. You turn to face him then, arms crossed over your chest as you lean against the counter. His wired headphones dangle over his shoulders, blending into his plain white tee, his jacket discarded in the early afternoon from the Texas heat.
“I could smell ‘em from all the way outside, got me droolin’ out there.” He huffs a soft laugh as he brings his hands up in false defence, moving back from the cookies. “I’ve been tellin’ ya to start sellin’ them, make a fortune.” He points at you then before pushing himself to sit on the unused side of the counter. 
You open your mouth to say something but shrug instead, your hands focusing on the small fabric strands at your sleeves. He’s mentioned this a few times, every time he tries something you cook he ends up showering you with compliments. It’s sweet, how much he likes your baking and cooking and you have considered selling what you make but the idea terrifies you. Having someone pay for what you make, you’d rather just gift them to friends and family.
The first time you cooked for him, he almost begged you to help him cook for Sarah’s birthday the following week. You didn’t believe him when he told you he was a terrible cook. He ended up cooking for you that night to prove you wrong and after he made you spaghetti, you thought it would be better if he just stuck to prepping while you did the rest of the work for Sarah’s birthday dinner. You didn’t think someone could mess up spaghetti that badly, you were proven very wrong.
It’s been a few months since you moved in next door to Joel and it took him no longer than a week to start offering help in renovating. Took two weeks before he started coming over without the excuse of helping out and just wanting to hang out. 
It’s been nice, the constant company that doesn’t feel like you’re suffocating your own social battery. It’s the easy, effortless conversations that instead fill your social battery instead of draining it like others tend to do. There have been nights where nothing is said for hours, each just bathing in each other's company as you each do your own little hobbies, not demanding attention. 
There’s been times where you’re so stuck in your book you forget Joel is sitting across the room, tools in his hands as he carves away at another design. It’s not until he walks over to show you that you get the fright of your life, forgetting that you’re not alone.  
You fall into another easy conversation as Joel impatiently waits for the cookies to be ready. He updates you on the bench he’s building for your patio, and you get lost in how passionate he becomes when he talks about his job. His hands start moving the more he talks, the corner of his mouth twitching as he explains how he overcame something when it wasn’t quite working the way he wanted it to. 
You could listen to him for hours. You have listened to him for hours. 
You offered to pay him of course, but he said a batch of cookies was more than enough payment.
You make him coffee as he talks, already knowing how he likes it due to the amount of times he’s ended up over at your house in the mornings while his daughter Sarah had a house full of teenage girls over. He’d stumble over half awake and plant his face on the counter as he waits for the coffee to brew, his hair a mess and clothes crumbled. Hard to sleep when they stay up all night fuckin’ laughin and playing games. As much as he complains about it, you know he loves that his daughter ended up with a nice group of friends, even if they keep him up all night. 
You pour his coffee and he takes it as he mentions he’s almost finished outside. He’s rambling now and you’re half listening as you place a few cookies on a plate. His eyes light up and he shuts up as you turn back around with the cookies. This time you don’t swat his hand away as he takes one. 
His eyes close as he takes a bite and you smile, knowing that you made him happy. “So fuckin good.” he mumbles with a mouth full. 
You’re standing in front of him when he opens his eyes, and you can’t seem to read his face as you smile up at him. His eyes seep into you and it lingers on your skin as his eyes flicker down to your lips. The room goes quiet besides the music in the background. 
And then he puts his coffee down along with the cookie, his hands reaching for the sleeves of your dress. Your heart is in your throat by the time he pulls you between his thighs, one hand on your wrist while the other rests at the back of your neck. 
Your smile is gone, eyes wide as his own burn into yours. Then his hand on your neck ever so slowly pulls you in, giving you time to move away. You don’t. 
The first press of his lips on yours steals the air from your lungs and leaves you completely breathless, completely entranced by the sensation of his touch. Your muscles loosen, your mind clears, and any sense of tension in your body disappears. You feel like putty in his hands, every ounce of your trust and affection poured into this single moment. He could do anything he wishes, and you would simply allow it. 
His lips are soft and comforting, the stubble a welcomed contrast as they move over yours again and again. There's a sweet and sensual feeling in the air, the connection between you both being amplified with every kiss.     
His hand trails up the back of your neck and into your hair, his fingers lacing themselves through the strands and pulling a deep sigh from you. The tender, intimate touch is causing you to melt, your body and mind slowly responding to his touch. The feel of his hand in your hair is both soothing and stimulating, drawing out a shiver from you.
He pulls away all too soon, leaving you wanting more. He holds you close, his warm breath fanning over your face as he looks into your eyes. You can see the smile slowly settling on his face as he sees your gaze, the longer he looks down at you the more his smile seems to grow. 
“I think you taste better.” He confesses in a whisper, his hand leaves your wrist and settles at the small of your back. 
You try to speak, but the words keep failing to escape your lips. You want to say so much, but there are so many thoughts and feelings racing through your mind that you can't translate them into words. It makes your tongue tired as it struggles to say how you feel, as if your feelings have completely filled your brain and left it with nothing left to speak.
At your lack of response, Joel's smile widens and his lips move down to kiss you once again, this time with even more tenderness and affection. The touch of his lips on yours is soft and gentle, sending an intoxicating sense of joy and comfort that sweeps through you. As his lips move over yours, brushing over them in a sweet and sensual way, you can feel yourself falling further into his arms.
And you think that maybe, you like the taste of your cookies better on his lips as he kisses you. The lingering flavours of vanilla and chocolate seem to blend perfectly with his mouth, as if designed to perfectly complement each other.
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Notes
little thank you to @janaispunk for tagging me in the pinterest moodboard game and therefore making me sit on pinterest for an hour looking at cookies to bake and then write this. Thinking of making this a small series. Just small scenes losely based around rupi kaur poety as I read through their books.
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joemama-2 · 20 days ago
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ten reasons i love you
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pairing: gojo x fem reader tags/warnings: angst, angst, angst, light fluff, smut, death, divider by @cafekitsune
word count: 2459
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Reason #1: you’re patient
Sometimes, I get a little jealous. I wish I were like you, and I try to be, but no one could ever be like you. You handled every situation, every wrongdoing, every argument, every fight, with grace. A simple and natural elegance.
Every time, it proved why I fell in love with you. 
But, I love when you’re patient with me. I know I can be hard to handle sometimes, annoying, or an “ass”, whichever name you decided to grace me with that day. You stayed with me, even when sometimes I wished you hadn’t. Because I knew you deserved, deserve, better.
“Can’t you just tell me all the reasons now?”
“Nope, that would ruin the surprise. You get your next reason next week.”
A gentle kiss to the forehead, followed by one to your cheeks, nose, and then lips.
Reason #2: the way you laugh
I know it’s getting hard to do that now, but when you finally do, it’s the most pleasant sound my ears have ever heard, that my body has ever felt when you giggle against my neck. It sounds like a sweet melody, one that makes you warm. One that makes you smile, without noticing. 
I don’t think anyone could ever have as beautiful as laugh as you do. Even then, it wouldn’t compete.
The way you laugh sounds so natural like you don’t care who hears. I miss your laughs so much. Whenever I hear it, in that moment, everything is okay. Everything is perfect. Because you’re perfect. 
It’s the sound of joy that fills up a room and my heart. I wish I could listen to it forever.
“I didn’t take you for a poet.”
Satoru laughs, dimple more prominent. “I can be cute when I want to.”
You smile, followed by your oh-so-precious laugh. He practically melts on the spot. He can hear the rattling in your chest he’s unfortunately become familiar with. But his face doesn’t fall, instead, he holds you closer and presses a kiss to your hairline. 
It feels like just yesterday when you both got the news, when your lives changed. It’s the second week, but he just prays for time to slow down. For he’s not ready for the future. 
Reason #3: your determination
It’s so beautiful to see. The way you try and try, even after failure. The way you never give up. Maybe it’s because you’re a bit stubborn, but you never back down. It’s a quiet strength about you that I hope you can make loud one day.
You’re fierce, but quiet. Determinated, but timid. I’ve never seen those combinations before, but now that I have, I love it. 
“I wish I was still strong enough.”
His heart breaks at the sight before him, along with your resigned tone of voice. Pushing some strands of hair out of your eyes. “Listen,” he murmurs, head titling. “You are strong, then and now. You will always be strong. Do you want to know why?”
“Why?”
“Because I know you. And I know you’re not ready to give up, just like I’m not giving up on you. We’ll both fight this. In the end, I’ll buy you that ice cream you really like.”
Tears fill your eyes, a sad smile playing on your lips. “Okay, I can’t wait.”
Reason #4: your creativity
I know you’re trying to find ways to take your mind off the now, I am too. I didn’t think someone was capable of picking up on hobbies so fast, but the gloves you knitted me say otherwise. Oh, and the cute little crotchet animals that now take residency on my side of the bed. But I’ll let that slide, just for you. (The little gray bunny is my enemy, btw.)
I wish I was as creative as you. It’s like your juices just get flowing and once you start, you don’t stop. I love seeing it happen in real-time. It makes you happy, I know that. So it makes me happy too.
I’ve been getting more yarn now when I’m out, it’s kind of just like second nature now, I guess. They’re starting to pile up, but I hope one day they’ll all be gone. 
“Keep her off her feet more.” The doctor tells Satoru, who currently stands with a pensive expression, fingers curling around your own. “Your wife needs all the rest she can get, so if you can, keep her on bedrest with less strenuous activities.”
Bedrest. 
That word alone shakes you to your core, a prime example of your deteriorating condition. You can hear your weakened heart pound in your ears, tears threatening to fall from your eyes. If you’re being advised to be put on bed rest, what hope is left for you?
Almost none.
Reason #5: how you care about people
“That’s ironic, isn’t it?” You huff out, a wince soon taking over. 
Satoru’s comforting hand places itself on your pale one, smiling. “Just keep reading.”
With one final breath out, your eyes travel down to the small journal, reading today’s entry.
You have a certain way of making people feel seen. Including others in conversation, making sure no one is left out. You listen when needed, comfort when needed, and give advice when needed. Even if you’re not doing the best yourself.
You make people feel important, make me feel important. You look beyond titles and hierarchies and just see…me. 
If someone’s at their lowest, you make them feel seen. I’ve seen it, I’ve experienced it, and I love it.
You don’t even know you’re reaching out for him until his arms wrap securely around your waist. Careful not to drop his full weight onto your frail body. But god do you wish he did, you missed how things were before.
Hot tears stain his shirt and Satoru feels his own set begin to let loose. He’s always been good at comforting you when you’re crying, but that doesn’t mean he doesn’t cry with you. 
Reason #6: the way you make the mundane beautiful 
“Mundane.” You repeat, coughing. 
“Mundane.” Satoru confirms, holding your hands. “Do you think mundane is bad?”
“I feel like I can’t even do mundane things now.”
His head shakes. “You can, and you do. Life is mundane with you, but it’s also exciting, beautiful.”
With a jut of his chin towards the journal, you take the hint and continue reading.
How you can turn something so ordinary into something magical is still beyond me. Maybe you’re a secret witch (I would like that). You look for the beauty in things.
The way the sun hits the leaves, the sound of rain, or the way our hands fit together. You see the world in a way no one else does.
I see the beauty in you too. When your nose crinkles because of my “smelly” socks, your head tilting when you’re confused, or even that look you give me when I say something stupid or funny. I like admiring you, and I like the way you admire. 
Reason #7: how you make me a better person
There’s a resounding thump noise as you throw the journal into the wall. Health slowly failing along with your own mental stability. Satoru holds back a frown, feeling himself uncomfortably shift beside you.
“What’s wrong, baby?” He gently asks.
“I don’t wanna read anymore.” Your voice is bordering on unrecognizable, the rattling in your chest more prominent.
He heaves a small sigh, walking over to pick the book up and back to you. Sitting on the edge of the bed and carefully regarding you with an examining gaze. “Why not?”
Many reasons. “I-It just makes me emotional, Satoru.” 
“What’s wrong with that?”
“Everything!” You shout, looking at him with a pitiful expression. “I’m already fucked up as it is, I don’t wanna cry anymore!”
God, is this really testing his emotional resilience. But that’s not what you need right now. “I know, I know you don’t, baby. But look at it like this,” he scoots closer, fingers intertwining with yours. “There’s nothing wrong with crying, it means we’re still human, it makes us feel….complete sometimes. And I know you’re trying hard to hold everything in, I see it. But please, just let everything out, don’t worry about the mess. Because I’m here.”
Your hands tremble, no longer fighting back your tears as you hesitantly reach for the outstretched journal and read, tears wetting the page. He holds you close.
You challenge me, in the best way. You push me to be more rational, logical, to be more punctual and caring. You push me to be the best me, you encourage my beliefs and ideas, and you’re there for me when something doesn’t fall through.
Without you, I can’t be who I am today. Without you, I’m not me.
You’ve made me the best me, by just being yourself. 
Next week, you’re saying bye to your forever home. Being forced to spend your last days in an uncomfortable hospital with a scent that you hate. This is the last time you’ll walk these halls, use that stove, watch that TV, sleep in that bed.
You cling to him like a lifeline, sometimes you wish he was. 
Soft cries fill the otherwise dim and quiet room, his arms wrapped around your body. Your arms are around his neck, legs opened wide enough so he can fully accommodate his body between them. The way he deliciously slides in and out, in the slowest and gentlest manner, all for your sake. Small moans and grunts fall from your guys’ lips.
The last time he’ll ever make love to you.
“Reason #8: the way you love me.” 
You almost break down even more at the sound of his cracking voice, noticing the shaky inhale he does as he looks down at you, hips moving in a steady motion. 
“You love me so fully, so unconditionally.” he starts off, grunting quietly as your walls squeeze around him. “It’s not about perfection with you. It’s about the way you choose me. Every day, even when we’re not at our best. I know I’m loved because you show it, every moment, in a thousand little ways.”
His lips kiss and gently suck on your pulse point, tongue darting out to lick and savor your sweaty skin. The tip of his cock hits your g-spot in a rhythm that has you whimpering out, nails digging into his shoulders. Your head tilts back slightly, he guides it back with one free hand and kisses you passionately. 
He swallows your moans and tastes your tears. His tears fall onto your cheeks, mixing in with everything. 
This isn’t just about sex, but it’s about being one with each other. It’s about savoring each other like it’s your last breath, melting into each other’s bodies, and loving you in the most intimate way.
He commits this to memory. 
Satoru stays by your side every day and every night. He doesn’t leave, even when he’s prompted by you to eat and sleep. But he can’t, not when this could be the last time he’ll ever talk to you. 
You look so fragile, so out of place in the hospital bed. The gown one size too big and he just wanted to take you in his arms and into a far-away place. Away from the hospital, away from this heart condition, and just with him. 
You can barely even keep your eyes fully open, multiple wires running through your body to keep you conscious. But you still hold onto his hand, tightly, as if you never want to let go.
And you don’t. Neither does Satoru,
Pale skin and dry lips. Everything about you screams illness. No matter that, you force yourself to stay coherent while he reads. 
“Reason #:9”, he looks at you, “the way you feel like home.”
Satoru forces his voice to remain steady, smiling at you. “Being with you is a safe place, a shelter from this cruel and dirty world. No matter where I am, where you are, where we are, I’m exactly where I’m supposed to be. You make me feel seen, understood, loved. Nothing else matters but us. Your touch, your voice, your presence, that’s all home to me, and I’m so happy I finally found my home.”
Warm tears slowly trickle down your cheeks, your smile feeling like it’s too hard to handle. “You’re my home too, Satoru. I….I don’t wanna leave home.”
A shaky breath. “You won’t.” His hand squeezes you tighter, planting a chaste kiss on your cracked lips. “I’ll always be here, I’ll always follow you. Just keep holding onto me, okay?”
“O-okay.” You croak out, sniffling. 
That night, he falls asleep with you. Holding you like he always does. Whispering sweet nothings into your ear, thumb tracing lazy circles on your knuckles. Your warmth keeps him going, but it also makes him sleepy.
It’s only then does he realizes something. 
He’s happy. He’s so, so happy. He’s with you, you’re with him, and everything else fades away. Because it’s just you two. As much as it hurts, he wants you to go peacefully, and with him.
So, as the hours pass and when he opens his eyes. He’s met with a cold body, an unmoving form in his arms. And tears mixing in with your hair as he hugs you tight one last time.
“Reason #10.”
He sets the bouquet of white roses down on the cold stone, kneeling down before it. Your name stares back at him. 
“The best one, in my opinion. You know….I really hate how I couldn’t tell you this last one in person. But you’re still listening, aren’t you?” He places his hand above your name and a small gust of wind replies back. He smiles. 
“The way you taught me to live.”
“You taught me to how to live, not just in ‘big moments’, but in the small ones too. The moments that matter. The times we spent together, the quiet talks, the laughter, the shared silences. You’ve shown me that life isn’t about counting days—it’s about making days count.”
After leaving, he can’t help but cry. Fingers twitching by his sides, ears ringing. He blocks out the world. Until there’s a small rustling in the bushes beside him. He stops and looks.
He laughs.
“Guess you’re still keeping an eye on me, huh?”
Staring back, a cute little gray bunny. Its ears twitch, as if acknowledging him.
He takes a step closer, then kneels down, his voice softening. "Don’t worry. I’ll be okay. I promise."
He looks at the bunny one last time before standing up and walking away, feeling an inexplicable sense of comfort. 
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