#V.T

[giggly-squiggily]

Okay I got through watching this Christmas movie with Aimee Garcia, and she can sing and dance, and I'm just like okay... Aunt Nelly can sing and dance. I don't make the rules here.

AHHH WAIT I LOVE THAT???

Aunt Nelly singing along with her favorite songs as she makes cookies, her scrubs replaced with comfy sweats as she sways and steps around the kitchen. She pulls Vlad into it; he's a bit clumsy in the footing but he's having so much fun he forgets he's supposed to act like he hates it lols (he might give her some reluctance- a dramatic eye roll and groan that's so fake he can't even hold it without grinning) Through her he learns to dance, and he's able to impress Snow with his dance moves when they eventually get together kjarkjajerej

With Otis? They're slow dancing 100%. She'll guide him in her arms until he takes charge, slowly rocking her around the kitchen as she sings love songs to him. He can kinda sing? Not nearly as good as her but he can hold a tune. They perform little duets that end with them kissing and Vlad has to literally evacuate the house before he pukes rainbows from how lovey dovey they are akjlrejkarjej (JK he's beyond happy for them, but he does leave before things get...interesting)

Thank you for sharing friend!

[vartouhix]

@divinezenin

Jangmi's eyes scanned over what she'd written, trying to figure out what else to put in her confession, or how to edit it to make it less cringe.

Suguru,

I want to confess that I really like you. I think you're so kind, brave, and smart... not to mention handsome... and so many other things, too. You're honestly my ideal type... I wanted to ask if you would consider getting to know me better to see if maybe you'd be interested in being my boyfriend...

She zoned out a little as she sat on the bench thinking, fingers loosening enough on the folded paper she held until a particularly persistent breeze carried it away out of her hold. Jangmi gasped, jumping up from her spot to follow after the paper--a love letter to her crush--as it blew across the track field. "W-wait! Come back!" she cried.

[ntsawos]

Σήμερα ένιωσα την ανάγκη να σε θυμηθώ, να σε ξαναζωντανέψω στο μυαλό μου, στη συνείδηση μου. Πάνε πολλοί μήνες που δεν έγραψα κάτι, με σένα, για σένα. Ξέρω, δεν έχει νόημα. Για μένα πάντως, πάντα θα έχει.

Δεν είναι πως σ' έχω ξεχάσει, πως σ' έχω παραμερίσει. Το αντίθετο. Πολύ συχνά ανοίγω τα μηνύματα στο profile σου. Έτσι. Για να σε δω, με το μυαλό. Να σε φανταστώ. Να πιστέψω πως είσαι καλά, όπου κι αν βρίσκεσαι. Εάν είσαι!

Μπαίνω, λείπεις. Βγαίνω, μπαίνεις - συχνά 5-10 φορές την ημέρα. Μοναξιά άραγε? Άλλοτε απουσιάζεις μέρες, δουλειές ξέρω. Υποθέτω δηλαδή. Ποτέ δεν άφησες περιθώριο, για το παραμικρό. Μπαίνω, είσαι μέσα κι αποχωρώ, τι νόημα θα είχε να μείνω? Πέρασε καιρός που θα μπορούσαμε κάτι να είχαμε πει, μα δεν το κάναμε όταν έπρεπε. Τώρα το χάος είναι ακόμα πιο μεγάλο. Μπαίνω, σε λίγο αποχωρείς, μοιάζει σαν ενόχληση. Ξαναμπαίνω αργότερα, πάλι μέσα, πάλι φευγιό. Το παιχνίδι της γάτας με το ποντίκι. Τι νόημα έχει?

Σήμερα ξαναδιάβασα κάποιες ιστορίες που έγραψα παλιότερα -ήσουν αιτία κι αφορμή. Γιατί??? Έτσι. Ένοιωσα την ανάγκη να δώ τα χνάρια που άφησες μέσα μου. Ξεκλείδωσα πες τη ντουλάπα μου για να δω τα φαντάσματα μου. Ένα. Ψέμα, ένα αλησμόνητο. Ένα ιδιαίτερο, ένα ανεκτίμητο. Ένα, ανάμεσα στ' άλλα, τα αδιάφορα.

Ξανακλείδωσα. Ψέμα. Για 3η-4η φορά μου γλίστρησε το κινητό. Άθελα. Βιντεοκλήση, άθελα. Στην προσπάθεια να το συγκρατήσω τα δάχτυλα πάτησαν τα πλήκτρα. Πανικοβλήθηκα ξανά. Έκλεισα αυτόματα. Συγνώμη ξανά. Ασυναίσθητο λάθος. Ίσως το μυαλό τελικά να συνομωτεί συνειδητά προσπαθώντας να πετύχει τους υποσυνείδητους στόχους του. Μα, δεν θα το έκανα ποτέ ηθελημένα. Προτιμώ να πω τα πάντα με φυσική παρουσία, παρά έτσι.

Τα μάτια λένε είναι ο καθρέφτης της ψυχής. Πάντα ήθελα, και θέλω να τα ξαναδώ. Κι ίσως, έτσι, μιλήσουν τα δικά μου. Ίσως για ώρες. Μα αρκούν και λίγα δευτερόλεπτα, είμαι σίγουρος, για να τα πουν όλα. Όσα δε λέει κανένα ΜΚΔ.

[popeyesmith]

Prehistoric Nazis: Alley Oop Knows a Fascist When He Sees One

[ad-lucem-et-amor]

"He searched her eyes intently. But not probing or intrusively. Then he looked away, not in a rush or embarrassment, but as if he were leaving a room to get something he realized was amiss. Her eyes searched his face, tracing his features like gentle fingertips. As if her fingertip gaze moved his, he emerged from his interior castle. In a soft sacredness only a cherubim could utter, he exhaled "I think God wanted us to meet..." In her beautiful mess, his eyes bore love."

[librospdfgratismundoepub]

Noche de cuarto menguante - Hawah V.T. (2023)

Leah es una estudiante de último año de periodismo que viaja a un misterioso motel para hacer un trabajo sobre sucesos. En cambio, Retherick es un fantasma amnésico que vaga por el motel Duchamp esperando a alguien que le ayude a averiguar cómo y por qué murió. Leah será la elegida para ayudar a este alma en pena pero, mientras ambos investigan, lo que parece empezar como un pacto amistoso para…

[rickchung]

This Place (dir. V.T. Nayani) x VQFF 2023.

Naynani crafts a touching story of fractured cultural identities focused on the act of forgiveness. Its exploration of land and place (as the title would suggest) beyond geography makes its racial themes so mature and a true reflection of the people who (reluctantly) call Canada home. This Place weaves aspects of Mohawk, Tamil, and Iranian identity organically and thoughtfully as it interrogates the location of where people are actually from.

Premiered at the 2022 Toronto International Film Festival.

[dijidweeeb]

Alley Oop #12 (1947) V.T. Hamlin

[lezkissgifs]

This Place (2022) dir. V.T. Nayani

[tommiruewrites]

Hi! I would like to request a Tewksbury x fem’Reader (romantic)! Reader is Enola Holmes’ sister

So basically, I was hoping for this to take place in Enola Holmes 2 in the theater fight scene. If you remember, Enola almost gets stabbed, but her corset protected her. So what if it was reader instead, and the corset didn’t protect her? Reader does finish the fight like in the movie because she’s just a girlboss like that and has that whole moment with Tewksbury after, but the stab wound finally takes its toll. That’s sort of just the base of the idea, you can do whatever you come up with after that! I sort of think of this as an angst + fluff? Thank you!

Just a Little Longer - V.T.

word count: 1.2k

requested: yes | no requests: open | closed request rules here

warnings: fem!reader, fluff to angst (but mostly angst bc i love to make myself miserable but in a cute poetic way), brief mentions of fighting, talk of blood, major injury, main character death, best friends to lovers/idiots in love, tragedy, holmes!reader, NOT PROOFREAD

a/n: i'm SOOOO sorry, ik it's been ages since you put in this ask, but my adhd slump was a pain in my ass. it has finally been forcibly lifted (by yours truly) bc i want to write again, and i found the start of this fic in my drafts and decided to finish it. i hope you're still active and able to read this, lovely anon! <3

remember to like, comment, and reblog to support my writing <3

part 2

· • —– ٠ ☆ ٠ —– • · • —– ٠ ☆ ٠ —– • · • —– ٠ ☆ ٠ —– • ·

Everything went by in a blur. You were fighting alongside Tewkesbury and Enola, dodging weapons and fists. The next thing you know, you’re on the floor, wind knocked out of you.

A loud crack rings out and you feel an intense pounding in your head, so you guess you must have hit it when you fell back. As you begin to stand, you feel a dull ache in your ribs. You look down to see the cause, and you thank the heavens that you’re wearing one of those god-awful corsets you've always hated so much. Shouldn’t leave more than a nasty bruise.

You hear Tewksbury —who’s still fighting from across the room— call out your name to make sure you’re alright, but you don’t have time to respond. Your sister reaches a hand out to help you up off the floor as she dodges a hit. A bit preoccupied in a fight of her own she misses the silver handle sticking out of your corset.

“Are you alright?” she screams over the chaos.

You stand firm on your feet, still staring down your opponent. “Fine. Just a little fall, nothing I can’t handle.” Pulling the blade from your abdomen, you miss the red glint of blood as you resume the fight.

———————

The battle is over, and the energy is high. You and Tewkesbury bounce off the walls blabbering on about the recent events, adrenaline running through you while Enola concludes the investigation with your brother, Sherlock.

“Did you see me! I got some really good ones in there. Think I got him in the nose!”

You laugh, breath like shard of glass in your lungs from the cold, "You were wonderful! Just like I showed you."

He beams at that, his cheeks glowing a warm pink, which he hopes could be chalked up to the biting chill outside, “You didn’t do so bad out there yourself.”

“Not bad?” you scoff, "You must have missed the look on that guy’s face when I threw him across the room!"

You both laugh softly, your breath visible in the winter air. You ignore the tight feeling in your lungs.

Suddenly you’re both hyper aware of the lack of space between you. Looking between his cold pink lips and his glassy doe eyes, you hold your breath as he begins to lean closer.

Just as you feel his intoxicating lips graze yours, your knees buckle beneath you. You try to steady yourself against Tewksbury, hand pressed against his chest, as he quickly grabs your waist to hold you up. He chuckles a bit as he tries to help you regain your footing, but immediately stops when notices that you’re practically limp in his hold.

“What's wrong? Talk to me.”

It feels like your chest is collapsing in on itself, and your head starts to spin. “Oh- I’m fine. Just cold.” Mostly reassuring yourself, nothing bad could happen right? You won after all. You beat them. Your family is safe and your best friend that you've been in love with for years is finally kissing you. Those are all good things. Really good things. So it's just the cold making you feel weak and breathless, right?

“I’m just really, really tired.”

Just as you begin to stand up straighter, sharp pain shoots through your stomach and your knees buckle again, causing Tewkesbury to almost fall over. He panics when he hears a gasp that sounds too much like you’re in pain.

“Enola! Something’s wrong!”

Enola and Sherlock stop their current debate and immediately notice your uncharacteristically frail state, rushing over to help Tewkesbury get you on the ground. They sit you down as quickly as possible without hurting you, your back to Tewksbury’s chest so he can keep you stable. His shaky hand tremble against your hips as he surveys your body for injuries. Enola kneels to be eye-level with you, “What's going on? Are you hurt?”

"No-" You nod your head, "I'm fine, I just-" you cut yourself short, unable to create a more convincing reply as a groan of pain rips through you. Thats when Enola notices a deep tear in your dress.

“Her corset. Take off her corset!”

Enola and Sherlock work to quickly remove the thick article of clothing, Tewksbury squeezing your hand reassuringly when you wince at the movement of him lifting your arms. Once the corset is successfully removed, a deep cut reveals itself, crimson red seeping through your under-dress. "Oh my god-"

You look up, the concern in Tewkesbury’s voice making you nervous. “What is it? Is something wrong?”

Enola grabs your focus when she presses her hands against your wound.

"Oh..."

Sherlock frantically removes his coat to tie around you and try to stop the bleeding. “Nothing's wrong. Nothing at all. You’re going to be just fine.” He rambles out, trying to calm both you and himself.

In your hazy state you can't fully sense the anxiety all around you, or how serious your injury truly is. You only register one thing. You’re going to be just fine. Your brother would never lie to you. Not ever.

Your breathing begins to slow as you relax, leaning your head back against Tewkesbury's shoulder. You begin to feel your own shoulder dampen. Looking over at the cause, you see Tewksbury’s face tacked with glistening streaks down his cheeks, staring at Enola and Sherlock frantically try to stop the bleeding as he helps where he can.

“Tewks?” His eyes jump to yours, sniffling. “What's the matter? Why are you crying?”

Much to your dismay, that makes him cry harder. "Nothing’s the matter."

You reach a weak hand up to wipe tears from his cheek as more roll down in their place. “Then why are you crying?”

There’s a long pause, your sibling’s desperate shouting falling deaf on your ears as a faint ringing replaces it. "I’m just so proud of you is all."

You smile at that, "I'm proud of you too, fighter." You tease. He chuckles weakly, not surprised that your wit is still intact even as you're bleeding out. Your eyes begin to feel heavy as you stare into his, eyelids fluttering open and closed.

“Hey! Hey, keep your eyes open for me. Just a little bit longer.” He stammers, squeezing your hand to keep you awake. "We just need a few more minutes. Just a few more minutes, and then you can rest, alright?"

You groan in discomfort, feeling all of your energy go into the one simple task as your body begins to feel floaty and numb. “Tired.”

“I know, I know. Just a little longer. I promise everything will be fine. I promise. Just please, don’t close your eyes.” He sobs out desperately, interlacing his fingers with yours.

Enola and Sherlock keep trying everything in their power to stop the bleeding, sobbing and begging for anything to work. For you to be okay. You try your best to keep your eyes open for them, you really do, but it’s just too difficult. You can hear distant shouts of your name as you finally let the peaceful darkness consume you.

[giggly-squiggily]

OH THIS IS SO CUTE!!! CUTE CUTE CUTE BEYOND CUTE AHHHHHH! @nutzgunray-lvt Thank you so so much for this submission! I loved every word!

Here it is! I hope you like it! Since I headcanon Nelly's face claim to be Aimee Garcia, a Puerto Rican-Mexican American actress, I attributed that to Nelly as well.

How To Cure Jet Lag In One Easy Step

The smell of baked goods and cleaning products practically overwhelmed the house, as did Nelly's 'Now That's What I Call A Puerto Rican Christmas!' playlist. It wasn't doing a whole lot in helping Vlad get a handle on his roller-coaster of feelings and laundry list of things to do, but he figured that pretending his aunt was in the vicinity would help get his motivation going.

Unfortunately, the knowledge that she was currently in the trenches of a double shift at the hospital really killed the attempted immersion.

As did the timer for the cookies.

Growling in frustration at the contrasting smells and sounds, he switched off the music and turned off the timer. After he set his fifth batch of chocolate chip cookies on the already crowded kitchen table, he sank into his spot and put his head in his hands as he sighed heavily.

For glob's sake, why did his life have to be such a mess?

In between the existence of a vampire slayer who was hunting him down, his upcoming finals, his vampire homework, and the Christmas decorations that he promised Nelly he'd get a head start on, his brain felt like a used up, messy clump of Play Doh - and that wasn't even counting how he was adjusting to being back in the United States after his week in Siberia.

On top of adjusting back to the human sleep cycle that always left him the slightest bit grouchy, he also had jetlag to contend with. Jetlag and just under 24 hours of a sleepless flight that consisted of layover after layover.

It left him a frazzled, sleep deprived mess.

A brush against his leg startled him to the point that he banged his knee on the kitchen table, and the loud swear that left his mouth was one that he wasn't really sure if Otis would be proud of or disapproving of.

"Vladimir?"

And given how unimpressed his uncle appeared to be as he stood in the foyer, cradling a spooked Amenti in his arms, it appeared that he was the latter.

Great.

"It's not like I know what that word means, Uncle Otis," Vlad sheepishly tried justifying himself as he got up and went to give Amenti an apologetic scratch behind the ears. He was pleased to see her close her eyes and purr happily as she butted her head up into his hand.

Apology accepted, and he got cat purrs as well.

Nice.

"I heard Vikas say it once, and… I don't know, it just came to me. Look, aren't you more happy that I'm remembering spoken Elysian Code better?" he asked as he gave Amenti's nose bridge a gentle rub.

Vlad had thought that it wasn't possible for his uncle to look anymore unimpressed than he already was, but as he set Amenti down, the look he gave his nephew as he stood back up said it all.

"Remind me to remind Vikas to watch his language around you," Otis muttered moreso to himself, pinching the bridge of his nose as he sighed heavily. "You may not technically be a child, but I won't tolerate any foul language coming out of your mouth, Elysian Code or not. Agreed?"

The teen barely held back from rolling his eyes as he nodded and echoed, "Agreed."

As the older vampire opened his eyes and straightened back up, his brow furrowed and his nose wrinkled as he finally caught the conflicting scents permeating the air as well as the sheer number of baked goods crowding the kitchen counters and tables.

"Vladimir…" he slowly asked as he approached the table and took a cookie for himself. "Why does the kitchen look like you're in the process of opening a bakery?" 

On any other day, a (relatively) well rested Vlad that wasn't battling jet lag and a large to-do list would have taken the question as it was: an admittedly leading question from an incredibly concerned uncle. But today, Vlad was battling jet lag and a large to-do-list, which made him suck his teeth in as he snapped, "Well it sounds to me like you already know the answer to that, don't you, Uncle Otis? You know I bake when I'm stressed, and given how you think I'm trying to go behind Nelly's back and open an at home bakery, I'm clearly really stressed out!"

He stormed into the living room and collapsed onto the couch, hugging a pillow to his face as he screamed into it. It… didn't do much to help him feel better, and really, it only made him feel ashamed at snapping at Otis the way he did. Since day one, his uncle was nothing but patient with him. From being accused of being a crazy murderer to nearly being blasted to kingdom come with the Lucis, he took it all in stride - even before he told him they were related.

When was he ever going to be a nephew that Otis would be proud of? 

From the way things were looking, It looked like it was going to be never.

As Vlad tried suffocating himself with the pillow, he could sense his uncle's swirling thoughts of guilt and worry before he entered the room. He could feel the pillow being pulled off his face and see how sad he truly was before he was exposed to light and air again, and he could tell what Otis was going to murmur before the words left his lips:

"You look exhausted, Vladimir. How much sleep have you gotten?"

The question was quietly asked with no force behind it, but it took the wind out of Vlad's sails all the same. He closed his eyes and muttered, "I don't know, Uncle Otis. I haven't been able to sleep since we got back from Siberia a few days ago, and-and with everything else going on like the finals and decorating the house and the slayer -"

"You're jet lagged," Otis patiently explained as he moved around the couch to sit by his nephew's legs. "You're already dealing with much more than a fifteen year old boy should have on his plate, and trying to readjust to the time zone difference isn't helping."

The teen grunted as he grabbed the pillow and placed it over his face again.

"Well, that along with the fact that I have to actually sleep at night now," he sniped, his voice muffled by the fabric. "It's hard, Uncle Otis. It's hard, and it's really not fair."

The sympathetic chuckle from the man in question made Vlad's scowl deepen, and before he could put up a proper fight, the pillow was once again snatched away from him. 

"We need to tackle one problem at a time, as well as divide and conquer, Vladimir," Otis explained. "Why don't I get started on the Christmas decorations while you get some sleep?"

The teen didn't mean to look so disgusted at his uncle's honestly helpful suggestion, but the way the man burst out laughing only made him double down even more, especially as he felt his cheeks redden in embarrassment.

"I can't take a nap!" he protested. "I'm fifteen, not five! Fifteen year olds don't take naps! Besides, do you even know how to set up Christmas lights? You almost started a fire trying to make atole, so I think I should be on the lookout for more Uncle Otis mishaps, especially if they involve gas or electricity, wouldn't you say so?"

On any other day when Vlad's internal clock wasn't running thirteen hours behind, he would have realized that he made a horrible mistake in saying that. He would have noticed how his uncle's brow rose in amusement before he smiled - bared his teeth really - and went for the kill. But today - for the past few days - Vlad's internal clock was thirteen hours behind, so the only thing he noticed before his brain completely dissolved into goofy mush was the fingers gently but firmly digging into his ribs.

"Nohohoho Un-Uncle Otihihihis!" he screamed through his frantic laughter, his body twitching like he had just been struck by lightning. "What-WhatdidIdo?!" he hurriedly screeched as he tried and failed to pull his uncle's hands away from him.

"Why don't we run through them together, dear nephew of mine?" Otis playfully asked, chuckling when he spidered his fingers down to that terrible, awful spot on his lower ribs that turned his laughs into something resembling bird chirps. "First, you've had quite the foul mouth on you today. Second, there's the sass I got from you for expressing my concern about your wellbeing. Third, you're tired and jet lagged and this is the one way to help you go. To. Sleep."

He punctuated each point with a pinch to that awful, horrible spot, and what could Vlad do when that happened? He could do what he always did when that particular death spot of his was being attacked:

Nothing.

Absolutely nothing other than laugh, scream, squeal, flail around, and chirp like a bird.

"Why don't we go over your recent homework?" Otis asked conversationally, as if he wasn't being the evil uncle that Vlad first saw him as. "We can use that as a gauge to see whether or not you're ready to go to sleep. Won't that be fun, Vladimir?"

As the teen desperately nodded through his teary eyed, squeaky laughter, he gasped for air as the gentle yet agonizing pinches to his lower ribs came to an end. He rubbed his flushed face and took in air like had spent an eternity underwater, and after a minute, he gave his uncle a thumbs up.

"Alright then, where is the one continent in the world that vampires don't live -"

"Antarctica!" 

The way Otis evily smiled at him threw Vlad for a loop, and before he could protest - that was the right answer! - the spot right above his kneecap was being assaulted with awful squeezes, and the teen was a mess of shrill laughter.

"Bu-But wahahahait!" he frantically begged. "Tha-Thatwasright, thatwasright!"

"I never said you needed to give me the right answer, Vladimir," the older man wryly remarked as he scribbled his fingers behind Vlad's knees. "Why don't we move on to the next question?"

"Do-Do I eheheven have a chohoice?" The teen asked through his breathless giggling as his uncle gave him a reprieve.

"No, I'm afraid not," Otis answered with a smug smile. "I need concrete evidence that you're finally tired enough to go to sleep, and I also need to make sure you're keeping up with studying the Compendium. It kills two birds with one stone."

Vlad shook his head, though the smile on his face really said it all.

"You're evil, Uncle Otis. You know that?" he asked.

The man in question shrugged.

"You may have told me that a few times, but if my evil ways are what gets you to sleep, then so be it," he remarked. "Now for the next question… who is the youngest vampire to sit on the Grand Council since the Black Death, and what is the minimum age a vampire can be to be voted onto the Grand Council?"

Vlad's eyes widened, and before he could answer, his uncle's horrible hands shot up and under his shirt and his fingers began dancing across his belly.

"THAT'S-THAT'S TWO QUEHEHEHESTIONS!" Vlad shrieked through his hysterical laughter. "NOHOHOHOT FAHAHAIR! NOHOHOHO!"

"The clock is ticking, Vladimir!" Otis teased, poking and prodding at his nephew's stomach. 

"I CAHAHAN'T! I CAHAHAHAN'T!" the teen wailed, his laughter going near silent from how agonizingly ticklish everything was. "I GIHIHIVE UP! PLEHEHEASE!"

"Are you sure?" The older vampire teasingly asked, feeling a twinge sadistic as he scratched a finger into his nephew's belly button. "Are you absolutely sure that you don't know the answers to these questions?"

All Vlad could do was tap out like his very life depended on it, and when the tickling finally stopped, he curled in on himself and gasped for air in between yawns. 

"You're… so mean… Uncle Otis," he muttered as he rubbed his eyes and got himself comfortable. "Did I… Did I ever tell you that?"

"You just did a few seconds ago, Vladimir," Otis answered as he gave him back his pillow from earlier. He nodded in thanks as he placed it under his head, and he couldn't help but happily sigh as he felt himself being covered with a blanket. The last thing he registered before finally going to sleep was a hand brushing his hair out of his face and a caring voice softly saying,

"And if being evil is what it takes to ensure you get some much needed rest, then so be it."

Was that Uncle Otis? 

His dad?

It didn't matter. 

What mattered was that by now, they were one in the same, and that knowledge was what was letting him sleep in peace.

That, and getting the life tickled out of him.

[vartouhix]

@limitlessscion liked for a starter

Jangmi’s eyes scanned over what she’d written, trying to figure out what else to put in her confession, or how to edit it to make it less likely that the recipient would cringe while reading it.

Suguru,

I want to confess that I really like you. I think you’re so kind, brave, and smart… not to mention handsome… and so many other things, too. You’re honestly my ideal type… I wanted to ask if you would consider getting to know me better to see if maybe you’d be interested in being my boyfriend…

She zoned out a little as she sat on the bench thinking, fingers loosening enough on the folded paper she held until a particularly persistent breeze carried it away out of her hold. Jangmi gasped, jumping up from her spot to follow after the paper–a love letter to her crush–as it blew across the track field. “W-wait! Come back!” she cried.

[ntsawos]

Ψέματα;

Αν καμιά φορά βρεθούμε

δε θα πούμε ούτε γεια

μες στο πλήθος θα χαθούμε

μ’ ένα δάκρυ στην ματιά

Κι αν φωνάξω τ’ όνομά σου

θα κοιτάξεις στα κλεφτά

και θα κάνεις για φαντάσου

πως δε με θυμάσαι πια

Κι αν ρωτήσεις πώς περνάω

θα σου πω δυο ψέματα

ένα πως δε σ’ αγαπάω

κι ένα πως σε ξέχασα (Χ2)

Αν καμιά φορά βρεθούμε

η ανάσα θα κοπεί

ούτε λέξη δεν θα πούμε

μα, θα τα ‘χουμ’ όλα πει

Κι αν φωνάξω τ’ όνομά σου

θα κοιτάξεις στα κλεφτά

και θα κάνεις, για φαντάσου

πως δε με θυμάσαι πια

Κι αν ρωτήσεις πώς περνάω

θα σου πω δυο ψέματα

ένα πως δε σ’ αγαπάω

κι ένα πως σε ξέχασα (Χ2)

Aρκεί ένα λεπτό για να ερωτευθείς, μια ώρα για να συμπαθήσεις και μια μέρα για ν΄ αγαπήσεις. Όμως μια ολόκληρη ζωή δεν αρκεί για να ξεχάσεις. "Oscar Wilde"

Ένα λεπτό, μια ματιά, λίγες σκέψεις! Κι ύστερα η αιωνιότητα...

[popeyesmith]

Best Books of 2022: Two Eras of Alley Oop

Best Books of 2022: Two Eras of Alley Oop

[feral-piano-rat]

Continue?

Yes. No.

Day 7 - Beduck

be-duk′, v.t.

to duck; to put the head under water; to immerse or submerge.

(as always, click to avoid compressed gif 🥔 quality.)

Credit to @blue-eli for prompt words.