#so im hoping to catch up with writing and posting these poems in the next few days | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

illfoandillfie · 4 years

Text

Easy As A-B-C

Pairing: Professor!Gwilym Lee x Reader

Summery: Professor Lee is getting sick of marking papers, you offer an alternative. One where he doesn't need to think at all.

Warnings: SMUT (18+), unprotected sex, bimbofication (without hypnosis), oral sex (m and f receiving), hand job, light dom/sub dynamic, dom!reader, sub!Gwil, overstimulation, maybe a little bit of hair pulling

Words: 4,537

A/N: This was massively massively inspired by my love @dracoladon and her Drarry fic Lucid (seriously, go read it because she’s a much better writer than me and also sex dumb Draco is hhhhhhh). Reading it made me want to write more himbo fics but without all the hypnosis stuff thats in my Future Management series. Then I got talking to @peachydeacon about himbo!Rog which led to talking about himbo!Gwil and this fic is the result of our discussion lmao. It was also partly inspired by a post on a porn blog that popped up on my dash but I can’t link to that because tumblrs dumb.

Also, it is a professor gwil fic but set after reader has graduated so it’s all above board lmao

Blurb Advent: Day 24

Taglist: @vee-ndetta @atomic-watermelon @kellypenac @labessieisallama @deakyclicks @jennyggggrrr @drowseoftaylor @hannafuckingsucks @i-cant-hangout-im-drumming @queenmylovely @ilovequeenmorethanyou @johndeaconshands @borhapbois @stardust-galaxies @cherries-n-rocknroll @rogersslave @scorpiogemini

Gwilym looked unreasonably hot while he was grading papers, his brow knitted, wearing a look of serious concentration made all the more noticeable by the reading glasses sliding down his nose. His loose tie and the undone top buttons of his business shirt lent him a casually dishevelled air, and that wasn’t even mentioning the way he absentmindedly twisted his pen between his fingers as he read and reread sentences he was struggling to understand, occasionally pausing to underline something or write a note in the margins. It all painted a very sexy image, the kind of serious sexy only a professor could achieve, though this sexiness was nowhere near new. You’d found his manner oddly arousing even when he’d been your professor. Of course, that had been a few years ago and well before you’d had your chance encounter in the local second hand bookstore that led you to ask him out. He’d stuttered out something about never having even thought of you as more than his student and “really I feel almost as if I’ll get in trouble for the conversation as soon as I get back to campus.” But the awkwardness soon changed when you confessed to having had a minor crush on him back in the day and having since hoped to run into him. He seemed more open to the idea of dinner with you after that and, if you were being honest, more cocky too, but cocky in a decidedly dignified and charming way. Anyway, one thing led to another and now here you were somewhere close to a year and half later and you were struggling not to stare at Gwil as he graded papers and looked professor-ally disarrayed and hot.

You knew it was something to do with the Romantic era poets that the students had to write about because he’d read a question out to you earlier to get your opinion of if it was confusingly worded. “No, I don’t think so,” “Then why in god’s name do none of my students get it?” he looked about ready to hit his head against the desk until he passed out but he returned to the topmost paper with a sigh and ruffled hair from where he’d run his hand through it. That’s when you’d started trying not to stare. A tall order when all you could think about was dragging Gwil to the bedroom and ravishing him enough to make him forget all about John Keats and poetry and the English language itself. Not that that was exactly hard. No, Gwilym had a tendency to get a little dazed and confused when you really gave it to him. Sex drunk you’d decided to call it. A transformation that you quite delighted in witnessing and causing. Gwil was sharp as a tack usually, always ready with some obscure fact or quote from literature. It was part of what made him such a good teacher, his memory for all things bookish, as well as his approachable (if a little stern) demeanour and his determination to get the best from his students. But it wasn’t hard to shut down his brain, cloud his memory and entirely befuddle him. One time you’d snuck into the bathroom at the restaurant you’d gone to for dinner and poor Gwilym had become so spaced out he’d spilt half a glass of wine in his lap and then walked into the glass door as you left, even with you leading him by the hand. You supposed that what they said about great power and responsibility was true. All the same, it was a fun power to wield and you knew that, with the right sort of attention, you could have Gwilym babbling incomprehensible gibberish with no memory of what a poem even was, which was surely something he’d appreciate right about now.

You blinked yourself from your reverie as, finally, Gwil set his glasses aside and rose from his seat, groaning as he stretched out the stiffness in his back. He rolled his neck back and forth, your eyes following, before letting his shoulders drop and moving to sit next to you on the couch. “I can’t do it anymore, I can’t read another word about Byron or I’ll loose it.” He sighed, draping an arm around your shoulders and leaning into your neck. “Byron? I remember that assignment. Everyone hated you for it,” His breath was warm against your skin as he spoke, sending a tingle down your spine, “Well if this year’s lot is anything to go by, the feeling was probably mutual,” “Mmm, I remember one girl saying she was going to shove her copy of Don Juan up your arse if she didn’t pass,” He lifted his head again and laughed, “And yet my rectum remains Byron fee and no other injuries befell me, so either I taught you enough to get by or you were all a bunch of cowards,” “Bit of both probably. And why would this year’s be any different, huh?” “I don’t know, you haven’t read any of their attempts at cohesive analysis. Some of them are just throwing out terms like allusion and anapestic and personification all willy-nilly, clearly without properly understanding them. ” “I think you’re being too harsh on them. They’re first years after all and it’s not always easy to understand all that poncy poetical bullshit. Plus, you know it all already so of course everyone else seems stupid to you,” “Maybe,” he conceded, though it seemed to take some effort. “Honestly, someone should put you in their position, see how well you go with it,” “Yeah? And who would do something like that?” Gwilym laughed as you shifted to straddle his lap, accepting the kiss you offered, “You?” “Maybe I will. Spell personification for me,” “You know it’s not high school English, right. We don’t do pop quizzes on spelling and grammar.” “I know you don’t, but this is my subject and I’m testing spelling. Besides,” you let your hand drop between you, brushing lightly over the front of his pants, “I promise it’ll be fun.” Gwil gave a half-hearted eye roll, “P-E-R-S-O-N-I-F-I-C-A-T-I-O-N, personification. D’you want me to use it in a sentence too?” You knew he’d get it right. Gwil always had been good at spelling off the top of his head which you supposed was a side effect of all his reading and the years devoted to the written word. But it was still a little annoying. Mostly because he was being a bit of a tool about the whole thing, but it didn’t help that you’d grown quite wet thinking about how you’d like to have him, like to turn him into the fucked out airhead you’d seen before. You shook your head and tutted at him as if he got it wrong. “No, that’s definitely it. I’ve just read it about a hundred times, I know I’m right. P-E-R-S-O-N-I-F-I-C-A-T-I-O-N,” he spelt it faster that time, trying to prove that you were wrong. “Try allusion for me,” “A-L-L-U-S-I-O-N,” Right again. You sighed as if you were disappointed. Gwilym raised his eyebrows but said nothing. “What about caesura?” “C-E-A-S-U-R-A,” The mistake was an easy one to make, two letters flipped around the wrong way, and you could tell he knew it was wrong as soon as he’d said it. He was surprised when you leant forward to kiss him again, cupping his jaw with one hand as you dropped the other and slowly pulled down the zip on his work pants. “But I fucked up,” he said softly, eyes still closed as you pulled away a few centimetres. You just smiled as you thought of a new word, “Anapestic,” It was another word Gwil had mentioned as seeing in his student’s essays so you knew it would be fresh in his mind and he proved as much when he spelt it, “A-N-A-P-E-S-T-I-C,” He was right of course, so you tutted and pulled your hand away from his crotch, grabbing his chin with your other and forcing him to look at you, “You can do better than that.” His features shifted at the sudden loss of contact, the look of concentration returned once more. If anything, your much closer proximity to the expression made him seem all the more hot but you resisted the urge to give in and drag him to the bedroom, curious if he’d catch onto your little game now and, equally so, to see if he’d play along, “Try Onomatopoeia.” A longer word gave him more chances to get things wrong but would his pride and his brain allow that? Apparently so. “O-N-O-M-” Gwil paused and thought for a second, his eyes narrowed as his looked at you, “O-N-O-M-A-T-O-P-I-A,” the last three letters were said with such deliberate diction that you knew he’d figured it out. “Good boy,” you said, letting your hands slip inside his undone pants to massage his dick. His hips jolted at the contact and he let his hands fall to your arse, squeezing. “What about, dactyl?” His reply was instant, unthinking, and totally correct, “D-A-C-T-Y-L,” You clicked your tongue condescendingly as you once again removed your hands from him. “Fuck,” “Well that’s what happens when you get things wrong, honey, and such an easy one too,” “I didn’t get it wro- fine, give me another,” You smiled, unable to hide how delighted you were that he was interested in following your rules, even if it was just his competitive streak rearing its head to show that he could out smart you, “Assonance,” Gwilym spelt the word slowly and carefully, making sure to only say one ‘s’ and to leave off the ‘e’. And you made sure to reward him for it, shuffling backwards on his lap so you could shimmy his pants down his thighs and wrap your hand around his cock. He raised an eyebrow at you but otherwise made no comment as he leant back in his seat to enjoy the attention. “Romanticism,” Once again Gwilym was careful with his spelling, intentionally replacing the ‘c’ with a double ‘s’ but that was the kind of behaviour you wanted to encourage so you kept stroking him off, twisting your wrist, dragging your thumb over his flushed tip. It must have felt good with the way he was sighing, shifting his shoulders as if to move his whole body closer to yours. “So clever baby, what about,” you paused, dredging up memories of poetry analysis and the words you used to have burned into your brain but which you’d not had much use for recently, “Enjambment” “Ummm, E-N,” Gwil hummed as you leant over him and let a trail of spit drip onto his cock, using your hand to spread it over his length, “Enjamb-ment, uh, E-N-J-A- no E, no A, M-E-N-T,” You leant into his ear and spoke softly, “That’s right, being so good for me, so clever. What should I do next though? Ride you? Or maybe suck you off? Or just keep doing this?” “Uh,” Gwilym shook his head a little as if to clear it, “mouth? Please?” “Of course, baby. If you can spell dissonance for me.” You were quietly confident that he’d get the spelling wrong, already noticing the first sign of his impending brainlessness, extra filler words where he’d normally not need them. It was funny though, usually he wouldn’t reach that stage until he was much closer to nutting. “D-I-S” he rushed through the first three letters and then stopped, biting his lip, “T-um, A-N-E-N-C-E.” You were sure the errors in that word were less intentional than the previous few and, as promised, slipped off his lap and settled yourself between his legs, pulling his pants off so he could spread them wider for you. You held eye contact as you let your tongue trail along the underside of his cock, tracing along a vein, though you couldn’t help but smile as he groaned above you. “Can you spell Decasyllable for me?” you asked before closing your lips around the head of his cock. “What? Oh, um, D-E-C-K- fuck,” he broke off as you swirled your tongue around his tip. “Fuck’s not a letter, baby,” you sank down on him again, bobbing a little lower. “I know, um, Deck-syllable, D-E-C-K-A-S-Y-B-L-E, I think. Is that right?” In answer you hummed and took him a little deeper, pushing his shirt up towards his chest. Gwilym took the hint and pulled it off before he grabbed your hair, leaning his head against the back of the couch. For a moment you just focused on sucking him off, listening to his shallow breathing and whiny groans. But you weren’t finished with your game yet.

“Epigraph?” you asked before bobbing down on him again, pushing yourself to take him deeper still. Gwilym remained silent as you gagged and pulled back from him again to breath freely. “Well?” “What did you say?” “Epigraph. Can you spell that?” He nodded as you resumed your bobbing, his hand grabbing at your hair, “E-P-P-E-G-R-A-F-F.” You hummed around him and his hips bucked up, pushing him further down your throat for a second. “No, don’t stop,” he whined under his breath as once again you let him fall from between your lips. “Sorry baby,” you wrapped your hand around his base and switched back to jerking him off, “you’re so hard though and I know you want to earn your orgasm like a good boy,” Gwilym nodded. “Okay, so spell meter,” “M- oh, I don’t know,” “You do know, baby, you just gotta try. Meter,” He scrunched his face up in thought, “M-E-E-T-R,” “See, I said you knew it, and you did it so well!” Gwilym gave you a dopey smile, looking proud at your praise, “I did?” His mouth dropped open with the movement of your hand. “Of course baby! You got it completely right because you’re so clever. What about sonnet, do you think you can do that one for me?” He nodded enthusiastically, “S-N-E-T,” “Very good! Okay, three more and I’ll let you cum,” “Okay!” “Okay, what about,” you thought for a moment, watching your hand pumping over his shaft as you trailed your fingernails lightly over his thigh, “Spell rhyme,” “Ummm,” Gwilym bit his lip in thought, soft grunting noises rising in his throat in time with your strokes. “It’s a bit of a tricky one,” “Yeah.” “And it’s hard to concentrate isn’t it?” “Mmhmm, so hard to con-ten-tate,” he thought for a little longer as you slowed your hand, “rrr- R-I-M,” “So clever baby! Okay canto,” “Oh! Ummm,” Gwilym pouted and whined as you unexpectedly drew the tip of your tongue around his head, “I don’ know,” “No?” He shook his head, eyebrows furrowed. “Okay what about, poem?” Gwilym seemed to have reached the last dregs of his knowledge, grunting in frustration as he shook his head again.” “You sure you don’t know?” He bucked his hips up into your hand as he shook his head again. “Alright, I’ll give you an easy one then. Spell your name for me, spell Gwilym,” Gwil’s eyes lit up at the suggestion but his face quickly slipped into a frown again, the expression getting more pronounced with every passing second he didn’t say anything. He sought out your face, his eyes brimming with frustrated tears, “I don’t…” his fists balled up as he looked to you for help. “You don’t remember?” He shook his head once more, a tear shaking loose and rolling down his cheek, “you said it was easy.” “It’s okay if you don’t know,” “Really?” he sniffled. “Of course it’s okay. You’re not supposed to know things.” “I’m not?” “Awww, of course not baby. That’s why I’m here, to know things, and you’re just here to make me happy.” Gwilym sighed and leaned back against the couch, smiling again. “Do you want to give it a try for me?” “Umm,” he whined as you slowed your strokes “It would make me very happy,” “Okay, umm…G? L? ummmm, M?” “You’re so clever, baby!” Gwilym giggled proudly and grinned at you as you adjusted your grip on his cock. “You’re my good, smart boy, aren’t you baby?” “Mmhmm,” he bucked his hips towards you as you took him into your mouth again. “Feels go-od,” he mumbled, almost panting with how close he was. You dragged the hand that rested on his thigh up to cup his balls as you sucked on his tip until he moaned and came, spilling his seed over your tongue.

You kept working your hand along his length, even after you’d pulled your mouth from him. “Was that a good orgasm baby? Did it make you feel good?” He nodded, pouting a little as you kept wanking him, “good oggsam,” It took all your effort not to laugh at that, biting on the inside of your cheek to keep from letting so much as a chuckle slip. Very few things delighted you as much as when Gwil forgot how to talk properly. “You know,” you said as you finally let his cock free, “sometimes when people have orgasms they feel euphoric. Do you feel euphoric?” “Mmhmm, you-porik.” “Clever boy. Do you want to help me feel euphoric?” “How?” “With your mouth,” “Oh! Okay!” You braced yourself against his knees as you stood, leaning forward to give Gwil a small kiss on the lips. He closed his eyes and smiled up at you contentedly as you shimmied out of your own clothes, dropping them all to the floor. “You going to let me lie down?” you asked, tapping Gwil on the shoulder. He looked around confusedly for a moment before his eyes settled on you, growing wider as he realised how naked you were. Without warning he surged forward, his hands grabbing your arse as he nuzzled his face in the valley between your breasts. If it were up to Gwil he would have stayed there all day but you had need for him elsewhere so you yanked his head back by his hair, earning a small noise of displeasure. “Don’t complain, baby. You want to make me feel euphoric, right?” “Mmhmm,” he hummed earnestly. “And how do you think you could do that?” “I don’t know,” “Maybe, cunnilingus?” “cun-un-un-un-gus,” “Exactly,” you directed his gaze down to your pussy, failing to hide your amused grin. But he was too far gone to notice, happily slipping to his knees in front of you. Telling him to wait for a second, you climbed onto the couch and spread your legs, beckoning him between them once you were comfortable.

He hadn’t been able to say the word but that didn’t mean he wasn’t skilled at the act. A string of soft hums and throaty sounds rose to your lips as he licked your cunt, the scratchy sensation of his beard only amplifying the soft, wet, warmth of his tongue. “Can you, oh, can you spell poem for me baby?” Gwilym hummed and then started naming letters, his mouth still pressed against your cunt as if he didn’t realise he couldn’t talk and suck at the same time. You didn’t bother to stop him when he said too many letters or correct him when all of them were wrong. You just let his breath wash over you, his tongue flicking against your clit with each new letter, eliciting longer moans and sighs from you. “Fuck Gwil,” you panted, “keep going,” “Keep going,” he repeated, his voice muffled as he dragged his tongue all the way down your slit and then back up again, making you whine. You jolted when he reached your clit again and pressed against his head, keeping him close to you, your other hand trailing up your chest to tweak your nipples and knead your breasts. Occasionally you’d give him an instruction – “faster please,” or “do that again,” or “fuck Gwil, right there,” – and he’d repeat the words back to you, softened and often a little slurred together or mispronounced, before doing as he was asked, drawing you closer to release. He was pleased whenever another groan or mewl slipped from your lips, responding to them with sounds of his own as if he were savouring a particularly delicious meal. It seemed he’d taken what you’d said about making you happy to heart, though some of his whines might have had more to do with his cock, hard again and straining to be touched as his attention remained focused on you. “I’m c-lose ba-by,” you grunted as Gwilym pressed his mouth to your lower lips, as if to give you a soft chaste kiss, only to begin shaking his head side to side, rubbing his face against your cunt. “loase,” he muttered to himself, trailing his tongue back up to your clit, making you grind your hips up into him. It was impossible to keep your mouth shut in the face of such a feeling, wantonly moaning as you felt your orgasm bubbling to the surface. Gwilym hummed against you in response to a particularly loud moan which managed to be your undoing, your knees trying to clamp shut around his head as he continued to suck at your clit.

When you calmed enough to let go of his hair and loosen your thighs from around his ears, Gwilym looked up at you. His face was shiny and wet but he seemed to have regained some of his usual awareness. His eyes weren’t quite as vacant and his smile less dopey than it had been. “Feel good?” he asked, sounding almost normal except for a slight lightness in his tone. “Very good baby,” you leaned forward and kissed him full on the lips, tasting yourself as he opened his mouth and accepted your tongue. Slowly you dropped your hand between you, finding his cock again, not quite done with your brainless toy. He grunted against your lips and bucked into your hand as you stopped his return to sense. “Isn’t this fun?” you said softly as you pulled back, holding Gwil by the chin to stop him from trying to follow. “Yeah, fun,” a smile slowly tugging at his lips, “what is?” “Not needing to think, baby,” “Oh! Yes,” he laughed. “You’re too pretty to have a brain anyway, aren’t you? Much better off letting it leak out of your head,” “Mmhmm, much,” “And do you know what good, dumb boys get?” “No?” “They get fucked. Would you like that?” “Yes yes yes,” “Alright, lie back for me,” you chuckled, giving his cock a final stroke. Gwilym settled on the carpet on his back, grinning as you straddled his lap. Silently he held out his hand, all but two of his fingers folded against his palm. “No, I don’t need your fingers sweetie,” you said, giving the tips of his two fingers a light kiss, “as dextrous as they are and as much as I enjoy them, I think I’m okay skipping straight to your cock,” He nodded, letting you place his hand down on the floor again. You watched his face as you slowly sank down onto him, once again the picture of cunt drunk bliss with glazed eyes and his lip between his teeth. He smiled as you leaned down to kiss him, rolling your hips against his slowly. As you tongues entwined again, Gwilym framed your waist with his hands, slowly dragging them up your sides and onto your chest. He cupped each of your breasts in one of his palms, squeezing softly as you rocked forward and back. “Better than Byron isn’t this?” you asked, pushing yourself up a bit, but not so far you couldn’t kiss him again. “Wha’s Byron?” You laughed, “Y’know I think this might be the dumbest I’ve seen you. Can’t believe all it took was a rigged spelling test. He obviously didn’t understand, staring blankly back at you.

What he did understand was that you were moving further away from him and he whined as you pushed yourself to sit higher again, bracing your hands on his chest as you used your knees to raise and lower yourself. It still wasn’t enough though so you shifted again before too long, placing a hand behind you to grab Gwil’s leg. You leant back on it changing the angle of Gwilym’s cock, and felt his hands drop from your chest, no longer able to reach as easily. They came to rest on your leg, his fingertips digging into your skin as you rode him, keening as you felt the start of your orgasm building in the pit of your stomach. “Fuck Gwil, fill me so well, feels so good,” “My dex-ik-tus cock?” You couldn’t help but laugh, taken by surprise at his misunderstanding and mispronunciation of dextrous, but you nodded in agreement too, repeating your sentiments about how good it felt. “Wanna make me feel even better?” “How?” You sat forward again and reached for his hand, pulling it to your clit. Gwilym took the hint, messily rubbing as you bounced on his cock, but his whines and moans only grew as you rode him. “You’re close?” “Mmhmm,” You were on the verge of asking if he could hold it when he came with a groan, pulsing inside you. But you didn’t stop. “I’m close too, baby, so I’m gonna keep fucking you, okay?” He nodded, eyes fixed on you. “Good boy.” You panted, grabbing his wrist to hold his hand at your clit and adjusting your rhythm. Each time you sank back down onto him you did it harder, slamming his cock into you as deep as you could manage, groaning with each one. Your orgasm was frustratingly close but Gwilym was becoming steadily more sensitive as his subsided, wincing more with each of your thrusts. The winces turned to whimpers which turned to whines as you whispered that you were so close. “Almost baby, almost,” “Please. Hur’s,” “Nearly, just. One. More,” you threw your head back with a moan as you finally found your release, Gwil whining when you pulsed around him, a fresh tear running from the corner of his eye onto the carpet as he squirmed under you.

“Sorry, baby,” you said softly as you carefully dismounted him. He hummed as you kissed him again, leaving an extra kiss against the tip of his nose. “Did so well, such a good boy for me,” “Yeah?” “Mmhmm, so good,” He gave you a slightly watery smile and let you pull him into a cuddle, sighing contentedly when you brushed your fingers through his hair. You stayed like that for a while, knowing that later you’d regret lying on the floor for so long but unable to find the energy to move or the willpower to tell Gwilym you had to let him go. He gradually lost the fucked out expression, becoming more aware of his surroundings and more capable of clear speech. “How are you feeling?” you asked when you realised he’d blinked away the last of his sex drunk vacancy. “Better than before. Little tired but much more relaxed and very satisfied. And, before you ask, yes that’s satisfied and yes I can spell it if you want,” “I believe you.”

#my writing #my fics #smut fic #gwilym lee x reader #gwilym lee smut #gwilym lee imagine #this has been half written in my drafts for much too long now #but im very happy to be able to finally post it!#just got one more thing to write for this advent countdown #which i'll try and knock off after i get back from church #so that its ready to go in the morning #anyway #hope ya'll like this #i might kind of love writing pretty dumb boys #blurb advent 2020

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curseofaphrodite · 3 years

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asTORIA MY BELOVED THE LOVE OF MY LIFE<333 HELLO

our wedding>>>>>>god's wedding ;)

bitch wHAT y'all don't have hindi//sanskrit as a subject???? lucky you😭😭 i had to study hindi compulsory till 8th grade- (hate that subject i swear hate the teacher too ig)

ISTG I BARELY STUDIED FOR MY TESTS BUT IK I STILL DID DECENTLY WELL when you're intelligent and have photogenic memory but give zero efforts for studying>>>

oh oh oh iNEJ GHAFA INEJ GHAFA INEJ GHAFA ‼️ she's mommy i swear sorry i simp for inej nina and kaz- (my biggest flex is that i simped for kaz kaz first not freddy kaz guess that's what happens when you read the books and not watch the tv series 😼🤌)

you have wattpad right?? have you read war of hearts?? it's a kaz brekker story istg it was favourite and i'm pretty sure i read like 4-5 times when i was in my kaz phase- oh well but stasiaj (i hope i spelt her name correctly but in case she's the female protagonist) what a girlboss leave that hot mob and date me pls one of few female ocs who didn't just let go of powerful nature for a goddamn m*n-

but since we're on topic of kaz lemme share my favourite freddy carter picture bc he was my fav white boy of month in february<3

LOOK AT HIM HE LOOKS SO ADORABLE MY HEART SO PRECIOUS 💗💗 istg this isn't the bastard of barrel he's the baby of barrel 🥰✨❤️

(oh that one sence where he threatens a child omg so hot bruise my esophagus for all i care)

honestly hate men i'm so sorry that guy was truly a dumb bitch for rejecting a gem like you

i hugged nyasa for you heheheh

yES YES YES I WEAR RINGS!!! I WEAR 3 RINGS EVERY SINGLE DAY AND IF THERE'S SOME FUNCTION THEN I WOULD ADD MORE RINGS FROM MY RING COLLECTION 😩🙏💍

yk about our farewell (yes i'll sing about it for days cry about it🥰) (#sokind😸🙏) sOO guess who isn't coming

*dramatic pause*

*drum rolls*

✨tina✨

YES SHE ISN'T COMING TO THE FAREWELL NYASA TOLD ME AND I ASKED HER THAT "YOU'RE COMING TO THE FAREWELL NAA🤨" FOR SELF SATISFACTION 😩☝️‼️

honestly ily you literally write a whole ass novel answer to my whole ass novel ask<3

people who write novel long shits together stay together. periodt

well today we did shirt signing and one of my friends drew a mf dick on it😭😭 ffs i was ✨scared✨ that my mum would see it and yell at me but but but my mum ignoring the dick and commenting on every sweet messages and hearts>>>> material girl momma💅

how was your day tho i realised i stopped asking that lmao 😭 take care muah muah

i love you my sweets! ← look how pretty this looks🥲💗

-🔮

p.s. rewarding you with another poem of mine at night bc why not

doing the cut again gahaha

no no i had hindi up until 8th too! i just did very bad but our hindi sir was very lenient. he hardly even checked what he was correcting lol he marked us all as genuises and just gave us A everytime.

PLS youre smart asf and im not surprised. proud of you mwah.

stasiaj sounds like A QUEEN. not me running to wattpad and checking the book. the synopsis sounds so cool; the author is TALENTED ASF.

speaking of talented people, yes freddy mfing carter. he's adorable off screen and the perfect kaz brekker on screen. adorable and kaz in one sentence lol the day is cursed.

PLS PEOPLE WHO WEAR RINGS ARE AUTOMATICALLY THE BEST LIKE I DONT MAKE THE RULES !!!

TINA ISNT COMING YAASSS SUE THAT BISH IM GLAD. at least you'll have a drama free farewell. gimme tea on it tho 💋

shirt signing hakjsha I love your friend and your mom like she sounds nice.

MY DAY WAS OKAY I just woke up and I'm yet to catch up on all the asks so I'm queuing some so I think this would be posted some time in the afternoon?? idk how queues work. i hate math exam next HAHA fml thanks.

THAT DOES LOOK PRETTY MWAHA I LOVE YOU SO MUCH AKSKHKJA

also,

where

the

poem 🔪🔪🔪

#🔮 anon #tea with anons #to dust queue shall return #long post

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darktypeimagines · 5 years

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hi there! im a bit new here but i really love your writing a whole lot!! could you maybe possibly do a drabble for piers who has a crush on a fellow musician who makes indie music and also really likes him back and they keep writing songs about eachother until one of them is finally like "oh thats about me" ?

So… uh, I wanted to write actual song verses… but I’m terrible at it, so I spared you the pain of that. I hope you like it, though. 😊 This ended up being slow-burn-y, so sorry if that’s not what you meant.

Definition of a drabble (according to google): “Traditionally, a drabble is a piece of fiction that is exactly 100 words long.” HAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA! nope. Put it under a read more because it’s much, much longer than my usual posts.

———————————————————————————

It wasn’t often Piers completely and totally fell for someone.

But there was just something captivating about you; the way you carried yourself, the type of music you crafted. The verses clung to him and he caught himself humming the melodies as he went about his day.

He knew he had a problem when he checked his playlist and found he’s listened to one of your songs 50 times in one week. And it was proven when, after catching a glimpse of you at an indie music festival, he felt that familiar electricity overcome him. Head to toe, in his gut, stopping his breath short. But before he could react, you disappeared behind the crowd once more.

He had a problem. He had fallen for someone he had never met. Someone he knew only from sight and song.

Piers ignored the feelings. It was just a crush. It would fade in time.

It did not.

And, what was worse was, without even realizing it, he wrote you into a few poems he jotted down. It was a nighttime habit he had, all the way back from his teenage years. When he was trying to figure out a song, he’d write a poem first, then adapt it.

So, as he laid curled up in bed, Obstagoon cuddled up next to him, he scribbled out his thoughts. The light was dim, as always; he’d put on a lamp, but that’d require waking up his Pokemon. Plus, there was just something about the soft flicker of a half-broken neon sign that felt… right? Probably just nostalgia, growing up in Spikemuth, where everything seemed to be just barely holding on.

As he struggled to read his own scratchings in the unstable light, the realization overcame him. When he started, he wrote vaguely. The poem-turned-song wasn’t supposed to be about anyone specific. But, somehow, someway, his stifled thoughts ended up on paper. And in reading it over, it wasn’t just about you; it was about his feelings for you.

It made him extremely uncomfortable and he didn’t know what to do.

For now, he tucked the notebook away, and finally turned on the light.

Months went by. The two of you kept passing each other by, but never exchanged a single word. While Piers still had feelings for you, they weren’t as suffocating as before. Fortunately for him.

But as he walked through Spikemuth on a chilly autumn day, he heard a familiar voice echo through the metal and concrete alleyways. He could tell he was coming from a radio, probably from inside someone’s house, at full blast. Piers stuck around to listen to the rest of the song in full, feeling increasingly drawn to it as he made out the words. He already missed half of it, but got the gist of the theme: a missed connection, regret for what could have been.

For some reason… He couldn’t shake the feeling it was almost as though the song was describing… him? Was he just imagining it? But then, the music cut to reveal the ending sung as acapella.

And it was you. Your voice. Between feeling that the song was about him, and then suddenly realizing it was your song, he suddenly felt unsteady on his feet. He had the distinct feeling of wanting to run away and run toward the problem at the same time.

He went straight home, and after restlessly trying to figure out what to do, he turned to what he did best: writing music. After several long nights, many hours of lovesick doubt, and one instance of nearly scrapping everything, he finally had something he felt he could release, loosely based on the poem from months before. Normally, it would take far too long for him to work through the all the hoops in order to get it officially released. But, luckily, there was a small concert planned in Spikemuth; he wasn’t originally going to perform, but he could easily change that… Plus, he knew you were already scheduled to perform there.

The night of the concert came. It was rainy, but one of the few benefits of living in Spikemuth was protection from the elements. The rain pattering on the metal above was a familiar sound, but it would soon be drowned out by music.

Despite it being a smaller concert, a few vendors and a food truck showed up. The stalls held both official and unofficial merch, but no one really minded in this city. This wasn’t Wyndon, after all. As the first fan trickled in, picking spots and browsing the pop-up shops, Piers scanned around for you. It seemed like you hadn’t shown up yet.

And, he soon got distracted by his own fans, and wasn’t able to look for you. Before he knew it, the concert was about to begin. He looked up to the stage and his breath hitched as he saw it was you. All he could focus on was you, the spell only tightening its grip as your song began. It was the same one he heard on the radio, but seeing a performance in person is always a different experience.

Time seemed to slow and it was though no one else was around. While he felt the song was about him before, that feeling was magnified now. And finally, at the last line, you made eye contact with him and smiled. With a fluttering heart, he managed to return the smile. That moment, which was likely just that, stretched on longer in his mind. Time snapped back in place, and you exited the stage, where Piers lost sight of you.

His thoughts were cluttered for the rest of the concert. So, when he bought his mic up to the stage and prepared himself, he felt something he hadn’t felt since the very beginning of his music career; nerves. They never really went away, of course, but this was the first time in a long time that he could remember feeling nervous about how people would react. How you would react.

It was a rocky start. He started on the first verses and was a little out of tune. But then he caught a glimpse of you again, all the way in the back, and the words came easily.

He hadn’t meant to stare at you the entire time, but he just couldn’t help it. The song was meant for you, after all.

Overall, the song was an obvious response to yours. Anyone who was paying attention could tell. Similar theming; a lost chance at love. There were even lines that were basically spin offs of yours. But there was one main difference. His song ended on a line that expressed he still had hope they would meet someday. Another chance.

Either it was one of his best songs, or the crowd was super hyped. The cheering continued far after he exited the stage. They were so excited, Piers decided to wait in the musicians’ lobby in an adjacent building rather than rejoining the crowd. It was already an emotional day and he just needed a break. He scrolled through his phone mindlessly, trying to get his mind off of things, but it didn’t help much.

The music quieted, as did the crowd. The last act had finished and it seemed people were heading out. Piers thought about heading home himself, but figured he’d wait just a bit longer. After hearing the door creak, he looked up and stiffened. As what was becoming the usual, your sudden appearance surprised him again.

The two of you stared at each other for a few moments, only the pinging of rain on metal between you.

“Hey… What’re you still here for?” He asked tentatively.

You sat down on the couch beside him. He seemed to tense up. He sat hunched over a bit, fiddling with a black ring on his index finger. He would occasionally glance at you, but not for long.

“You like the concert? I know it wasn’t much, but I hope you liked it.” He paused. “I’m glad you were able to come. Made my day.”

You told him the same, and began gushing about his song. He smiled, holding eye contact with you.

“Yeah, I heard your song on the radio. Took a bit of inspiration an’ made something of my own. Couldn’t help it. What you wrote was just one of those songs that gets you in the heart, you know?”

You knew.

“So…” He sighs, “I s'ppose I may as well ask. Maybe I’m just imagining things, but- you wanna get together? Or at least get to know each other? Dunno if you realized it, but that new song was meant to be about you.”

You had an inkling. But it overjoyed you to hear him say it. He seemed to notice your reaction and grinned. And then, you told him the truth; that YOUR song was also about him!

Piers sat straight up for a moment, then relaxed, still smiling.

“That settles that, then. Guess I was right all along.” He fidgeted a bit with his choker. “So… was that a yes, right?”

Of course it was.

#piers #piers x reader #pokemon #pokemon swsh #pokemon imagines #pokemon sword and shield #x reader #ask #scenario #darktypeimagines

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pantton-sandacers · 6 years

Text

I’m in Love

~Summary: For the embodiment of emotions, Patton sure was oblivious when it came to crushes. ~A/N: I saw a really cute post about Logicality and I HAD to write something about it. Read it on AO3 ~Ship(s): Logicality ~Rating: G Warnings: None Word Count: 888 ~Tag List: @artisticlnsomniac @insert-epic-blogger-name-here @juni-raptor @moonstonefox12 @mythicalquill @screamingoutinrage @trashypansexual

For the embodiment of emotions, Patton sure was oblivious when it came to crushes.

He didn't understand why his face grew red when Logan was in the room, why he found himself smiling and listening intently whenever he spoke, or why he always tried to sit next to him during their movie marathons so they might fall asleep on each other.

The moment it dawned on him was during the Christmas video. He’d been smiling and singing to distract himself from his own internal conflict of his true feelings for Logan when he was suddenly pulled out of this thoughts.

Though Logan had been Rapping/Speaking his lines in the song for the most part, after switching lines with Patton he let his golden pipes be heard as he sang, “Five Crofter’s Jams,” and surprised everyone.

Patton heard the sweet sound of Logan’s singing and he stared, mouth open as his face heated. The only thing he could think was, “I’m in love.”

And that was the answer. Patton was in love with Logan.

~*~

Patton was able to keep up his happy, fatherly act until he could finally retreat to his room to cope with his true feelings.

After the video Roman went to check up on the fatherly trait, planning to invite him to a movie marathon with the others. However, he was surprised to find Patton hiding in the corner, clutching his knees inside his Christmas sweater as he sobbed.

Roman sent a quick text to Virgil, letting him know to start the marathon without them, before moving to comfort Patton.

That night they had a long talk about emotions and crushes, and Roman encouraged Patton to admit his feelings to Logan. He initially refused, but after Roman pointed out Patton had been trying to work on emotional honesty and vulnerability as of late, Patton sighed in defeat.

After that they talked about Patton’s confession; what he would say to Logan, when he would tell him, and how. Their brainstorming session lasted until they both eventually fell asleep, cuddled together on Patton’s sofa.

And that’s what led Patton here, in a short-sleeved, light blue, button-up shirt, khakis, and brown dress shoes- Roman had encouraged him to dress up ever so slightly. Behind his back, he carried a note in an envelope sealed with a puppy sticker.

When Patton walked into the kitchen Logan’s back was facing him, turned around making a pot of coffee.

Patton breathed in, then out again before speaking up, “Hey, Lo!”

“Hello, Patton,” Logan nodded his head in acknowledgment, not taking his focus away from the coffee pot.

In for 4, hold for 7, let out for 8. Patton repeated in his mind as he attempted to calm his rapid heartbeat.

“Um,, I have something... for you, Lo.”

“Oh?” Logan turned around to face Patton, and for a split second Patton could’ve sworn he saw a small blush appear on the logical side’s face.

Patton hastily handed the letter over, “Here.”

This was it. No turning back now.

Logan nodded and opened the letter, freezing as he read the poem inside.

~*~

Hearing you sing, sound from Heaven above

Was the moment I realized, I’m in love.

You sang golden notes like no one else can

Belting the new lyrics, “Five Crofter’s Jams.”

I’ll have to admit, I was struck with awe

Your happy face, the only thing I saw.

As I gazed on with blush, my mouth ajar,

I’m certain my eyes were filled with bright stars.

You’re always so beautiful when you smile

Something that’s seen only once in a while.

Your cheekbones rise to give your face dimples

Making the corners of your eyes crinkle.

The message I am trying to convey

Is that, for you, I am indeed quite gay.

I understand if you don’t feel the same,

Still, I confess my feelings without shame.

I speak as the heart, my feelings are true

Logan Sanders, I am in love with you.

~*~

Logan stood there, reading the sonnet over and over.

Patton fidgeted nervously with his hands, waiting for an answer. He cleared his throat, catching Logan’s attention, “Um, That’s... all I wanted to give you, so,, yeah.”

He turned to leave the room, but before he could Logan called out, “Wait!”

Patton faced Logan again, a glimmer of hope in his eyes, “Yeah, Lo?”

“Um...” Logan glanced down at the note again, unsure what to say, “I like the use of iambic pentameter, you’re good and writing sonnets.”

“Oh... well, thank you,” Patton nodded, feeling his heart sink as he turned to leave the room once more.

“And...” Logan took a breath, steadying himself as Patton looked back at him, “I... I am in love with you too, Patton.”

A huge smile spread across Patton’s face, and there certainly were stars in his eyes as he blushed and asked, “Really?”

Logan nodded, his face pink.

Patton opened his arms to Logan for a hug, and Logan smiled, moving into Patton’s embrace.

~*~

The next day Logan would buy a frame for the sonnet Patton wrote, and it would hang proudly on his bedroom wall for years. After they married, it would be moved to their new bedroom together, and it would serve as a reminder to the day Patton confessed, and the day Patton fell in love with Logan.

Fanders Taglist below the cut:

@221biotchplease @a-blog-just-for-sanders @ace-of-hufflepuffs @ace-v-p-d @acrobaticcatfeline @alextheodd @all-these-trees-stealing-mah-o2 @allthemetalsoftherainbow @alyssadashrub @ams-parker @an_anxious_gay_mess @anastasialestina @angeliclogan @angered-turtle @anony-phangirl @aph-roma @artistictaurean @asalwayss @ashbash-the-trashcash @AskolotlQuestions @asterias-confused-writings @baileystarsketches @bekkyboo2003 @bluebellie01 @candiukas @captain-loki-xavier @catsandrandomness @cinderlunarcyborg @cinquefoilelove @clueingforblogs @completelyclevername @cripplingchips @darude-sanderstorm @datonerougecookeh @deadinsidebutliving @deathbyvenusftw @dementeddracon @depressed-alone @didsomeonesayyoutube122 @do-rey-me @dreamerhowelll @dudlebuggs @elder-jeremiah @elvishfrenchassassin @emovirgil @emphoenixcat @etherealweekes @evilmuffin @faacethefacts @fabulousfanaticfander @fairly-close @faithhopefelony @fanatic564 @fandergecko @fireflightyt @fricksonsticks @funsizedgremlin @greenbryn @grey-lysander @hanramz-the-fander @happypappypatton @heythereprincey @hi-disappointed-im-daughter @hikariyukino @hissesssss @hottopicvirge @hunterjaegerthings @icbatocomeupwithausername @ill-interested @imaflashcard @ispeakhalflies @ive-given-up-on-it @jade-dragon226-fan @jesusonafrickinboat @jughead-is-canonically-aroace @just-another-transblog @juvenile-changeling @k9cat @karmicmayhem @katatles-the-fish @kentato-kenart @kfc-chickenyo @koalaaquabear @kurna-kovite @lacandra @lana–22 @lei-brokeit @lockolocka @logan-exe @logically-sided @logicalspecs @louisthewarlock @lowkey-logicality @madelynnaa @magicmapleleaf @makemeaplant @mercythemermaids @microsoft-nerd @migraine-marathon @milomeepit @minamishipsit @mollycassmith @moonlightinwater @multi-fandom-trash-x9000 @musicphanpie-b @musicsavedmefromdeath @nightlovechild @nightly-illustrator @nightmarejasmine @nottodaylogic @notveryglittery @nuttytheorizer @nuttytheorizer @nymphaedoratonks @ocotopushugs @on-lock-like-attica @ono-its-ryane @osnapitzbc @out-of-existence @pandagirl0730 @panicatthefalloutphanficfandom @pansexual-cat @pansexual-cat @pantton-sandacers @pastel-patton123 @pattykrabbies @paxtonlovestea @pearls-of-patton @pieces-of-annedrew @pinkeasteregg @poundland-twoface @prplzorua @radioactivebread @reba-andthesides @redundant-statements-for-400 @robanilla @romanssippycup @rose-gold-roman @royallyanxious @rptheturk @s0ftdoddleoddle @sanders-fam-ily @sanders-sides-things @sanders-trash-4ever @sanderssides-deathangel @saphirestrike @sassy-in-glasses @save-dirk @savingshae @sesame-icecream @shadow-walker-1201 @shygirl4991 @silversunshine2012 @siriuswhiskers @skylagamingfea @smokeyrutilequartz @starry-eyed-haiku-dreamer @stars-in-mine-eyes @storytellerofuntoldlegends @strangerthings-and-phan @strangerthings-and-phan @superintrovertfangirl @thatonenerdtm @thats-so-crash @the-feels-are-coming @the-optimism-of-the-ostriches @the-prince-and-the-emo @theanxietyofbeinganxious @thecrimsoncodex @thegreyacefromspace @thepusheenqueen @theroyalramen @theshipqueenarrives @thesilentbluesparrow @theworldismysupernova @theworldismysupernova @thisisshien @thomas-must-get-to-sleep @too-precious-to-process @too-random-for-me @toujours-fidele @trashfireiplier @trashypansexual @treblesanders @tree4life25 @unknownsandersfan @v-blue-writer @violetmcl @virgil-has-a-houseplant @virgilisaneternalmood @virgils-anxiety @virgils-hoodie @voices-and-stardust @walking-encyclopedia @whyamihereohwell @XxxxWitlee @yamiaainferno @yourmomsafalsehood @raisin-oatmeal-cookie

#my fics #logicality #love confession #fluff #sonnets #sanders sides #thomas sanders #logan sanders #logic sanders #patton sanders #morality sanders #roman sanders #princey sanders #virgil sanders #anxiety sanders #pantton-sandacers posts

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paix-eula · 4 years

Text

Somewhere in my archive is a post where i pour my heart out. Things were easier back then, words were easier. I want to write you a letter of all the things I want to say.

But it's been years, I've said everything I want to say in scattered poems, in scrap papers, at the back of books, at the palm of my hands, in the air, hoping somehow they'll find their way to you. I don't think they ever did.

You bring out the best and the worst in me. I thought I could handle seeing you again. I thought wrong.

Watching you felt like coming home to a place I've never been to. It's a rainbow of feelings. A taste of everything bitter and sweet. My poison is my medicine.

There are too many strings keeping us close, but not one string keeping us together. And i am tired of the tugging, tired of the sounds they make. I am tired of this puzzle. Tired of thinking of ways to fix this.

I am so tired. I am so tired of being the bigger person. I am so tired of being mature. So tired of finding the right words to say what I feel. So tired of trying to understand your side logically. I am so tired of wishing you the best because you were my "best". How did you find it so easy to beat that.

I am so tired of pushing away things that I love just because they remind me of you. I am so tired of wondering how I did you wrong. I am so tired of doing myself wrong. I am tired of the questions. So tired of the answers to all the things you couldnt ask.

I am so tired of all the years I've spent caught up in the possibilities of what happens next. I am so tired of instantly knowing when youre around. So tired of how familiar my body is to how it feels to have your eyes on me. I am so tired of how my heart skips a bit when I see you around town. How an alarm goes off, announcing my death over and over again.

I am so tired of not laughing at your jokes. I am so tired at laughing at them. Why is it so easy for you to make me smile? Why is it so easy for you to make me cry? Why is it so easy for you?

Why was it so easy for you to leave. Why was it so easy for you to pour your heart on me, and not even clean up after. Why was it so easy for me to pour my heart out into eternal voids? Why is it still so hard for me to clean this mess. Why this stain? Why this pain?

I am so tired of hearing you in the most beautiful of songs. I hear your laughter in love songs, and i feel your silence in every lullaby my tears dance to before I sleep. I cling to you in my dreams. And I wake up wondering when this will end. Make it end.

You're great at this. At staying put, at the constant effort, at not saying what you feel, at fearing the future.

The first time I left you was because I didn't know what I wanted for us. The second time I left you was because I knew what I wanted for you. The third time I left you was because I still didn't know what I wanted, but I knew it was for me. I want something else. Something. Anything. Anything but this. Oh god, please anything but this.

I knocked on your door to say my final goodbye. You opened it wide, showing me the life you created since the day I left. It's cruel how you didn't let me in even for just a little while to catch up. It was cruel to not ask me how i was doing because i wouldve answered. "I dropped by to tell you i was already on my way to leave for good." Why couldn't you give me that? Why am i back at the very start, wishing for your acceptance for a welcome back? I cant keep waiting at your door for a "where have you been?", "why didnt you call home?", "why wouldnt you stay?"

Im so tired of things being one-sided. Im so tired of this holding me back. We deserve better than this. Please, let me go.

#ideas and ideals

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captivatingalyeska · 7 years

Text

Day 1: My room turned into a ocean. I swear I found fishes and sharks swarming into my lungs. Or maybe that was the remains of you trying not to escape but desperately needing to

Day 2: You weren’t at school today and I should’ve been happy, I was more sad

Day 3: I thought I was ready to move on, then I saw you with her.

Day 4: We haven’t spoken in days now. My mind thinks its being shoved off a cliff.

Day 5: I wish it would just hit the bottom

Day 6: This will be the first weekend we dont hang out. I know you’ll be seeing her and I know you’ll be smiling without me. I’m trying hard to learn how to too

Day 7: I asked you for help on a history assignment and you replied with “Ask Amber im busy”. I texted back: “Tell Emma I said hi”

Day 8: You posted a video with her on the only social media site you have. When I saw it I erupted. I spewed lava every where, oh god its every where

Day 9: My mom made me sleep next to her on the couch. She was afraid I would try and do something like I did two years ago when another guy tore up my heart. I actually had thought about it

Day 10: I slept in your sweatshirt one last time so I can feel myself engulfed in you. I know you wanted them back so I had to feel you and smell you just once more.

Day 11: I gave you all of your stuff back and you thought I looked like a warrior but really I went home and tried getting you out of my bloodstream

Day 12: When will my eyes stop flowing?

Day 13: I snuck out with a boy and smoked weed on his couch. He talked about love and how much it hurt. I only pictured you.

Day 14: I woke up next to that same boy and I woke up screaming. The boy was worried and confused but I knew why I screamed. I imagined you laying with another girl on your couch. I ran out of his house so fast you'd think Id be better at running from you.

Day 15: It’s spring break and I’m with my best friend and your with her and I swear I can feel you tracing her spine the way you used to trace mine

Day 16: I ignored your birthday and it felt worse than the puking I did that night

Day 17: I’m treading icy water while you’re swimming away searching for warmth. I guess I just hope you’ll loop around and find your way back to the shattered, but still there, us

Day 18: I don’t remember the sound of your voice. I don’t remember the color of your eyes. I don’t remember your the taste of your lips. I can’t feel your hands on mine or on my body. I don’t remember how soft your hair is. I must forget, all of it

Day 19: No amount of screaming gets your name out of my head

Day 20: I got on a plane today and when we took off I swear I almost walked to the door and started flying

Day 21: They say it takes 21 days to break a habit but I think I just manage to fall more in love with a greedy monster

Day 22: I saw you today and wished you a happy late birthday and promised we’d watch the third Hobbit together. I’m beginning to hate myself more

Day 23: Its the end of the month maybe next month won’t be filled with thoughts of you and killing myself. I think I’m beginning to get over you

Day 24: April fools

Day 25: I think I understand now. When you first told me you loved me your mouth curled up on the edges, two days before you left when I gave my bare self to you your mouth was a straight line as you muttered “love you”

Day 26: If you’re trying to kill me it’s working

Day 27: I woke up this morning to my blankets and pillows piled in a corner in my room. It’s something a ghost would do to make his presence known. I’m haunting myself, or maybe its the ghost of us taking over my body

Day 28: It’s almost been a month since you told me it was never me. I almost texted you happy easter but I saw those text messages we last sent and just got angry

Day 29: I hate that you act like you didnt break my heart. I hate that you think I’m fine that I’m not writing a shit poem about your shit personality

Day 30: Thirty days since you’ve wanted me. Thirty days since I told you I love you. Thirty days since you’ve slipped from my fingers. I tried catching you. You’ve been gone far too long. Thirty days is too long

Day 31: I had a nightmare last night about you. You told me you loved me and kissed my forehead. I woke up breathing heavily and shaking. I want you out of my life

Day 32: Running on no sleep isn’t fun

Day 33: I’ve been awake for over 50 hours in fear that I’ll see you in my dreams again. I cant risk that. It hurts so much. Get out of my head

Day 34: My mother told me that love will do this. That its cruel and torturous and breaks you into such little pieces not even she can pick them all up. You know where they all are, please come back and pick them up

Day 35: I talked to another guy last night we stayed up late and he asked me questions about you. We were sober so it wasn’t easy spitting up vowels and similies and euphemisms explaining the empty feeling in my chest after you left

Day 36: Fuck if i stopped seeing you everyday I swear I’d be over you.

Day 37: My knee didnt touch your leg like it used it I promise I didnt do that fuck

Day 38: You told me that the wrinkles on my leg bothered you when I sat down. That’s not what you said when we were trying not to get caught in the back of your car

Day 39: You told me you’d take me to prom and in two days it’ll just be another day you promised to spend with me. It’s funny how our plans turned to dust in a matter of seconds after cleaning

Day 40: The thunderstorm of us was inside of you and maybe that’s why it felt so close. I keep counting the seconds between the boom and light hoping you arent moving away but I fear that you are already letting others feel your storm. The plants you grew are dying, maybe you should come back to water them

Day 41: Ten days since its been a month since you left. I cried at prom because all I could look for in the crowd was you.

Day 42: I got so drunk all I could see was your face. The guy I fucked kept telling me his name wasn’t yours. I cant even scream and cry anymore, I’m burnt out. You’re all I still think about despite your efforts to continue to push me away

Day 43: I should be getting high today but if I do I’ll just write more shitty poems and think more about a shitty guy who will never care

Day 44: I think I’m trying to gain feelings for someone else because it’ll make moving on from you easier. I’m afraid to write that it hasn’t

Day 45: You traced my leg like you used to. It was like dandelion tea. It made my insides fill with happiness, you’re my yellow paint.

Day 46: Van Gogh used to eat yellow paint because he thought it would put happiness inside him. He would consume it everyday in the hopes that it would bring his sadness to rest despite the fact that it could kill him first. I guess you were my yellow paint, emphasis on the were. See, I’m not going to write about you anymore, because when I write you down I’m under the impression that you’ll stay with the words but you don’t. This is the last sentence I’ll ever write about you

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doseofathoughtxx · 7 years

Quote

You didn’t tell me goodbye. You didn’t say anything actually. You just kind of left and then you were with her.“ I whispered trying so hard to not cry. Day 1: My room turned into a ocean. I swear I found fishes and sharks swarming into my lungs. Or maybe that was the remains of you trying not to escape but desperately needing to  Day 2: You didnt try to apologize, you didnt care how bad you messed me up Day 3: I thought I was ready to move on, then I saw you with her. Day 4: We haven’t spoken in days now. My mind thinks its being shoved off a cliff. Day 5: I wish it would just hit the bottom Day 6: This will be the first weekend we dont have together, I know you’ll be seeing her and I know youll be smiling without me. I’m trying hard to learn how to too Day 7: I texted you again  Day 8: You posted a video with her on the only social media site you have. When I saw it I erupted.  Day 9: im trying not to fall asleep, im sick of dreaming about you kissing her Day 10: I slept in your sweatshirt one last time so i can feel myself engulfed in you. Day 11: its getting worse  Day 12: when will my eyes stop flowing?  Day 13: I snuck out with someone and smoked weed on their couch. She talked about love and how much it hurt. I only pictured you Day 14: I woke up crying , I imagined you laying with another girl on your couch. Day 15: Its spring break and im with my best friend and your with her and i swear i can feel you tracing her spine the way you used to trace mine Day 16: i think im trying to gain feelings for someone else because it’ll make moving on from you easier. im afraid to write that it hasnt Day 21: you’re happy loving her like everything’s alright Day 28: I got so drunk all i could see was your face. You were with her and all i could do was cry because you’re all i still think about despite your efforts to continue to push me away Day 30: thirty days since you’ve wanted me. thirty days since i told you i love you. thirty days since you’ve slipped from my fingers. i tried catching you. you’ve been gone far too long. thirty days is too long Day 32: i should be getting high today but if i do ill just write more and think more about a girl who will never care Day 34 : I saw your tweets and it felt worse than the puking i did that night Day 35: Im treading icy water while you’re swimming away from me, I guess I just hope you’ll loop around and find your way back to the shattered, but still there, us Day 37: I don’t remember the sound of your voice I don’t remember the color of your eyes I don’t remember your the taste of your lips Day 38: i saw your photo with her, i couldnt stop my body from shaking as i texted you asking what went wrong with tears streaming from my eyes Day 42 maybe next month won’t be filled with thoughts of you and killing myself. i think im beginning to be over you  Day 63: april fools  Day 64: i think i understand now. when you first told me you loved me your mouth curled up on the edges, two days before you left when i gave my bare self to you your mouth was a straight line when saying i love you  Day 65: i couldnt forget your birthday. If you’re trying to kill me its working  Day 71: i woke up this morning to my blankets and pillows piled in a corner in my room. its something s ghost would do to make his presence known. im haunting myself. or maybe its the ghost of us takin over my body  Day 72: I hate that you act like you didnt break my heart. i hate that you think im fine that im not writing a shit poem sbout your shitty personality Day 74: i had another nightmare last night about you. You were kissing her. i woke up breathing heavily and shaking. i want you out of my life Day 79: kissing strangers isnt fun Day 80: i talked to another person last night we stayed up late and she asked me questions about you. we were sober so it wasn’t easy spitting up vowels and similies explaining the empty feeling in my chest after you left Day 82: im sick of reading our conversations everyday and missing you, im trying so hard not to text you that it takes everything out of me. Day 100: Damn 100 days without you? Who would’ve imagined Day 112: its ramadan, this time last year Do you remember me? Day 113: im tired of missing you, im tired of wishing things didnt happen like this. But you dont care, why dont you care? -RO

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stgiuseppe · 8 years

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annual writing self-eval ‘16

nobody tagged me to do this but i will do it anyway !! i love 2 be introspective and talk about myself !

1. List of works published this year:

fifty kisses, O, listen, i sing the body electric, stop! (wait a minute), and my tryhard tshaw not-fic

2. Work you are most proud of (and why):

mmm this is difficult cos i guess im equally proud of all six, although for different reasons . i suppose if i had to pic it’d be O cos i remember having a lot of fun writing it and it turned out to be almost thrice the length i thought it’d be and that made me very pleased

3. Work you are least proud of (and why):

i sing the body electric cos i had so many plans for it but then i abandoned it before putting out the last part and now it’s just sat there on my ao3 (and nominated for two awards despite being incomplete? what ?) like a reminder of past mistakes. rip

4. A favourite excerpt of your writing:

uhhh this bit from stop! wait a minute

“Oh,” says Harry wistfully, who is now looking at the ceiling too. “There you are, I was wondering… well. Hello there. I like your eyes.”

“Thank you,” says the writer carefully, and then to Louis: “What’s wrong with the word ‘erotic’?”

not because i am particularly proud of what can only be described as an embarrassing debacle of boredom and self-insertion, but because sometimes when i’m having a bad day i think of harry feeling bad for a struggling fic writer and telling them they have nice eyes, and it makes me laugh

5. Share or describe a favourite review you received:

every review i receive feels like an amalgamation of a bonfire, christmas sweaters, and caramel scented candles . but what comes to mind right now are the two lovely comments that a certain tumblr/ao3 user left on my only two 1d fics. they were so sensitive to what i was really trying to say with my fics, and worded their reviews so kindly, that i’m sure i cried several times reading them. we are now mutuals :~~ )

6. A time when writing was really, really hard

hmm the last few months of the year, no doubt, cos of my exams and also my very rapidly dwindling mental health and energy

7. A scene or character you wrote that surprised you

this isnt really from the fics i listed in the beginning, but i had this concept of a zayn/grimmy fic in my head for a short while that i love to revisit from time to time for purely self-indulgent reasons, and in that i had this one scene where zayn was winding himself up too much and nick helped him snap out of it and give himself a break, and it was so uncharacteristic of nick in that verse to behave in that way that it threw me off the pairing completely

8. How did you grow as a writer this year:

difficult to pinpoint how i grew but, looking back, i feel more confident in my writing cos it’s really evident that something’s changed, like. this time last year (as in january 2016 i guess) you’d never catch me admitting to be proud of anything that i’ve written, but now i’m in this place where i can admit that without feeling like an absolute douche, so . irl character development folks

9. How do you hope to grow next year:

i have no plans man long as i keep writing keep churning out grand after grand of words, im good

10. Who was your greatest positive influence this year as a writer (could be another writer or beta or cheerleader or muse etc etc):

sunsetmog on ao3 / @magicalrocketships has been for years a source of inspiration when it comes to writing, and especially this year i found great comfort in their blog and especially their rabbit!louis tag

also ymorton on ao3 / @ihavea1dbloghelp i cant exactly explain why i love your fic but goddd do i love it so much, the bits and pieces that you churn out from time to time and post sporadically so we can only find it if we’re looking, it makes the little snippets you write feel precious somehow. and i love the way you write people in a way nobody else has really dreamed of writing. not 2 b dramatic but it’s really changed the way i look at fiction

also kate @pnkrcker who is always there to talk to me about the state of fic in various fandoms and how it’s been improving/declining, what it needs more of and what it needs less of, etc etc . thank you for taking me seriously and listening to me rambling. often times i find myself texting you about fic just so i can get back in the mood to write. you’re a legend <3

and @iridescentxj whom i subjected the worst of my nick/everyone not-fics to. thank u for putting up with me my love !!!! one day i will write a proper nick/someone fic with a proper ending . i promise. (?)

11. Anything from your real life show up in your writing this year:

noo i dont think so lmao. as of now i’m in the business of keeping my fiction fictional !

12. Any new wisdom you can share with other writers:

one of my favourite fics this year has been one without a proper ending OR a timeline, so i guess i learnt not to sweat the small stuff and jsut write the bits u wanna write cos i bet there’s someone out there reading and loving it anyway

13. Any projects you’re looking forward to starting (or finishing) in the new year:

mmmMm i want to get a poems book self-published lol let’s see . maybe i’ll finish my tomlinshaw fic after two years of letting it fester in my head, wouldnt that be somethin!

14. Tag three writers whose answers you’d like to read. ;)

@ihavea1dbloghelp @magicalrocketships aand @pnkrcker i guess! y’all arent obliged etc etc x

#hmm it is 4am nice #desi krys

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