writingail

[writingail]

I feel the most empowered when I feel happy.

[writingail]

―    SOFT    INTERACTIONS    I’M    A    SUCKER    FOR.

you’re    reading    a    book,    naked,    and    i’m    absentmindedly    running    my    fingertips    across    your    skin.    you’re    warning    me    that    if    i    continue,    you’ll    have    to    pin    me    down    but    i    continue    because    you’re    just    fucking    breath - taking,    the    way    you    lounge    on    the    bed    and    the    sun    kisses    your    skin…    i    feel    like    i    could    worship    you    all    day.

i’ve    had    a    rough    day    and    i    come    home    to    you    having    prepared    a    hot    bubble    bath.    you    welcome    me    with    a    bottle    of    wine    in    the    one    hand,    and    a    pint    of    ice-cream    in    the    other.    we    spend    the    rest    of    the    evening    in    the    bath    tub,    watching    a    movie    that    i    love    and    you    washing    my    hair.

work    is    killing    you    and    you’ve    been    exhausted    for    the    whole    week    so    i’ve    decided    to    pick    you    up    from    your    office,    wearing    your    favourite    clothes    and    perfume,    and    we’re    heading    to    your    favourite    diner,    slow    dancing    in    spite    of    the    curious    looks    that    we’re    given.

we’re    on    a    nightly    walk,    you’re    showing    me    the    school    you    went    to    and    where    you    used    to    work.    we    buy    a    bottle    of    cheap    liquor    and    sit    down    on    the    pavement,    surrounded    by    cars    and    street    lights    and    the    occasional    passer - by    that    immediately    sees    just    how    in    love    we    are;    we    get    drunk    and    philosophise    about    life    –    i    think    i    want    to    spend    the    rest    of    my    life    with    you.

we’re    at    a    party    with    friends    that    don’t    know    about    us.    they    suspect    it,    everyone    who    has    two    eyes    can    see    how    i    look    at    you    and    how    you    look    at    me.    it’s    getting    late,    a    few    people    decide    to    stay    because    the    buses    don’t    drive    this    late    and    it’s    cold    outside    anyway.    i    sleep    on    the    couch    and    you    sleep    in    a    sleeping    bag    on    the    ground    and    in    the    middle    of    the    night,    i    get    up    to    join    you.    you    smell    like    home    and    i    can    immediately    sleep.

[writingail]

“Oh that’s a pretty one,” Esme admires, leaning forward to get a better look at the jagged scar running the length of his calf. “Must’ve been a big branch, or a high fall for it to end up looking like you got filleted.” Interactions with patients were pretty routine; review the chart, ask the necessary questions, complete the procedure, and send them away with after-care instructions. But this? This was a welcomed change. She barely minded that they were tying up one of the sam rooms while a line of patients waited outside. 

Esme moves to the small table, her hands automatically gathering the used equipment, sorting paperwork, and throwing away trash. As much as she was enjoying the back-and-forth, Caleb was patched up and seemed ready to make the hour-long drive back home. But then his words catch her off guard. What time do you get outta here today? Today? 

She looks at him, brows slightly raised - not dismissive, just surprised. It’s something in the way he asks, casual but confident, likes he’s not in the habit to saying things he doesn’t mean. City guys talked fast and forgot your name just as quick. Caleb didn’t seem in any kind of rush, and it threw her off just enough to make her curious.

“… Six,” she says finally, the word coming out slower like she’s still testing the ideas as it leaves her mouth. “I’m off at six.” Just an hour from now. Esme crossed her arms, not in defence but just to give her hands something to do. “I should probably tell you that dating patients is technically frowned upon,” she says, head tilting slightly, “but seeing as you’re no longer bleeding on my table, I guess we’re in a moral grey zone.” 

“So what is it you’re planning to show me exactly? Because if this ends with me holding a fishing rod or on the back of a four-wheeler I need to be mentally prepared."

“Sorry about that, Doctor.” He said it sincerely, “I appreciate you keeping me all whole.” It’s all done then, and some tension in his body releases as she chats with him. It’s nice that she’s willing to lean in a little, to give him a little gossip. After all, he was a notorious busybody. That, and he enjoyed the connection, like feeling he was in on something with someone. So he could let her in on something too. 

 Once he was bandaged, he leaned down, rolling up the leg of his dark blue denim, showing a scar on his right calf. “Climbed up a tree a few years ago,” He’d been hunting, had gone up to get a better vantage point on a big buck, and he’d taken the shot, made the kill. But a branch had snapped, and he’d gotten snagged on another on his way down. The scar was long, jagged. “Didn’t make a graceful exit.” 

Her words send a different kind of warmth over his body. Caleb isn’t the type to make assumptions, but he might think she’s flirting with him. And he knows this is the time he should be exiting, he should be leaving and heading back home. But he can’t quite bring himself to. Not yet at least. That would be a waste. Grinning, he rubbed at the back of his neck, drawling, “Maybe I can show you how ‘built different’ I am sometime. What time do you get outta here today?”

[writingail]

“You want to show me how pretty I am by sleeping with me?” Karina repeats, raising an eyebrow at him as she waits for clarification. She wasn’t one to boast about her looks, but she knew full well that she was pretty. It was one of the first things people noticed about her, the things that always turned heads whenever she had a night out with the girls. And it wasn’t that she didn’t enjoy hearing all the compliments. But Gabriel was her best friend, and deep down she hoped there was something more to their connection than just her appearance.

"Why would I lie?" Raising a questioning eyebrow, he lifted his shoulders into a shrug. "I don't have any reason to lie. You're the prettiest girl I know and I feel like it'd be an honor if you let me show you just how pretty you are to me."

[writingail]

“You can deny all you want, but you have ‘guilty’ is practically written all over your face,” Karina says, leaning back on her palms and stretching out her legs against the asphalt. The faint scent of smoke still lingers in the air, though in under the cover of night it’s hard to tell exactly where the smoke is coming from. She watches Theresa with a knowing look, head tilted slightly. “So what was it? Rogue candle left burning a bit too close to the curtains? A late night snack gone wrong?” She rattles off, listing ideas on her fingers. “No - it’s gotta be a curler.”

theresa howard. twenty five. cis woman. she / her. beautician. bisexual. liverpudlian with a heart of gold.

"i don't know what you're talking about. has someone said something?" theresa, whilst a bubbly and persuasive woman, struggled to lie - especially when she'd made a mistake. so much so, she's immediately defensive, her accent deepening as her gaze frantically searches their surroundings, well aware of the cause of this current...unfortunate situation. the blonde knows that if everyone else were to discover her part in their current predicament, she'd definitely receive a nasty present on her doormat from the teenagers that lived below her.

her heart races in the chest, made all the more uncomfortable by the constant ringing of the damn fire alarm. she'd been able to put out the tiny blaze that she'd caused, but the harm had already been done.

[writingail]

Anna Sawai by Cartier for the Vanity Fair Oscar Party 2025

[writingail]

"I can't tell if you're lying right now, Gabriel." Karina studies him for a moment, searching his face for any sign of a joke or a hidden meaning. "You can't be serious," she says, her tone a mixture of disbelief and cautious hope.

closed to: @writingail based on this

"You know... I know we're just friends, but if you ever asked me to fuck you? I'd do it in a heartbeat."

[writingail]

Sydney Park in DMZ

[writingail]

open to: all connection: neighbour, one-night-stand, fwb, friend, frenemy, anything! muse: karina, 24, slp masters student, adventurous night owl

Toned legs stretch out across the cold, cracked pavement of the parking lot as Karina watches the sleepy residents trickle out of the building, faces drawn and eyes bleary. The world was caught in that hazy in-between; the witching hour or the first light of dawn depending on how you looked at it. But the shrill, relentless chime of the fire alarm and the acrid scent of smoke yanked her from the warmth of her bed and into the night. A night that was, like so many others in this city, anything but bring.

Leaning back on her hands, she scans the crowd and locks eyes with the back of a familiar head, a smirk tugging at the corners of her lips. "If I didn't know any better," she calls out, her voice laced with mock suspicion, "I'd swear this was your doing."

[writingail]

I want - no, I need more long term, in depth ships. The kind of ships that I can’t stop thinking about. That have a real chokehold on you as an rper. Really thought out, headcanoned and plotted ships. Where we obsess over them endlessly. Go back and forth and stay up late just to read one or two more replies. Where you can get so attached to the characters involved that you can feel what they’re feeling, the good, the bad, the ugly. The kind of ships that really make the RP experience. The ones we can really develop, see grow over the months, have long angsty threads of, but also short fluffy or smutty ones as well. Or where we can post a random one liner just to mix things up here and there! Yeah, I need more ships like that. So please, like… message… send a carrier pigeon... doesn’t matter! Because as the great t.swif.t once said… it’s a need.

[writingail]

Anna Sawai by Christian Högstedt for the Vanity Fair Oscar Party 2025

[writingail]

SIMONE ASHLEY for Vogue

[writingail]

SHAY MITCHELL attending the 2025 Vanity Fair Oscar Party (March 02, 2025)

[writingail]

OLIVIA RORIGO  attends the Vanity Fair Oscar Party (March 02, 2025)

[writingail]

CHARLES MELTON Love Hangover (Official Video)

[writingail]

CHARLES MELTON Love Hangover Music Video (2025)

[writingail]