“i’m a pizza delivery person and i got stuck in this elevator with you trying to deliver my last pizza and i’m so hungry and we shouldn’t but i’m game if you are, god i love pepperoni pizza” au with anyone you want, I just want to read how you write it
I hope this was interesting and not too boring lol. I liked this one and it was quite the interesting au prompt! Thanks for reading you guys, I love you all! -Accius
Sasha hums along to the old style music playing through the small bakery. The place was a small,1950s themed bakery. Sasha also served italian sodas, french press coffee and hot chocolate, so she had a couple tables inside where people could sit and listen to the music. She finishes setting up the display case of baked goods ranging from exotic breads to cupcakes.
She looks around the small bakery, making sure everything is ready before opening up shop and moving to behind the counter. She has been here since 4 am, making all the goods for today so they are fresh. She also had to haul the leftover buckets of baked goods to her truck. She would take them to the homeless camp down the street after closing shop like everyday, it was very rutine.
Soon Jean Kirsten came through the door, being her first customer like everyday. The Amber eyed boy gives sasha a sleepy smile. “Hey Sasha, my usual please” He hums, handing her the money. Sasha nods and gets him his french pressed caramel coffee and cinnamon raisin beagle, chatting with the boy as she preps his coffee. She then walks back to the boy and hands him his order with a gental smile “Enjoy jean” She hums. “I always do” He chuckles before leaving the small shop.
Sasha, now left alone once more, leans back and waits for someone else to come in. She had about an hour till the 7 o clock breakfast rush.
To the girl, who was my first girlfriend. You never showed my soul any hate, you taught me heartbreak and jealousy was real. You showed me innocence and kindness. I’ll forever owe you a smile when I run into you. To the girl, who I only dated through the phone. You were a different kind of love. The kind I couldn’t see, the only one I wanted to hear. You showed me presence even though you were only vocal chords. You made my voice seem important. You were the first person to hear me sing. The first person to show me that character and love is an ever-growing thing. A timeless hotline that’ll live forever in the deep poetic well of my barren lands. To the girl, who I fell in love with during the Summer. You were intelligent, but filled with cockiness. That made you beautiful, but your aims were always higher than mine. Your pride and self-respect was something I’ve never had. You may have forgotten that we dated, but I’ll always remember what you said about respect. I forgot it as of late, but I’m slowly remembering your glasses echoing in the dark realms I hold in my mind. To the girl I tried to kiss, but was too inexperienced to know how. I know you thought I was silly and too shy, but thanks for giving me a chance. I know how to kiss now, but you’ll always remind me of acceptance and trusting another heart. You were cute to your core and had bones made from milk and flowers. Sweet and soothing. To the girl that I snapped into a thousand paper cranes. I’m fucking sorry. I’ll never forgive myself. I walk past you once every year, but I never had the guts to run next to you and hug you. To apologize like a man for crushing you. I didn’t even have the audacity to break you in person. You reached into my Summer and will always show my eyes how not to lie. You’ll always remind me that two hearts are eventually broken while loving another. I haven’t forgiven myself yet. I want you to know, I wasn’t real towards you, but you were to me. Your unrequited love, I’ll write you a story about mended broken kisses. I’ll give you a bandaid for the times you were lonely. The time when you tried to feel more, but I pushed you away time after time. I changed your perspective on love. I broke your smile. I still think about you, but that’s all there is to it. I’m sorry. Never forgive me, just try to forget me. That’s the only thing I’ll ask from you. I’m sorry, I’m sorry, I’m sorry. To the girl that led me on. I forgave you 5 years ago. I saw you in the beginning of this year and I remembered you for lust and how you made my smile rush past every tree and tickle the leaves until they fell. You showed my heart the power of falling and never regretting about the bruises. I will never forget about you. You have a damaged heart, but I failed to see it in your empty eyes and fake laugh. I can read people now. I can get you now. You taught me that lovers cannot be best friends if it’s over. You showed my fingers how to touch a soul. You taught my lips how to feel the flames of a thundering Autumn. You may have changed, but so have I. You may feel like you’re dead to me, but your smile and the way you kicked my chair everyday to get my attention… I’ll never forgive myself for not giving you that last kiss. I know we’re no longer a part of each other’s lives, but you loved to love and to be loved. Everyone may view you in a negative light, but somewhere surrounding a piece of my first broken heart… you’re still young and reckless. I loved that about you. You’ll always be my first real best friend. To the girl that left me, but wrote me my first heartfelt letter. I know you wanted my voice back, I’ve been told my squeaky tone makes people feel light. When I was yours, I knew nothing of yelling. Our love was simple and straightforward. No bullshit. You taught my clothes how to appreciate cologne. You smiled your soft and tender mind in a way that’ll always make me stutter. You were not perfect, but you’ll always be a part of this story. Our story has ended, but you’ll be the best aroma in it. The smell of letting go and allowing yourself to grow. To the girl that I dumped because friendship and deceit became a thing within my spirit and understanding. You loved another while we felt the raindrops. I wasn’t mad. I was hurt, but not mad. Our cute relationship had a future that you still cling onto. I met your whole family and they loved me. I will forever be in your debt. You showed my heart that even the rich can love the poor. I am now partially wealthy in my words. Can you hear me now? I’ll always remember you as the girl, who was silly and never learned how to kiss properly. I showed you how to tie cherry stems with a twist. You filled my arms with warm slices from Summer and that is why you’re important. You lived in your head and every time we hung out you were on your phone. That’s fine. It’s okay. I’m not mad at you, we just needed to grow. I still think about you from time to time. Did you really think we had a chance? You came back when he broke your heart. You wanted to feel something. Something ancient and old. I could not give you that satisfaction, I’m glad I did not. Our story ended years ago, but you’ll always be my first home. I felt heavy and sharp around you. My emotions were stable and my words were sly and cut at your heart. You always loved cheesy and corny love movies, guess what? I’m a poet now. Would you have loved me more if I knew how to write and appreciate your immaturity? To the girl, who will always be my final secret. I hope you find love and peace within your scars. I know your family damaged you, but you’re independent and strong. Your will-power and manipulation was fierce and attractive. I’ll never forget about how your smile tricked the world. You were the jester of all jesters. You’ll always have a soft spot in my soul. No matter how dead or hardened my fingers get, you told me that it’s okay to love. You were okay to love. To the girl that was my unknown lover. You told my eyes that love is different and vast. Not like the ocean, but like the planets. We’re all different when we’re in love, when we fall out and when we hold onto love. You showed me that in two days and then left me. Thanks for being unknown. Thanks for being you. I love you. To the girl as of late, I know you’re broken and missing. I know you’re kissing my lips in another one of your dreams. I know your suicidal attempt still haunts you. I know you were never one to give up on the ones to love. I will love you forever for that. A small and tiny piece with my favorite kind of sentiment. You told me that dreams and nightmares are exactly the same. You explained the importance of having someone catch you as you fall. You’ll always remind my scars that it’s okay to bleed. You took time to tell me that it’s okay to ask for help. You showed my far away sinking heart that love can be revived. That no matter how late it is… that you’d be there. You showed my fingers that writing about one person can be unhealthy and only hurt myself even more. You were right. Thank you, I love you. To the initial reason for the creation of this poetry blog. I love you. You showed my love the importance of words. Commitment. Trust. Ideas. Future. My high school sweetheart. My Nightingale. My lover of all sorts. My lust. My trust issues. My prettiest smile. My fake smiles. My broken heart. My sleeping girlfriend, who never liked to party or stay up late. My person, who added more than poetry into my life. You showed me the important details of loving someone. How to love you for more than limbs. How to set your soul on fire. How to set myself on fire. How to kiss flower petals. How to destroy them. How to make up. How to break repetition. How to start bad habits. How to grow out of them. How to develop memories and retain them even when you’re breaking me. You’ll always be my favorite day. March 31, 2010. I know we haven’t talked much lately, I know we may even slightly hate each other. I know my lips taste like poison and my yelling shatters your writing. I know you still miss me and I still miss you. I know you probably have a new lover and it’s okay. I’m happy for you. Do you believe that people can love each other endlessly, but were not meant to be together? I remember our secret trades during Summer and it made the adrenaline pump all throughout my body. You made me cry the first time we hung out, not because I was sad or anything, but because you stretched my shallowness and added in your words. Maybe the reason why you don’t write anymore is because I yelled the words out of your spine. You lost your backbone to swallow and spit words. You were frightened. I can never forgive myself for letting you go. For yelling. For abusing. For being clingy. For not telling you enough stories. For making your parents hate me. For letting you be the laughing stock of your family. You showed me what it meant to be whole. To have family. You showed me the importance of family first. You told me that tv shows are so worth it. Only a little bit, you’d say. Baby, I love you, you’d say as you doze off into the dreams of nothingness. You were different in every way. I loved you for that. I still love you for that. You were a dictionary made from random facts. You were a book that loved to be read. You were a fan fiction article. You were a diehard fan if you loved it. A bookworm. A nerd. A small tiny soul with a whole lot of sensual smiles. Your intelligence made you sexy. You had the qualities that I’d chase forever to find. I may never be the same to you, but the kisses and scars you’ve left me, I’ve always returned them. We may be strangers soon, but you. You’ll always be the first one to fix my broken heart and then reopen it. You’ll always be my silly klutz. You’ll always hold my real smile somewhere dusting in your binder of poems. Do you still read them? It’s okay if you don’t. I know you might not know it, but we were real at one point. We’re just growing. We’re just changing. One thing though, I’ll never forget about you. I love you. I do. I do, I think you’re the one, just not the one right now. That’s what you said, right? There will always be a part of my soul that’ll hate you forever. What’s love without a little hate, right? You broke my love in the worst way, but you made my desire for finding my passions real. You echoed your knowledge of loving and caring for another into my cranium. You held hands with both hemispheres of my brain. You will always hold my tongue with your sharp stares. You’ll always wrestle with my heart in the ring on our fingers. You’ll read this tonight and cry. You’ll call me. Promise me that you won’t. We aren’t finished growing, baby. I love you, I do, but we’re still writing the story about how we weren’t good enough for each other. I want you back, but I won’t do it. I have to let you go. I have to let us go. You’ll always be my favorite flower to visit. My friendship with your soul will be one I’ll always remember. You pushed my personality to it’s absolute best. You gave your body to me and I ruined you. You gave your heart to me and I yelled at you. You gave me true happiness and I even fucked that up. I know we’re still in love, but it’s okay. This is only the ending of a chapter. Thanks for staying so long. You were there long enough to fill my head with poems I never knew I had. Promise me one thing. You will write more. The world will see your magic. A girl, who loved Harry Potter more than her own smile. I know you’re not in love with yourself sometimes. I know you still cry a lot. I know you’re still a handful. I know you still hate cigarettes. I know you’re healthy with a hint of sass. I know we were completely different, but you loved me anyway. I know. I know. Don’t cry, okay? Your sensitivity still crawls inside of my skin. Every blood cell. Every time I shower and someone had left the shower head on and the water is cold as fuck. You’re always my baby. No one else. Here’s my last text to you. [s2] I love you.
To my future lovers, read this. To my past lovers, you were all different, but the love you all shared with me… it was one and the same. Different lips, smiles, and bodies, but your hearts were all identical. You loved my imperfections. Short or long in our duration of love, you loved me for me. I owe you all this poem. I owe you my love. I owe you my heart. Have it. I love you.
Arjaka Basil Common Basil French Basil Garden Basil Luole Royal Herb St. Josephwort Sweet Basil Tulsi
The plant known as the basil is an annual herb, which is cultivated worldwide as a flavoring herb in many cuisines. The basil comes in many different varieties, each with its own unique chemical composition and characteristic flavor - the main use of the herb is culinary. The flavor and character of any particular variety of basil is affected to a great extent by many external environmental factors, including factors such as temperature, the type of soil, the geographic location, and even the amount of rainfall received by the individual plant. Morphogically the plant possesses thin branching root which grow out into bushy stems that can reach 1-2 feet in height when fully grown, the stem of the plant bears many leaves which have a characteristic purple hue or coloration, and the flowers are peculiar in having two lips. Floral colors can vary from in fully white to fully red - at times a slight purple tinge can be detected in the flowers.
90 Shilling is a Scottish ale available throughout the year. This is Odell’s flagship brew, which means its been around since their beginning in 1989, and has since become one of their best sellers. Aromas give malty suggestions of caramel drizzled sweet bread. Hops come across as weak hints of orange and peach tea.
The palate begins as mellow malts initiate a gentle roast with a sweetness like caramel and brown sugar. Next, malts shift into flavors of toasted bread with a husky twang. A sour flavor is embellished by unripe oranges. Earthy hops make the final statement with herbal, grassy flavors as a dull bitterness slides down to the underbelly. Mouthfeel remains smooth, easy-going, and nicely carbonated over with a moderate body that clings in short sustain. Drinkability is great.
It’s a well-balanced, simple, yet satisfactory brew. I really do wish it were more complex, but there’s always something to be said for simplicity. As is customary, sweet malts have the leading edge. Hops are supportive, bringing bitter/sour qualities to level off the initial sweetness. It gives a pretty toned down expression of the style, ensuring everything goes down smoothly. Drinking more than one or two would be easy. Due to its light body and malt-forward sweetness, this should certainly agree with the general palate. 90 Shilling is a great standard to have around, and always has a spot in my fridge. I recommend it!
Love is a distant aroma at best, a whithering smile thats stuck deep in your vest. The night air it wraps its fingers around your body it shakes from a now distant sound oh, the sound of her voice a sweet symphony played over and over until you are free.
When Hani walks into her condo at exactly 7:00 p.m. and undoes the fastenings of her heels, she knows she’s tired. She knows that today has been longer than most and that her feet are aching more than usual. She also knows that there’s blood on her shirt, palms, and neck. The faint, albeit distinct, scent of smoke practically rolls off the Beretta 70 in her hand and slowly disperses throughout the area. Iron and smoke have never been the best aroma. It doesn’t take long at all for the girl to decide that she needs a shower, tossing her clothes into the hamper and hopping under the stream of hot water.
Within an hour, she’s dressed in a pair of jeans and a white blouse, topped off with her favoured purple garnet earrings and several silver bracelets around her wrist. It doesn’t take long at all for the girl to strap on a pair of heels to match the earrings, and she’s out the door in the next minute, Gadino tote in hand with a fat stack of credit cards inside. By the end of the night, nearly four hours later, she’s got four shopping bags on each arm, each containing at least one other smaller bag from different stores, but she isn’t planning on going back to her condo just yet.
She has half a mind to visit one more store, but Hani knows that blowing off another couple hundred dollars on a pair of shoes wouldn’t cheer her up all that much–not right now, at least. So with a short sigh, the girl tosses her gaze this way and that in search of something to do, eyes eventually landing on a restaurant she’s been meaning to visit. It may be too late for dinner, but there’s never a wrong time for a drink, which gives Hani all the more reason to cross the street and enter the establishment. Without missing a single beat, she makes her way to the bar and picks the seat at the furthest end, placing half her bags on the floor and the rest onto the seat next to her–insurance, really, to make sure no one sits by her.
With her eyes fixed on the screen of her cell phone, the girl primly crosses one leg over the other and asks the bartender, “What’s the best you’ve got?”