i love poking my fingers in these

To someone else, love

Warning: …angssst?

“My little treasure hunter,” you cooed at the ball of black fur clutching something against his tummy, hiding it from you.

“What’s that you got there, niffles? Let’s see it, come on.” You reached out your hand cautiously, trying not to spook the lovable little thief. You poked him gently on the side, trying to tickle him and he responded by wrapping his tiny paw around your finger, pushing it away.

Out of the corner of your eye, you see Newt attending to one of the occamies. You found the poor thing bleeding and cowering behind one of the potted plants the other day; you tried to carry it back to its nest but it wouldn’t stop snapping at your hands, so you called on Newt to do the task for you.

You glanced at Newt as he bandaged the injured creature. Distracted by your thoughts, the niffler frantically scurried away from you, making its way to the shed where you found him sitting on the third to last rung of the ladder leading outside the case.

“Come here, niffles. I won’t take it away from you, I just want to see what that is”, you tell the niffler, arms outstretched trying to welcome him into a hug. Newt had just finished treating the occamy and was on his way to where you were; he heard you talking to the niffler and tried to walk toward you as inconspicuously as possible.

“Sweetheart, I think your niffler’s got something there,” you whispered as Newt quietly entered the shed.
“I don’t think it’s a coin this time,” you add, looking to him for what to do.

The slender silver chain spilled from his little… fingers. It was a necklace, and you didn’t own one, so it certainly wasn’t yours. It couldn’t have possibly been Newt’s, he wasn’t the type to wear necklaces, at least, you didn’t think so. Maybe it was Queenie’s or Tina’s or… Jacob’s?

“Again?” He asked, weary. “Hand it over please.” Newt held his palm out to the niffler, disapproving.

“Give it back, you pilfering pest.” His eyes too soft for his stern words.

The niffler leaped onto your shoulders, mere centimeters from Newt’s grasp. Niffler clung to your arm for dear life, Newt tried to pry the helpless little beast away from you. A little too harsh, a little too impatient.

“Newt!” you cried out loud. Your skin now etched with scratches from niffler’s struggle. Newt, startled and hiding behind his hair from chagrin, let go of your “little treasure hunter”.

With the necklace still in his paws, he climbed up to your neck. As you were trying to make sense of the frustration darkening your love’s eyes, the niffler was peering behind your ear.

“What’s gotten into you, Mr. Scamander?” He avoided your gaze, a pained expression on his face.

“Love… what’s the matter?” You hated seeing him like this. This distant behavior is all too familiar, it only came about at the mention of one particular name.

You were surprised by the touch of cold metal, the necklace now rested on your collar bones, a singular pearl dangling above the button of your shirt; niffler was currently fastening the lock behind your neck.

Newt looked up at you the way one might look at a thief caught in the act, a combination of shock and disgust and anger. And it was at that exact moment that you knew who the necklace belonged to. At that exact moment, you were brought back to the heart-wrenching hurt that is Leta Lestrange.

There was a certain dull ache in your throat that prevented you from swallowing or breathing or speaking. It clamped your jaw shut and kept your tongue glued to the roof of your mouth.

He assured you years and years ago, back when you were still tiptoeing on the edge of falling completely in love with him, that the girl from Hogwarts no longer held a place in his heart. You wouldn’t allow yourself to believe that he lied to you, Newt isn’t like that. Newt was honest and kind and… loyal.
He was loyal.
He was loyal… to you, wasn’t he?

“It’s hers, isn’t it?” You said through clenched teeth, unable to stop yourself.

He looks away.

“I never got the chance to give it to her.”

Who’s fingers are those?

My dear they are mine! You summoned me here now it’s tickling time!
So, where do we start, on this cold rainy morning, need to liven you up and stop you from yawning.

But sir I don’t get it, is this but a dream, you suddenly appeared but are real it would seem.

My dear girl you called me, more often than twice, is this you bedroom, it’s terribly nice!

Yes it is, I’m confused though, when did I call? I don’t think I did, from what I recall.

My dear all those times, when you were alone, your mind wandered into that tickling zone! You thought of those fingers, a feather, the brush, and all of the ways they could make your face blush!

When friends at school teased, and poked on your ribs, you secretly loved it, I’m not telling fibs!
On the beach in the summer, sand tickled your toes, and I got the message when you wrinkled your nose!

For years you’ve suppressed it, with feelings of shame, and so brings me here for some tickling games! The build up of feelings, the want and the needs, were all subtle hints like your tumblr feeds!

Oh my, so it’s my fault for hiding my kink, worried embarrassed about what people think. How did you get in, my door has been shut, I’m actually excited though there maybe a but…

Butts are for sitting and holding up pants, everyone has one from humans to ants! Unless that’s a hint you should probably shoosh, before I start with tickles all over your tush!

Now enough of this chitchat, you’ve waited so long, hop onto the bed, I sure hope that it’s strong.

For I’m going to tickle you all sorts of ways, you’ll be blushing and giggling for a couple of days!
Now where shall I start, this tickling treat, maybe a hairbrush for those pretty feet?
Then fingers on tummy then up under your arms, these wriggling fingers are like lucky charms! They’ll squiggle and wiggle and spider and scrape, let’s get you restrained, no chance of escape!

Oh gosh Mr Tickler, I’m so glad you came, all this time without tickles, has made me insane!
Those fingers are tickling, my face is bright red, a few minutes more and I think I’ll be dead….

So all of you out there, especially the Lees, take heed of this story, I’m asking you please.
Repressing your feelings, your wants and your kink, will send messages to Tickler and then make him think…

But it’s better to be ticked by someone you know, someone you care for with love you can show.
Being ashamed to feel different you don’t need to hide, it’s time to confess your true tickle side.

You’ll feel so much better just telling someone, and if that your partner it may bring some fun!
Relieved that it’s out there, you’ll feel positively fine, when that someone you care for says it’s now…. TICKLE TIME!

A Friday night…..

Taehyung: I should go to the gym…

Jungkook: What? Why?….you hate exercising

Taehyung: I know but look at my tummy *pokes his little tummy and Jungkook followes his moves with adoration in his eyes*

Jungkook: What’s with it? It’s soft and cute and the best pillow in the world…now come here ~ 

Jungkook puts his head on it and lets Taehyung run his fingers through his hair, playing with the locks. Hearing Taehyung’s gigglings is the best music to his ears and he just hopes the boy will always love himself the way he is~….just like how he does :3  

You Love Me

Request: awh u already have so many requests in queue I feel bad adding more work for u….but if u get a chance to, could u do number sixteen with svt’s scoups plz?? thank u so much, I love ur writing (:

16) Your bias confesses through text message while sitting next to you

Member: Seventeen’s S.Coups x Y/N

Type: Fluff

I moaned, flopping around on the worn leather couch I hadn’t remembered falling asleep on. I was being hissed at by a raspy voice I didn’t quite recognize as slender fingers poked at my ribcage. 

“What, what, what,” I spat, barely opening my eyes wide enough to assess the situation. A very awake Seungcheol stared back at me, unblinking and pouty. 

“What,” I repeated, readjusting to face him. I tugged the quilt I was sharing with him toward my shoulders and waited. 

“I-I…” he croaked, he began to clear his throat and immediately launched into a coughing fit. I furrowed my brows as I focused on him, waiting for him to finish. 

“You?” I said slowly, trying to prompt him to speak. 

“No…no…voice,” he stuttered, shaking his head with each word. He leaned back, seemingly out of energy from the small and broken sentence. 

“You lost your voice?” I hummed, sitting up slowly. “When did that happen? You had a voice yesterday.” 

Seungcheol rolled his eyes and crossed his arms, completely unamused by the situation. 

“Was it the show last night? Did you go too hard?” I chuckled, slithering deeper into my quilt. He cut his eyes at me. 

“What’s wrong Coups? Jeonghan got your tongue?” I whispered, trying to keep my composure. 

As if hit by a spike of electricity, Seungcheol uncrossed his arms and dug deep into his pocket. He pulled out his phone and tapped at the screen with impressive speed. After several moments, my phone buzzed beside me, his name and picture appearing. 

“don’t you think i hear that shit enough from the children?”

I smirked, glancing at his words and looked back at him. “Do they know you call them children?”

Seungcheol’s eyes grew wide as he looked at me, then back out to the kitchen. His shoulders eased when he made sure none of the members were looming there, eventually leaning back into the cushions of the couch. He tapped again at his phone screen and sucked at the inside of his mouth, biting his cheek. 

“do you have to say that out loud?!! they’re all quiet and asleep. don’t give them a reason to bother us.”

It was my turn to roll my eyes, deciding to play his game. I tapped at the screen, a small smirk on my face. 

“when did you become a stay at home dad?”

“idk 2014?”

I sighed, curling around to tuck my knees beneath my chin. I tapped idly at the screen, unsure of how to text someone who was sitting next to me. 

“so do you think you caught some sort of cold? or did you just lose your voice?”

“no idea. i’m freezing, so maybe i’m catching a cold?”

“Come here,” I sighed, wiggling over to him. He watched me carefully as I moved over, giving him a bit more of the quilt that covered us. I slid my body to lay flush against his. I rested my cheek gently on his shoulder, barely breathing as I realized his own breathes had become quicker. He looked down at me nervously, not daring to move. 

I took a long breath in through my nose, letting Seungcheol’s smell invade my senses. He smelled incredible. In the short time we had been friends, one of my simple pleasures in life was simply being close to him. He smelled like a businessman, freshly dressed in an Armani suit, and ready to impress a CEO of a multi billion dollar company. He liked to pretend he was grown, and his scent definitely reflected that. 

I looked up through my lashes to make eye contact with him. To be honest, I had picked the most handsome man to befriend. I felt no shame as he watched me watch him, allowing for my eyes to dance along his jaw line, pause at his nose, and end on his eyes. 

I knew he was surprised by my lack of embaressment as I openly leered at him. The only reason why I was confident enough to do so was because I knew he was in no position to tease me about it. 

“take a picture, it’ll last longer” read the text that appeared on my screen. 

“take your ass back to the 80′s where you found that joke…wait you were born in the 90′s”

“i’m vintage”

“which is just a fancy way of saying; you crusty”

“if i’m so crusty, why you staring?”

“you crusty, but you cute”

“i may not be able to speak, but i know you can hear my eyes rolling right now”

I giggled, sending a cursory glance back up toward Seungcheol. A wide smile was painted on his face as he looked back down at me. He took a sharp intake of breath through his nose before expelling it out of his mouth as he picked up his phone again, pounding quickly at the keyboard. 

“so you think i’m cute?”

I bit my lip, unsure if I should respond seriously or in my true nature. 

To hell with it, he knew what he was getting into when we became friends.

“damn coups, all you gotta do is scroll up. why do i have to repeat myself?”

“i already have 12 pains in the ass in my life, i can’t believe i’ve added another”

“you love me”

Seungcheol nodded, biting his own lip now as he cut his eyes at me. He focused on my eyes, then my lips, before returning to his screen. 

“how’d you know?”

I swore my heart skipped a beat as I read the few simple words that had scrolled into my vision. I gulped, the noise audible as I stared at the black and white text before me. 

“I-uh-what?” I whispered, looking anywhere but at him. 

“i have to say, falling in love with you has been a bit of an inconvenience, but allegedly…the best love stories are when you fall in love with the most unexpected person at the most unexpected time.”

“Is this you trying to woo me?” I giggled. Seungcheol grinned sheepishly as he stretched, wrapping his arm around me. With his free hand, his thumb tapped at the screen. 

“idk is it working?”

“It could be,” I cooed, tilting my face up. I kissed the underside of his jaw and smiled. 

His cheeks were tinted with a dark blush as he looked away, speaking in a broken whisper. “Oh, it is totally working.”

Originally posted by seungcheofine

magicallucykirkland  asked:

Could you make a situation where 2p Norway's s/o confess that they like him?

What did she just say?! She liked him too?! He was absolutely dead silent for a moment, before he started to giggle and then hug her tightly, while spinning her around. He couldn’t believe it! She loved him just as much as he did as well!

“I love you, my Darling! I promise I’ll be the best boyfriend in this entire world!”

She kissed his cheek and giggled quietly as well, poking his cheeks, while hugging him very tightly back.

“I know that you will! I love you too Loki!”

He held her close, while running his fingers through her hair.

“I’ll never let you go, Darling…”


Me- daddy wake up *rubs daddy’s arm*

Daddy- *sleeping good*

Me- daddy wake up please, I’m hungry!

Daddy- *mumbles in his sleep*

Me- *pokes daddy in the face, to wake him up* daddy I’m hungry!

Daddy- *still asleep*

Me- *pokes daddy in the face* HEY I’m hungry daddy!

Daddy- *turns and tries to eat my finger*

Me- NO, daddy I’m the one that’s hungry not you!!

Daddy- * still half asleep* what do you need baby?

Me- daddy, I’m hungry!

Daddy- * starts to drift back off to sleep*

Me- daddy I’m hungry * in a pouty voice*

Daddy- well go get something to eat baby, daddy’s sleepy.

Me- fine daddy I will just go and eat all the junk food and candies I can find!! * in a bratty tone*

Daddy- ok baby that’s good.*still half asleep*

Me- what? Really daddy? * with a surprised look*

Me- ok!!! * starts to climb out of bed*

Daddy- wait, what?* still half asleep*

Daddy- no don’t do that!!!!!

Me- ok daddy

Me- * goes and stares at all the sweets, but makes a sandwich instead!

This happened to me the other night it was so silly and daddy kept trying to eat my finger when I poked his face😍😘. I love him so much 💕💕💕💕💕💕😘


“You think so?” Buck murmured at the mention. “Okay. I’ll see you soon and call her while I wait. Thanks, punk.” He listened to Steve’s answer and hung up. He waited a moment before calling is mother, however. 

When he was done he looked at the poor babe on his bed and he reached out to poke her nose and she grabbed his finger again, a giggling squeal escaping her. “You just keep making my heart melt, you know that? God, everyone’s going to love you and I wonder if I’ll even get you to myself because everyone will want to spend time with you. Geez, did Dot even leave me a name to call you?” he mumbled and reached for the letter, didn’t see anything, so he looked in the envelope. “Aha! Birth certificate.” Looking at it, he wrinkled his nose, “Okay, well, I know you can change baby names within six months, so you know what? You’re going to be my Angelina.” She made another squeal, “Aw, you like that? Okay. Angel. Baby knows best.”

Read here also on Ao3

Fic Rec Friday 7/22

Dang I was gone for a while and I missed tsukyam week! Whatever I couldn’t choose just three of those fics anyway

Title: cheeks
Author: cinnamuntoast
Rating: General
Pairings: Kagehina 
Words / Chapters: 4209 / Oneshot
Summary: Hinata’s cheeks are swollen and puffy, like he’s holding a deep breath underwater, or like a toddler that still has their baby fat. It makes him look younger, like he’s back in junior high, and yeah, he kinda does look like a chipmunk, Kageyama won’t lie.
or: Hinata has his wisdom teeth removed. Chubby cheeks and poking fingers and a lot of kissing ensues.
Han’s Opinion: This was so ridiculously adorable and I loved it aaa also my friend got his tonsils taken out and he called me while he was high in the middle of history and it was the best thing ever BUT YEAH this fic was adorable and Kageyama’s a dork carry on
AO3 Link

Title: flow without stopping
Author: shizuoh ( @saltyiwaizumi) (DUDE i didn’t even realize it was you okay)
Rating: Teen & Up
Pairings: Kuroken, Iwaoi, Bokuaka, Kiyoyachi
Words / Chapters: 17170 / 6
Summary: It’s stupid. It’s impossible. It’s only something that could happen in his video games. But… he is curious, and there’s no one around to see him try out the silly little trick.
Kenma cautiously lifts his hands. To his horror, the book follows with it.

or: kozume kenma and telekinesis doesn’t mix well together. neither does the idea that others all over japan are discovering their own hidden talents too.
Han’s Opinion: This is such a good fic like if you know me you shouldn’t even be surprised that a superpower fic is on here (considering my stellar track record) but this one is really good like it’s still getting started I’m sure but I love the attention to detail and the characterization and aaa
AO3 Link

Title: Worth It
Author: @keitaiga
Rating: Teen & Up
Pairings: Tsukkiyama
Words / Chapters: 3405 / Oneshot
Summary: they’re at different universities and their schedules rarely match up, but its all worth it in the end
Han’s Opinion: COME ON NOW you know it wouldn’t be a fic rec friday without a tsukkiyama fic and this one delivers like it’s in character but also cute! and hilarious! and you should all read it go
AO3 Link

So. Shall we go out onto the street, Easter my dear, and repeat the exercise? Find out how many passers-by know that their Easter festival takes its name from Eostre of the Dawn? Let’s see - I have it. We shall ask a hundred people. For every one that knows the truth, you may cut off one of my fingers, and when I run out of them, toes; for every twenty who don’t know you spend a night making love to me. And the odds are certainly in your favour here - this is San Francisco, after all. There are heathens and pagans and Wiccans aplenty on these precipitous streets.

Mr. Wednesday (to Easter), from American Gods by Neil Gailman

Horus and Easter by MMeridian (resurrection)

My idea of heaven is looking over to you in the driver’s side;
wearing that flannel hoodie I love to steal,
and your eyes burning a hole
through the windshield.
My idea of heaven is hydroplaning across the highway
listening to the blues like we are driving back in time;
a thunderstorm crashing it’s cymbals across the tree line,
and watching a flicker of heaven’s life reach down and touch ours.
The heater’s not working again, so we are wrapped up in blankets,
poking out our pointer fingers whenever we see lightning strike.
My idea of heaven has no idea where it’s going,
or when the rain stops.
It is so caught up in watching this moment happen,
knowing it is far too sacred to be missed.
—  Schuyler Peck, My Idea of Heaven
Love is Real

Those dark black eyes,

Ready swallow anyone in.

Those kissable soft rosy lips,
Through which hot breath leaves.

Those fair cheeks,
That always welcomes blood in praise.

Those chubby yet beautiful legs,
That carries you around with confidence.

Those long black locks of hair was mostly tangled,
Ready to be combed by my fingers till the ends.

That small squeak followed by embarrassment,
When sensitive places are poked.

You look pre-teen, are an actual young adult.
But your smartness is underappreciated

I am proud to have you as my girlfriend,
I love you.


Hi. My name is Cyndi, and I’m auditioning to be a flamingo because I fit the autism stereotype of assumes odd body postures. The top two photos are my flamingo stance. I only do it if I’m barefoot or wearing socks without shoes. I balance like that, I don’t lean on things.

Then my cat photobombed me, so I picked her up and took some shots with her. Her name is Monroe because the black speck of fur by her nose looks like Marilyn Monroe’s beauty mark. She is my fluffbaby. :)

PS I’m super in love with this striped shirt. I love the colors and it has sleeves that let me cover my hands until my fingers are all that pokes out. I think it looks cute because I have such tiny hands.

About A Girl

I think I’m going to be the very first person ever to drown in someone’s eyes and actually die. I can see it now in the Sunday paper, “Local Boy Shows How Love Can Kill and Why Everyone Should Avoid It.”

The thing is, I don’t want people to be afraid of love. The fact love can kill makes it even more desirable. The fact that my heart accelerates every single time she climbs up into my brain and pokes at it with her delicate fingers excites me. I almost want to tell her, “Hey, kill me, please. I want my love for you to kill me; it’d be an honor,” but that would just scare her.

I wonder how’d she feel if she knew I fantasized about her. I don’t think about her in a sexual way - I fantasize about waking up next to her on a Saturday morning and kissing her forehead ever so gently so she doesn’t wake up. I often think about going to the store with her and pushing her in the cart as if she were a small child. I dream about how she’d look walking down that flower covered aisle dressed in white. I spend hours looking at my ceiling picturing her in my arms. My arms are so lonely.

She is the creation of lilacs and roses with a hint of lust mixed with clay. She is the purest form of art. She is the type of girl people write Hallmark cards about. She is the type of girl single men try to find at their 35th high school reunion because they never stopped thinking about her. She is the cellist’s bow: without her, music will still play but God, with her it is heaven. I think she is heaven; maybe that’s why I’m no longer afraid to die.

Puddles - story by Tessa Gratton

I don’t know what made me do it.

The giant puddle was like every puddle: a hole in the world reflecting back light and sky. I’d always loved them, been fascinated by them. Wanted to close my eyes and leap through into that mirror world. As a child, I would skim my fingers along the surface, distorting the reflection, and then sit back to watch it slowly, slowly right itself.

Tiergan Fitch used to push me into them when he found me poking around his family land. He patrolled it on a red dirt bike, lording around like a knight on a stallion; I was the trespasser and thief. “Yo, Izzy, you like puddles so much, marry them,” he’d say, chin lifted. He’d raise the pine staff he always carried and charge. His bike would veer close and I’d lose footing only to tumble back into the water. As he peddled off, he zigged and zagged to smash through every single other puddle.

I thought he was a heathen who hated water. Everyone else thought he was just a bully, until we were in sixth grade and Juliet Banks decided he was beautiful. She looked up his name in a baby name book and told all of us, “It means strong willed, so of course he can be difficult.” Her lip gloss and eyeliner made her look older, and she started wearing real bras like the grown-ups wore, that she said her mama bought her at the mall. Soon all our friends were begging for push-ups and tinted lip gloss, and I was alone in my jeans and training bra thinking Tiergan was a dick.

It became a game. I’d creep into the woods after a rain, toes quiet in my sneakers, hair all pulled back to avoid snagging in the thin pine needles. The best puddles were along the hiking trails, since most of the forest floor was covered by years worth of soft, rotting needles and leaves. The air smelled better than peach cobbler, all clean and fresh and alive with rain, electricity, pine resin. If I was lucky, I’d find a boulder off the mountain, pocketed with tiny fresh water circles. I’d climb up and sit cross-legged in front of the best one, surrounded by cool, damp air and the pointed tips of the trees. Tiergan would have to get off his bike and come up on his own, get his hands all dirty against the rocks. He’d glare at me and reach down to scoop all the water out of my puddle.

Once when I’d just turned fifteen I yelled after him, “What’s wrong with you?”

His bike skidded to a halt and he didn’t look back. From my position on the boulder I could see the top of his head, the swirl of his cowlick. I didn’t think he was very pretty, like stupid Juliet Banks.

“My mother drowned in a puddle,” he finally said, before taking off.

Which I knew was a gee dee lie. His mama ran off with a professor from St. Mary’s. Everybody knew that.

I stopped playing our game. There were puddles in town, in my own backyard. But in town they got filmed over with oil, and that was all shiny and rainbowed, but you couldn’t see the other world in them, couldn’t imagine falling through to find your other self. And in my backyard, Daddy was too near.

At school, in the cafeteria, I caught Tiergan watching me from his table with the other Freshman who’d made the football team. Or rather, I caught him looking through me like I was as transparent as water. I flipped him off, which Juliet and Tabitha noticed. “Oh my God, Iz, what are you thinking! Does he like you? Oh my God!” They went on and on, while I stared at Tiergan Fitch, fluttering their hands and begging for the scoop on how we knew each other. I told them he pushed me into a puddle once when we were kids.

That afternoon it stormed so hard we all ended up in the school basement in case of microbursts. On the way home, I veered immediately into his woods and ran so hard down the hiking trail my footprints made fresh little puddles in the mud.

A half-mile in, a huge puddle – more like a tiny lake – cut across the track. I fell to my knees beside it, ignoring the cold mud that squished against my socks and the hem of my skirt. I froze. The surface of the water was perfect. Still as glass, and so wide I could see the whole gray sky with its leftover waves of clouds. The tips of pine trees poked against the edges like a ruffled border. I panted from my run and was overwhelmed by the scent of resin and rain.

I leaned over, and there I was: red-cheeked, hair falling out around my face, hands pressed to my chest where my heart beat a hundred times too fast.

Something under my reflection moved. Another face like mine, with huge round eyes. But no mouth. In its eyes were secrets. I darted out my hand to grab at it. Instead it grabbed my wrist and tugged.

I fell in, all of me collapsing into the water, and it was deep – oh, so deep. Tiny hands grasped at me, and I whirled around, not struggling. It was dark here, black like a cave, and the water clear and clean as rain. Light spilled down from overhead, from the puddle.

Eyes surrounded me. Each pair like tiny caves themselves. I couldn’t breathe, and the water was freezing. But I wasn’t afraid. Their secrets pressed at me, whispered through the rainwater, and I stared at them, at the hundreds, the thousands of them. I opened my mouth to reply, to tell them my own secret.

Water poured into my mouth. I jerked, flailing back, kicked for the surface, but they were above me now, too, with their huge eyes. My lungs spasmed, my stomach, my throat, all begging for air. I reached out, grasping with my hands, and the things slid smooth cheeks and cool fingers against me. I could hardly see them anymore, the weight of the water in my lungs and stomach dragging me down.

Something hard knocked into my shoulder. I grabbed at it. Rough wood. I circled my hands around it, and felt myself lifting up.

The creatures whispered their silent, rainy secrets after me, scratching my ears, but I clung to the wood and was pulled up, inch by inch, until my head broke the surface and hands tugged under my arms. My fingers dug at the mud and I coughed and choked, tears hot on my face. I rolled away from the puddle, puking out all the dark rainwater.

On my back, I opened my eyes. The sky was blue as the last of the clouds faded. Birdsong pinged and rang all around, and I could hear the slow drip of water off the pine needles.

And there was Tiergan Fitch, leaning against his staff with his mouth pinched and eyes worried. “The rain washes too many secrets away,” he said. “It isn’t good where they collect.”

He crouched beside me and helped me sit up. I didn’t even mind his warm hands on my back.


image by snowcat via flickr creative commons.

Terushima Yuuji - Love Letter


It’s ME! You’re wonderous and sexy af boy right here. I MISS YOUR GODDAMN FACE.

Like I know that you’re only away for like two weeks but fuck. It’s getting difficult. I miss you physically. Not in like sex way in like a I miss poking your face. Jabbing you in the side. Mushing your face. You touching my hair. Your breath touching my face when we hug. Your fingers tracing my collar bones or muscular physique. Touching your soft back, your luscious butt, the curve of your shoulder. Your tongue exploring mine. I could totally write letter sex. I really could.

ANYWAY. I love you. <3 Missing you tons right now. I really am. I mean even when I was like drawing a very intricate picture of a cat to give you, you thought I was being juvenile and drawing peniseses. Like how rude. The cat did have a massive dong, but like, it wasn’t the main point of it. So RUDE.

I love you tho. I love everything about you.

I dunno. I just feel a little bit sad, not gonna lie. Just being around you is really uplifting and I just feel so happy being with you. Not that I won’t be able to, I could totally survive. But I don’t really wanna, you feel me?

<3 I just hope you’re having a wonderful time, despite we’re probably texting each other.

I LOVE YOU! Xxxx Terishima Yuuji <3 <3 <3