Holy Shit I Hit The 1k Mark And Didn’t Even Realise. You Guys Are All Bonkers I Started This To Just
Holy shit I hit the 1k mark and didn’t even realise. You guys are all bonkers I started this to just keep track of my prompts! Thank you very much!!! To celebrate, have a short story about how writers are awesome and different ways of seeing the world that none of you will probably read, but I hope those who do will enjoy it :)
How Beautiful the World Is
Andy had always admired writers. They were the only people who could manage to make the world sound so beautiful, he thought. The way that even beautiful things could be made more beautiful; the way every sunset blossomed on the clouds the way that sweet, wild clover blossoms in a meadow, hues from burnt orange flame to heather told in soft rolling verse, the way every field was a luscious bounty of daisies and sun-strengthened grass, and every sky was rolling blue like the foam and ice of breaking waves on the winter coast. They had a habit of making each detail wonderfully beautiful, filled with unparalleled splendour.
However, in all actuality, the world was rather dull. Grass was a limp, pitiful green, sunsets were often mild, mostly unnoticed, not worth being looked upon, the sky was grey, clouds floated gloomily like lost, empty ghosts, the night sky was just a dull, navy sort of blue.
Perhaps it was the cold sadness that hung over him that dampened the world into a flattened grey emptiness, an expanse of tarmac and concrete, weather stained and foot-beaten, lacking in any and all beauty, but perhaps books were just optimistic ways of helping children get through the day.
He could still accept that there were certain beauties to the world, there was no denying that, but often the bad outweighed the good. He remembered someone telling him once that everything was made from a pile of good things, and a pile of bad things, and the good didn’t always make the bad better, but the bad didn’t necessarily sour the good, but he thought that even that was being optimistic.
And then he met Jet.
Johnathan Charles Morrow. When he first heard of him, a transfer student who was arriving in a few days, Andy laughed at the name. They speculated as to who the kid was, weaving tall tales about some rich man’s son who had been pulled from some posh private school after his father had lost all of his money to a gambling addiction, or something else that the particularly high-end community would frown upon, who would turn up with an attitude that turned the world around him foul, and who's accent would be so incredulously opulent that it would be an immense source of entertainment for the rest of the time he was in their lives. How unbelievably wrong they were.
When he first arrived, there was one main surprise to him; Jet had had cancerous growths on both of his optical nerves, not that Andy had known that specifically at the time, and had been forced to have both eyes removed at a very young age. He was completely and utterly blind.
The kid had a wolfish grin that he wore on his face almost every second of the day, and accompanying it was a face that smiled with it, all the way from his chin to his hairline. The smile lines of his face stretched from the corners of his sightless eyes like the magnetic poles of the world he couldn’t see, casting shadows across the smooth golden skin of his cheeks. It was infectious. The joy that cascaded across his face leaked onto everyone and everything around him. It was impossible not to be drawn to him.
Andy first spoke to him on the second day he attended school. It was raining, the grey clouds hung like melancholy sorrows, and it was cold enough that his breath danced across the morning air, spinning like a dancer caught in a moment of time, but the air seemed to warm around Jet, around his resplendent smile.
They began to chat, talking about anything and everything, contrasting opinions giving way to arguments that usually would've angered Andy to the point of storming off, but instead it instilled an almost healthy sense of competition in him, and before he realised, Jet had become one of the best friends that Andy had. And then Jet was the best friend that Andy had.
Then one day, one boring, mundane, Thursday evening, as they were making their way down yet another generic suburban road, on their way back to Jet’s house, and Jet told him he thought the world was beautiful.
Andy was so taken aback that he stopped still where he stood, dead on his feet, and it took a few steps for Jet to realise he’d stopped walking. A crumpled look crossed his features like broken waves crashing over rocks. “How? How on earth can you say that? You can’t even see!”
There was the smile again, intoxicating as ever. “Sight is not what makes the world beautiful.”
“I beg to differ. What else is there beyond sight? Corruption? Pollution? People?”
Jet paused, a quizzical look polluting and distorting his smile, Andy felt a twinge of regret coil its way up his throat, which he swallowed back down again, but feeling a little bad for what he’d said.
“When the sun is shining, I feel the heat on my skin, the soft warmth that makes my skin tingle like I am being enveloped in kindness and love. That is beautiful. When I dip my fingers into crisp water, and I feel the brisk, omnipresent coolness, the relaxation of bracing water on your forehead that balances the sometimes stickiness of excessive heat, that is beautiful. I hear the birds chirping in the morning, whistling their own personal symphonies, singing at the top of their lungs, I am safe, I am awake, I am alive. I think that too, is beautiful. When I walk home from school with you and I hear mothers picking up their children from primary school, their children babbling about whatever it is that children find important at that age. That is beautiful.” He paused, putting a hand on Andy’s shoulder, shuffling his stick awkwardly under his other arm and smiling softly. “When I hear the cheerful voices of my friends in the morning, or their laughs, it reminds me that I am not, nor will I ever be, alone with any sadness that I have, and that, above all else is beautiful.”
“But you're never sad, you smile like every day is a celebration!”
Another conflict of emotion flickered across his face. “Just because you can't see something doesn’t mean it's not there. When you go to the seaside, you can't tell what lies in the depths by standing in the shallows.”
“But you're my best friend! You – I,” A strangled sound ripped itself from his lips and he stepped out of Jet’s grasp, letting his arms fall limply in the space between them. “I should know if you're unhappy, Jet.”
“Andy - I didn’t mean anything of it.”
“So, that smile, it's not really a smile?” He folded his arms across himself and rubbed a hand under his chin. “It's a mask? You – you're hiding behind it?”
“Not in the way you’re implying.”
“What’s that supposed to mean?”
Jet didn’t add anything to his previous comment, only turned his head away, sucking his teeth. He mumbled something under his breath that Andy didn’t catch and sighed. There was something bubbling beneath his usually calm composure, not quite irritation, but leaning in that direction, it was quite strange, Andy thought, to see such different mannerisms in his friend, and it made him almost uncomfortable.
Jet began to walk away. Andy had always admired that even though the boy lacked vision, he always went in the right direction, never into traffic, or off a pavement, he was surprisingly like a Canada goose in that respect, had an internal compass that was completely reliable, even more so that sight itself sometimes.
Andy rubbed his thumbs against his fists, but before he had a chance to retaliate in any way, Jet turned back around.
“You are stupid sometimes, you know that?”
“Hey-”
“Happiness only comes when you accept that there are some things that you can't change, I learned that a long time ago,” he gestured to his blackened glasses, “and one example of this is that you can never live in a state of complete happiness. There is no such thing as utopia, as heaven on earth, because there is always going to be something with the potential to ruin your mood, your day, or if you're really unlucky, your life.” Andy watched as he carefully removed his glasses, folded the arms and tucked them into his breast pocket. For the first time, he could see Jets prosthetic eyes, they were a rich hazel, like sun shining through a glass of whiskey, staring emptily at the ground in front of them.
“It all depends on whether you let the things ruin you. I have spent my life trying, desperately, to make sure that the things don’t ruin me, so I smile, and I look specifically for the good things about the world. Whereas you, you look for the sadness, and the grief, and the misery, that covers the world like a depressant, forcing everyone into a constant state of frustration that does nothing but make their life a misery, and then you wonder why you can't see the good in the world.”
“So yes, I think the world is beyond beautiful, and I understand that it is also an awful, awful place, but I choose not to dwell on that, because accepting your fate never gets anyone anywhere. You can't change the problems in the world if you’ve already given up. Life can be beautiful if you let it.”
Andy thought about this for a moment, dumbstruck by the fact that a sightless boy saw more beauty than him.
“And even then, not all beautiful things must be seen. Some beautiful things are the small nothingness that you hold close to your heart and make life worth living.”
Andy nodded, awe filtering through him like adrenaline, filling him up. “You’re right.”
Jet sniggered, that signature Cheshire grin splitting his face ear to ear, “I know.”
And maybe, just maybe, the sunset was just a little brighter that evening
More Posts from Winnie-zero and Others
perfect marriage
joe goldberg × amy dunne
"i'm the cunt who married you."
song: perfect girl by mureux
movie/show: gone girl + you
software: capcut
all rights reserved
because of his unacceptable behaviour, madara got suspended from this blog for 2 minutes.
I always thought I was different from Po-Wing. Turns out lonely people are all the same.
Happy Together (春光乍洩) (1997) dir. Wong Kar-wai
— Sue Zhao
imagine a “bimbo” gf with osamu and she’s just like “i’m not dumb i just act stupid to get fucked” cuz she’s such a slut xx
I hate that you literally described me- also this was supposed to be like 200 words max. I accidentally turned it into one whole fic. Not sorry tho (not proofread, I'm on vacation 😫😫)
If you want to see Osamu with a real bimbo, you can request that too!!
THIS POST IS NSFW! Minors do not interact or I'll bite.
For more haikyuu guys with bimbos, click here. If you want to be added in it's taglist, here's the form.
warnings: smut.
"So where's this new intern ya keep talkin' bout?" Atsumu's grinning ear to ear as he steps into his brother's shop, eyes roaming around to catch a glimpse of the new pretty intern that has his brother so passionate about his work all of a sudden.
"She's probably in the back," Osamu tells his brother, brows furrowing a bit since he keeps telling you to stay in front and always take orders instead of helping in the kitchen. You're a pretty little thing- he can't help but grin at the idea of making those short skirts you wear your uniform, you pull a lot of customers, too, and that pretty little head of yours isn't much of use as a cashier or in the kitchen.
As you spot your boss walking in the shop, Osamu can't help but laugh at the way you drop the plates you were just holding to run and greet him. "Osamu-san!" You smile at the man, your hands fitting the hem of your tight little skirt that doesn't leave much to the imagination. "Welcome!"
"Oh," Atsumu grins at his brother, it's no surprise a dumb little girl like you had his interest. Osamu was always rather into dumber girls. "So that's the reason you've been taking 30-minute showers lately, is it?"
"Shut yer trap."
Both twins watch you run across the room, clumsily running into things before you finally arrive to your boss' booth. "Osamu-san!" You chirp and fuck does he love it when you call him that. "Welcome!"
You're so effortlessly hot, it's as if every move of yours is calculated to rile the man up, always flashing him in the most inconveniently convenient ways, giving him boners he has to take care of in the bathroom almost every day at work. But Osamu knows well that can't be true, you're too dumb to think that ahead, aren't you?
"Mornin', Y/N." He shifts in his seat a bit when you lean against the table, your leg dangling right in front of his eyes and your skirt hiking up-
"Y-you- you look just like-" your eyes wide and mouth agape, your surprised gaze falls on the bottle blond next to Osamu.
"Yer boss?" Atsumu laughs at your expression, quirking a brow at you and winking. "I'm his future self, ya can say I'm better, as well."
"Shut it, idiot." Osamu gives the man a cold glare before turning back to you. "He's my twin."
"Ah," you nod dumbly, cluelessly, before looking back at the kitchen. "I think I have to go back to work now, but it was nice to meet you, Atsumu-san." You tell the man before hopping back off from the table, rushing to the kitchen as you sway your hips for both men to watch.
"She's cute." Atsumu comments at his brother watching you with an intent gaze. "Such a good actor, too."
"What?"
"She's lying." Atsumu raises his brows at his brother, pushing an Onigiri in his mouth. "When you play dumb all yer life, ya can tell too when someone's actin' dumb."
-
"Ya know, Atsumu told me somethin' rather interestin' today."
"Y-yeah?" You try to react, but the way Osamu's hands keep rubbing you over your panties has every word pulled from your mind, leaving you with no thought but his rough fingers. "What'd he say?"
"Hm," Osamu humms against your skin, his lips leaving dark marks on your neck and jaw, making you rock your hips on his fingers, "that ma dumb, pretty litt' intern isn't as dumb as she seems."
The way your body freezes under his touch, going limp with shock is enough answer for him, but he wants to hear it from you. His free hand tangles in your hair, pulling on it to make you whimper, as well as giving himself access to more of your pretty neck. "Is that true, doll? Do ya really have thoughts in that pretty head of yers?"
"I'm-" you lose your words when his lips latch on to your skin, teeth grazing the bruises he just made. His fingers that were pushing into you from over your panties cup your pussy, making you melt into his body, your back flush against his chest, your ass right on his cock.
"actin' dumb, 'that it? Like a little whore, givin' every men around ya a boner, acting so dumb, none suspects yer doin' it intentionally." Osamu laughs against your skin. "Ah, can't have you fooling everyone like that, can we now? Guess I'll have to fuck the thoughts out myself, then."
"Osamu-saan-" you whimper, wiggling your ass right on his cock pressing against you. "Osamu-san, fuck me already, please!"
"Fuck," he laughs behind you, making you squirm even more. His hand comes to graphic your tits, squeezing and kneading them and making your knees buckle. "Beggin' so pretty, so needy for some good fuck, is it?"
His free hand finally pushes his pants down, letting his cock spring free. You can't see it, but even the feeling of him hot and hard right beneath your pussy is enough to have you mewling for him.
"Always pressin' this pretty ass on me, bending in front of me to give me a show," He rubs the head of his cock on the entrance, teasing you with a laugh. "I always thought it was just 'cause yer a stupid, clueless little girl."
His hand comes down as a harsh slap on your ass, making you whimper and press your ass closer on his cock. "Turns out ya were just a fucking whore."
He finally, finally pushes himself in you, he's fucking huge- fucking the breath out of your lungs as he keeps trying to push himself in you, stretching you around him so much that tears well in your eyes. "Mmh, fuck- fuck!"
"Shh," Osamu groans behind you, his thumb circling your clit to make it easier for you, even though when he's not even halfway in you, you feel like you're full to the brim. "Yer takin' me so well, doing so good, doll, fu-ah-fuck."
"Such a slut, look how much yer stretching around me- relax baby, holy shit." You keep clamping down on him, his words making you feel dizzy, the stretch reducing you to a dumb little doll as he finally bottoms down. Mouth open, drool running down your chin, mixing with your tears. You whimper when he kisses your lips, his tongue tracing your gaping mouth and groaning when you moan.
"'s too big-" you cry, hands turning into little fists on the wall you're trying to get support from it. "You're too big, Osamu-san!"
"Fuck, look at you," Osamu pulls away, eyes half-open as he drinks your stupid expression in, laughing when you whimper as he gives you an experimental thrust, "maybe 'tsumu was wrong, maybe yer really just a dumb fucking slut."
"Please-"
"Come on, say it louder, doll." Osamu orders you, fingers squeezing your cheeks together and making your lips pucker, "beg for ma cock, beg some more, it's all yer good for, anyway."
"Nngh- please!"
"Good God," Osamu finally starts pushing himself in and out, a steady rhythm making it impossible for you to stay on your legs. "So fucking tight!"
"A wan'ed to do this for so long," he groans, "wanted to bend you over and fuck you to see if you could get any dumber. Maybe get you to a point where you can't even talk?" His hand grabs you by the chin, turning your face to meet his. "Think ya can do that? Be a good girl and let me fuck you dumb?"
"A-ah, yes, sir." You nod stupidly, not even sure to what, at this point. "Yeah?" Osamu laughs, well aware you're not taking a word he says, "good girl, what a dumb little whore for me, getting fucked by your boss in the back of the shop, not embarrassed if anyone can hear you, are you?"
You don't answer, your face smushed against the wall, drooling all over yourself as you can only try and stay sane at your boss splitting you open against the wall of the shop you intern.
"It's okay, sweet girl, ya don't gotta worry," he finally tells you, hips thrusting into you over and over, having you squirm around his cock, crying against the wall, "a won't let all your hard work go to waste, I'll make sure I'll fuck you well enough to have that dumb girl act become a reality."
How to __ and Other Writing Tips
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How to Write __:
How to Write Nightmares and Sleep Paralysis
How to Write a Monster
How to Write a Good Villain
How to Write a Panic Attack
How to Write Dialogue for a Stuttering Character
How to Write a Character with an Eating Disorder
How to Write a Character with a Prosthetic
How to Write a Character that has been Poisoned
How to Write an Unreliable Narrator
How to Describe __:
Different Ways to Describe Fear
How to Describe Facial Expressions
How to Describe a Character's Speech
How to Describe Emotionally Distant Parents
Other:
What to Do With Too Much Dialogue
Ways for Characters to Get to Know Each Other
X.O LN4
song: diet pepsi by addison rae
software: capcut
disclaimer: i do not own the song (but i did edit this) or any of the clips used. this is an original edit.
Kimetsu No Yaiba Yuukaku-hen Episode 09 Gifs
COLORING + SHARPENING GIF TUTORIAL
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