Imagining Trying To Explain To My 12-year-old Self That John Green Is Your Favorite Non-fiction Author

TAYLOR SWIFT; EVERYBODY!

"MIDNIGHTS"

VIGILANTE SHIT;

I literally died here! This was breathtaking and beautiful, no more words. Taylor's an absolute genius. Not just the lyrics, but the feel of the song itself!

KARMA;

QUESTIONS;

"Fucking politics and gender roles" , yeah Taylor, we all hate being limited by them when we converse. We all fear how will we be percieve of we don't deliver the norm when we open our mouths or exist even, in public.

VIGILANTE SHIT;

"Lately I've been dressing for revenge"

ANTI-HERO; OFFICIAL VIDEO;

The look✨

I am eternally, devastatingly romantic, and I thought people would see it because 'romantic' doesn't mean 'sugary.' It's dark and tormented — the furor of passion, the despair of an idealism that you can't attain.

— Catherine Breillat

@academia-lucifer

Hello world

I hate these days but here I am, living 'em again; inescapable reality....

What do you do when you don't feel like a person anymore? When all you feel like is an extension to everybody else's life? I like being needed most of the times, but I absolutely hate it in moments when I stop feeling like a fucking valid person anymore, when being needed absolutely fucks up with my personal progress, be it academic, psychological, physical or emotional. When people who need my help feel entitled to it and I feel too exhausted to even defend myself on that stand, when all I want to do is cry about it.

I’ve got to stop acting like I’m on holiday💀

Main pairing: Will Graham × female reader

Summary: Will plans to escape federal custody to gather evidence to prove his innocence but he needs help, more importantly he needs you. So much so, that you don't get to decide if you want to come with him or not.

Warnings: Smut, 18+, mentions of murder, psychiatric facilities and breaking law.

Writer's note: Just a little dark fluff cause I had to write something on Will Graham!

Please don't repost/edit/ blog this story. Do NOT copy my work. Feel free to like, comment and reblog.

The intimacy knowing his mind provided, even a year in his bed couldn't. You do regret not being able to smell him though; the glass between you both hindering the magnificence of his husk, woody smell. He hates it, staying within a place where every day someone's trying to get into his head. And so do you. No matter what they say, you believe Will couldn't have possibly killed them. And it isn't blind belief in him but rather the confidence in your convictions to know his mind.

He doesn't ask it out loud, but his eyes beg you to not judge him- not for the things he says he didn't do. And maybe he knows you believe him to some extents because you're the only psychiatrist he asked for and talks to. You've visited Hannibal too. While you respect the man for his intellect, he has a peculiar aura about him. His charm, insight, love for refined taste in lifestyle and literature- his perfection. It strikes you as odd. You don't believe every accusation Will tossed at the doctor but you do believe it has some truth to it- some story.

It's cold and gloomy to walk in these halls. But you can't really complain, after all it is a psychiatric facility. Your heart beats loud at the prospect of seeing him again.

It was a shock sure- when you recieved word from Dr Chilton that Will Graham requested you to be his psychiatrist and if you're being honest, then probably more shocking than Will getting convicted. Afterall, it's been two years since you last saw Graham. The sessions have been interesting although.

He's already staring at you while you climb down the stairs. His intense stare makes your heart pump faster but you keep your face neutral.

"Hello, Will."

"Dr. L/N."

"How do you feel this morning?"

"Bitter. A little annoying too, possibly. Did you talk to Dr. Chilton about the concept of privacy?"

"He denied your claims.", then offering him a little smirk I mention, "Hoping that he'd stop monitoring our conversations as a professional courtesy or even moral obligation is too much in his case. So, I believe he's still listening in."

Will chuckles and a familiar softness enters his gaze for a moment, reminding you of the times you used to live together.

"Of course, Doctor."

Before your blank mask cracks you push the conversation into safer territory.

"They told me you'd be taken into federal custody this coming Monday?"

"Yes, doc. They denied my plea for insanity."

You observe his face for any clues and you find something you wish you didn't. He can see the moment of clarity, the moment you realise why he's fine with the idea of going to prison for crimes he never claimed as his own despite the evidence against him and he smiles.

You have known for a while that he was leaning towards manipulation. Baiting fish with baits he had never revealed before, you knew for a while that his desperation for someone to believe him, combined with his resentment for the doctor was changing him. But you were sympathetic, you felt it in you that he didn't do it. But now, you're conflicted.

You can't stay quiet. But you have no evidence to support your claim either. Not like you'd give him up just like that. Somewhere within, you know you can't really help him, not with what he really needs the help. It's not his mind that's the issue, it never was. He always has been a man aware of every crook and cranny of his own mind. He was either being framed or he commited every crime in complete concious, but knowing Will like you did, you knew it was the former.

"Will. I would ask you to rethink over your subjective decisions once again."

"I take objectivity in consideration just as much as subjectivity while deciding, doctor. I'm okay with it. Atleast I won't be listened in on every damn second."

His tone is filled with conviction. You know you can't change his mind. Before you can say anything he slowly brings his fingers outside the bars, giving you time to decide if you want to move forward or not. You do. You cover the steps to the bars and reach with your own hand. Shudders go through your hand the moment they touch his.

"Why did you come, Y/N? We don't have any session anymore, doctor?"

"I-", looking at his face you know why you came, "I know you didn't do this. I wish I could help, but what I can give doesn't seem enough."

Shouts ring from the other end of the hallway, telling you to step back. Looking in his eyes, beautiful blue, you tell him one last thing.

"I know. And I understand."

You know he knows what you were talking about the moment his eyes show warmth and turn glassy.

They escort you out of the hall and you leave willingly, still reeling from the intensity of possibly your last encounter with the man you have loved for so long.

Spending the rest of the week with a restless energy because of knowledge you weren't supposed to have irks you. But you worry if he'll be okay? Or if he'll make matters worse if he failed?

Monday is filled with appointments and sessions for you, leaving you too busy to think of Will. The thought creeps out often from the back of your mind but you push it back nonetheless. He will be okay. It's his business anyway, who can say you had any idea of his potential escape anyway. You weren't his psychiatrist anymore, nor are you his lover. You don't need to worry.

Deciding to spend your lunch hours at home, looking over your garden- you drive home. It's quiet here, like usual. Your fingers tremble from time to time when you think of Will, hoping to whatever god that listens that he is atleast alive and okay.

Walking in through your door, you drop you keys on the counter top, taking off your heels. So lost in your thoughts that you miss his smell as he creeps behind you. Freezing when you hear a gun being cocked, you turn around slowly.

"Will."

If it's a plea or relief, you can't tell yourself.

"Well atleast you escaped successfully. What ar-"

"Why didn't you tell anyone?"

"Who'd have believed me?", you scoff to sound believable.

"Jack would've.", his eyes stare you down as if commanding you to tell him the truth. He knows it but he wants to hear you say it. You can see it in his lost eyes.

"I know you're not a killer. I knew escaping was your only option.", looking at his disappointed eyes you can't help but whisper the remaining truth, "And I still care about you, Will."

"Baby-", his eyes water at your admission. The hidden pain all bubbling up to surface. And your heart aches seeing his beautiful face contorted in such a painful expression.

You push his gun aside and bring your hands on his head to bring it to yours. Taking his hand, you both sit on your couch and you tuck his head in your chest as he sobs quietly for all he's gone through the past months.

Minutes later, he's kissing you with a mix of desire and desperation and you comply fervently. Kissing and tasting him like this feels so intimate yet familiar at once, like old times but much more intensified because of the renewed passion and intellectual intimacy. Your conversations with Will these past months have brought you closer to him in a way you never were with him when you two actually dated.

Tugging his hair, you moan into his mouth as he rakes his hand firmly through your hair, down to your breasts. Pressing them firmly but torturously slow he moves you into his lap. Grinding into his lap, you throw your head back as he sucks your chest through your blouse. His pants grow hotter and his grip on your hips tighter as you keep grinding down his covered length faster.

A shrill ring cuts through the lusty fog you both are lost into. You realise it's your phone. Sighing as you peel yourself from his lap while he stares at you with barely controlled desire, you retreat to your discarded handbag.

Taking out your phone, you look at him in panic.

"It's Jack. They know you've escaped. Go! Leave, Will-"

"You don't really believe I just came to ask you a question, do you?"

Realising what he's implying you stare at him in shock.

"Will, No. I can't come. Yo-"

"It isn't a choice, baby.", he slowly picks up his gun as he stands up to walk to me, "I need help and you are the only one who's willing to believe. And after what just happened, there's not just only one reason to bring you with me anymore. You're coming with me."

You sigh in defeat when you see how serious he is. It might take a long while to change his mind. But it seems he knows you'd fight back because next you know he's knocking you on the back of your skull and everything turns black.

Pairing: Ransom × female reader

Character taken from: Knives out

Summary: Ransom is an asshole and you can't be kind to him at all for some reason. You've dealt with arrogant people for a good part of your life. But he just make you loose your cool from your fiery personality- not that there was much to start with. And...you finally find out just what makes him shut up.

Warning: Smut, swearing, a little immoral (but hey, as long as it gets u off), illicit mentions.

Please do not blog or repost. Do NOT copy my work. Please reblog, like and comment as you read.

Ransom has always been an asshole; angry and entitled, so much so that he almost ended up in jail. Technically, he did end up in jail, he just never reached there. Accidental swerving of the federal car and his disappearing right after the crash was all just a lovely coincidence- or so the feds think, maybe they won't use the word lovely though.

Settling in when he had no money or taste for cheap stuff was hell, correction- it's still hell. He'll just have to wait it out, maybe Marta will just die. Infact given his family's behaviour she will die anyway and so would her immediate family- just to make sure, it just won't be accidental. Then he can return for his cut, liquidify his assets, get his Beemer back and come live in Europe the life he likes.

Solid plan. Except he can't help but feel like killing certain someone here too and gods help him, very intimately. His bare hands, if he can use them. The woman across his pathetic apartment- if it can even be called one, is a bloody nightmare. A very fuckable nightmare but hells he can't handle her. A fuckable nightmare that is walking right towards him.

You are irritated beyond limits, this asshole has been living across you for over a month and has done everything in his power to burn and boil your blood whenever possible which for him is apparently 24×7.

"Did you really throw coffee in my mail box, you bloody cunt?"

"Now don't go calling me names, sweetheart. People might start seeing just how much you're into me-"

"You slimy motherfucker. I swear to god, Randall-"

With a frown he corrects you by interrupting and inserting, "Ransom, it's Ransom darling. Not like you don't know it."

"Oh, Go fuck yourself Ronny."

"Woman, really! You pull shit like this and then ask why did I throw coffe in your-"

"What do you mean 'shit like this'- not pronouncing your name right, because I don't fucking know it?! "

"I literally JUST told you!"

"STOP YELLING YOU TWO BLOODY YOUNGLINGS!"

Scared shitless of the new voice reaching your ears you turn towards Ms Robinson standing outside her apartment, holding a fork very tightly.

"Go away, you old hag-"

Your eyes widen as Ransom being Ransom deals with situation in the worst style.

"Now liste' here, you goo' for nothin' douche bag, shut up and fuck off. You ruining my Saturday. I hear yelling again and I'll lighta yo ass and yo' home on fire."

You burst out laughing the moment the hurricane of a woman leaves the hallway. Ransom changes his shock into a scowl as he looks at you.

"Everybody knows not to mess with that woman. Where's have been living? Oh god, that was fucking funny, shit!"

You shriek when Ransom grabs your hair and pulls your back into his chest by your hair.

"I've been living right here, arguing my head off with another woman of somewhat similiar temperament. You wanna laugh some more sweetheart?"

His smug tone fires up your temper and you headbutt him into his shoulder, cursing he leaves your hair giving you the space to turn and slap him, hard.

Silence and tense suffocate you as you prepare mentally for his reaction. This has gone too far anyways. But hells you couldn't have prepared for that.

Ransom pulls you by the hair and kisses you harshly. You can't make sense of anything but the fact that you want to kiss him back just as hard, so you do. You rip his jumper off of his shoulder right there in the hallway and he tears off your sleeves. Pulling his hair, you drag him in more and bite his lip. Ransom moans and grabs your hips tight enough to bruise.

This doesn't feel like sex, it feels like much, much, much more fucking intense. It's consuming you both. Suddenly, a sliver of doubt creeps in from somewhere. This is bloody Ransom. And he hates you like you hate him. Coming to your senses, you try to push Ransom off. It doesn't move him a bit but he stops and steps back. Breathing heavily, both of you panting from sexual tension, minimal control and hormones look at each other.

"Do you want to stop, darling?"

There is that word again. Bloody names, but he calls you all of them just to mock you, right? How is he not thinking anything but about sex right now. Does he even give a fuck who he's sleeping with? Of course, not. He'll fuck you just like he fucks every other girl he brings over. But they don't have to live across him, none of them do. So they'll be fine, you won't though.

Sighing, you hug yourself with your arms and nod.

"Yeah, let's not do something this stupid. It was a mistake.", Just to appear nonchalant you add, " and don't pour fucking coffee in my mail box again for fuck's sake, Ransom."

Trying your best to appear indifferent under his intense and curious gaze you walk back to your apartment calmly and lock the door.

Now you want to fuck him too before you kill him, great! But what's the harm ? You can fuck him, what gives? Not like he will act any different, you can do that too. You both will fight like petty idiots but it'll probably end up in good sex atleast. What's the loss?

You open your door to go knock on his while you still have your courage but his smug smile and broad shoulders flare up your temper and take your breath away at the same time.

"I knew you'd come, darling. You just can't avoid playing with fire, can you? Can't admit that you I affect you at all, except your obvious attraction which you never shy of. Leaving no weakness in the open."

"What? You my social worker now?"

Ransom laughs but looks at you with pure hunger, just like you very much are looking at him.

"No darling, I just wanna fuck you. You?"

"Same, darling. I just wanna fuck you too."

"You! Hells."

Still laughing, he takes lengthy strides and pulls you in by the neck for another bruising kiss. You don't disappoint either and pull his hair just like you did a minute before. Kissing and biting softly you both stumble to your apartment shutting the door after.

Before you can break off to take your top off, he rips it off.

Oh, so this is how we're playing.

Without hesitation, you tear his t-shirt off backed by your aderaline flow. Moaning and kissing, your hands roam over his chest and abs as you push him inside your bedroom.

"Bed, now."

"Ordering me around, sweetheart?"

"You want me to grab a condom or not? Don't be sarcastic cunt everytime you open your mouth."

"Oh, I'm opening this mouth for your sarcastic cunt tonight. And I doubt you have a condom my size."

"Cocky, are we?"

He smirks and says, "Literally. Check my pants if you doubt."

"Lying doesn-, holy sh-" , he is huge in a I'll-fill-you-just-the-right-size.

Breathing a long one, you say, "Okay, I'm clean and on pill. You?"

"Clean. You sure you want me to fuck you bare?"

Calming your jitters, you fire back, "Who says you're the one fucking?"

"Oh darling, there's no doubt."

Before he can move you grab him the hair and kiss him with tongue. Pushing him on the bed, you straddle him and grind down his length slowly. He breathes out harshly, grabbing your hips and flipping you on your back.

Kissing, biting, nipping, he covers your shoulders and chest and then reaches your glistening pussy.

"Your sarcastic pussy ready, darling?"

"If you don't drop your asshole attitude for a minute, I swear I will tie you to the bed and and ride you till I come but leave you unfinis- oh fuc!"

"Ever tire of threatning people, babe?"

"Fuck y- Ahh, oh godddd."

You back arches off the bed as he licks with no reserves. His lengthy and forceful stokes are making your toes curl as you softly curse grabbing his hair. This whole thing is so intense that you can't think beyond this bloody pleasure. And when you feel so close, you can't help but beg.

"Ransom, please. I'm close! Oh god, yes, there!"

Your breathing turns harsh as your toes dig into the matteress and your back arches higher but Ransom holds down your hips by your thighs, intensifying the pleasure and you come so hard that you're trembling with sheer pleasure.

"No more threats, love?"

So out of it all, that you don't even notice the sliver of gentleness in his tone or his words. Opening your eyes you stare at him and you tell him the first thing that pops in your head.

"Fuck you."

He laughs and shakes his head at your choice of curse.

"Ironically, you are."

"I thought you were the one going to fuck."

He raises an eyebrow still laughing, " You never step back from having the last word, do you?"

"And you clearly like to hear yourself talk, now lay down and let me ride you."

"Oh, we still debating tha-"

Without waiting for him to complete, you kick his shin lightly and push his chest hard enough to send him on his back while he's distracting speaking. Straddling him again, you take his cock in your hands and pump him firmly.

"No, no debate. I am riding you, babe."

You both moan as his cock enters your soaked pussy. Bracing your hands on his thighs, you start moving rhythmically. Panting, moaning, cursing you both move against each other, sweat covering your bodies and tension climbing your veins.

He touches your clit, massaging it slowly, making your eyes roll in the back of your head as you ride him faster and harder. As you explode, you grip his neck softly, clenching your walls around his cock as tight as you can as you bend down to bite his earlobe. He growls and flips you over in a second and slams into your pussy hard and rough. You moan out loud as he streches out your orgasm, still shivering, as he pumps into you chasing his release, you bite his shoulder as you feel him pulse. He comes within a second.

You both catch your breath as he kisses your forehead.

Yeah, sex definitely isn't a bad way to end fight.

slaughter-house five - kurt vonnegut / orpheus and eurydice - catharine adelaide sparkes / user sawasawako / orpheus mourning the death of eurydice - ary scheffer / metamorphoses - ovid / orpheus and euridice - enrico scuri / talk - hozier / orpheus and eurydice - michel martin drolling

Poem Bangkok ‘Magical Duality’ fall 2022 

"What if I told you I'mma mastermind?"

"It was all by design; cause I'mma mastermind"