The Feeling Runs In My Veins Like It Knows Those Rivers Better Than My Own Blood

Every night, both lips on the mirror

It's ritualistic, counting lipstick stains where you should be . . .

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Xandra | greek┆i also like men?!💔

i like creative things of all sorts, like art and lyrics too even if i cant make music myself

english isn’t my first language and even if i know it better than my mother tongue i will, in fact, use that as an excuse

about my writing . . .

masterlist ¡! i don’t trust my ability to write in anything but modern au,, but,, ⋮ will write smut at some point ⋮ requests my beloved 💓 i appreciate them so much and will try to do them to the best of my abilities ⋮ -

. . . thats all !

𝚃𝚘 𝚊 𝚗𝚎𝚠 𝚋𝚎𝚐𝚒𝚗𝚗𝚒𝚗𝚐 𝚠𝚒𝚝𝚑 𝚝𝚑𝚎 𝚜𝚊𝚖𝚎 𝚘𝚕𝚍 𝚏𝚎𝚎𝚕𝚒𝚗𝚐.

- B.E.

First request!!! Req by: @bilsluckyheart !! Thank you for your faith in me and i hope i didn’t disappoint <3

A/N: used one of my experiences and altered it some more!! Help!!

C/W: m*n mentioned, comphet implied, death mentioned (?), angst, hurt no comfort, no use of y/n, Billie referred to with her name instead of she once, hope i didn’t miss smt

Summary: You finally get a partner and as you said you didn’t care what they were like! You just wanted to not be alone. Is that what fulfils you? Is that what you expected to happen when you were finally “not alone?” Bet you didn’t expect to lose what you realised way too late was what you truly wanted there with you.

❀。 •*₊❀。 • *₊°。 ❀°· · ─ ·𖥸· ─ · · ❀。 • *₊°。 ❀° ❀。 •

A man, a man supposedly being your boyfriend but you can’t seem to help that you see him as a best friend more than anything. Sex feels rather like a playtime-pass time than intimacy - what’s supposed to be dates instead is like going out with your dad’s friend instead of your lover - being with him feels more suffocating than it does to be utterly alone.

Sick worried about your sexuality and cravings, controlling to the core. You needn’t have cut her off, did you? You didn’t like her like that, right?

Or was it just you being in denial? Have you thought how obvious it is when others hear how you talk to her, your tone, your blabbering, clinging onto every little detail ever just for the sake of a never-ending conversation. How your eyes light up the entire milky way the moment she looks your way, gives you attention, answers your texts, you you you in her mind you wanted it to be you.

And he saw that as a threat, his very own misery being contagiously inflicted to you, all in plain sight.

So many excuses for how he is- but you cant deny it. You don’t dare deny it, and you know it too.

The car rides you’d wish would lead to her, the friends you’d go out with you wished would include her, the indirect questions of his old friends in a flick of hope to hear about her.

She was never to be talked of again.

He broke up with you, why are you sad? Body shaking with devastation, tears running like real-life waterfalls, screams of a broken heart hope. You had only hoped you like him, you had only hoped you could convince yourself you like men, the way they like you. The closet shut so quick for the sake of being with someone for once, anyone.

It doesn’t take long until you realise you’re better without him, you aren’t miserable yourself, you were forced to be but yourself. The episodes and constant crying is over, your body has no one to reject anymore, so as the months go by, why do you still feel crashed?

Mind replaying the thoughts you had while dating him, how often you’d think of Billie, wish for her upon every shooting star, hoping your words would reach her under the same night sky.

You weren’t in love with her though? Right?

The times she’d laugh at your stupid jokes and you’d only grow warmer, all from inside out. The way she laughed at your idiotic jokes, eyes shut closed and uncontrollable irregular panting laughs, you felt your heart open up and flutter like a lotus. You weren’t breathing anymore - you were blooming.

Or how she would always react to you with a smile, no she wasn’t always happy, but she felt that way whenever you were in the picture.

You knew she wasn’t always happy, especially when you tried to contact her about a month after your breakup, after the breakup of probably the most pathetic relationship ever.

Her hometown being your own isn’t helping, with a new year of studies crawling in and summer days shortening she’s come to visit family and friends and you cant help but imagine every other girl she interacted with was you.

Stolen glances while passing by the street, yours were full head turns, trying to drink up as much of her as you can in that luck-pathed moment, whereas hers almost looked through you. Short and cold, like broken icicles used as daggers.

The eyes that once bent and twinkled with such a welcoming warmth you now find them leaving you breathless. The hands that once opened up like wings, fingers empty of their shiny rings, -something she always did knowing how the sensation makes you cringe unpleasantly- knowing she’s gonna see you, eager to be held by you contentedly, palms facing you with a silent request to hold them — now you see fallen, the only thing about them looking at you being the big shiny intimidating rings peeking from a fist.

The mud is dirty, the water is not the best. All kinds of things found around the pond taking a sip or a dip. But a lotus flower grows again tomorrow even cleaner than before. Why can’t she see it?

You a year ago today is nothing compared to you right now, you know what you are and what you want. So why is she suddenly scared to get wet? Why is every person attracted to the pond but her?

Everyone but the one you want.

The one person to bloom the lotus within you, the one to plant the lotus seed inside you, to keep it from rotting all along. She gave it life and left it with you to die.

Or at least you tell that yourself to feel better, better about the fact that you left her without a word and hoped for the best.

You hadn’t realised just how much time had passed, or that time had passed at all. Now out of your mind and back to your body, looking right at the entrance of a park, you hadn’t moved an inch since you looked back and was met with a killer gaze. The evening sky turning to yet another dark night. Were the nights always this cold?

You lean against the random buildings fence, state of shock unbothered. Your head tilts up as the breeze kisses past your features, thats when you realise your body has betrayed you yet again, wet cold teary cheeks.

Blink,, blink,,, blink… and you shot your eyes up ahead, the stars in the dark blue of the sky dancing along the hue of the endless horizon above and beyond, and for a moment you saw her eyes again, for a moment you saw her staring at you the way she used to. For a final moment before you felt your heart rip itself apart.

...

..

You had no outlet for your love to her, you didn’t have her. What was there to do with a feeling so tender that sucker punches your stomach the moment it sees the owner of it whole? A feeling that fights against your held back words and actions, trying to get out in any way, ends up finding that the only way out, is through.

There was no room for it. If you clung onto it, it would only destroy you.

𝐑𝐮𝐧 𝐚𝐰𝐚𝐲 𝐟𝐫𝐨𝐦 𝐡𝐨𝐦𝐞, 𝐜𝐨𝐦𝐞 𝐡𝐨𝐦𝐞.

- B.E.

AnoTHA ONE☝️ blurb leave me alone | again no use of names, just variations of “she” and “you”

A/n: did i get sad? Yes. Did i decide to make something out of it? Also yes. Is this projecting? Maybe.(Yes.) || I projected my tendency to literally run from home when i get too upset because i need to relieve my angrers energy into something thats not entirely destructive FHFEJJKS

i don’t know if this can be categorised as angst/comfort ?? But!!1!1!! (Its surrounded by comfort but whats comfort without the need for it)

Summary: You and Billie have been together long enough for her to see your vulnerable side, it didn’t take long to but it did take a lot of strength to. And this happens to be one of those times where you need nothing more in the world than to go home!

——･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ─: *.☽ .* :─ ･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ.——

A blurry road ahead, a big blob of blended colours and shapes danced to the sound of irregular nose-huffs. Forehead sweaty and a hefty backpack bouncing on your back.

You’ve gone this path countless times, by now you can go there blind. Your body remembers all the turns and miles. Like your body needs to reach the destination.

You hadn’t realised just how tiring running this whole thing was until she came in the view - until you saw that short, long haired woman standing right outside, waiting for you, the woman that always knows what you need.

Strict hard nose breaths soon turn into open mouthed pants, bouncing bag thrown to the ground somewhere, anywhere off you, and you finally let your rivers flow.

A melody of countless “i’m sorry”’s spilling out your mouth as soon as your body comes in touch with hers, pairs of hands holding the other body like their own lives depend on it, mutual emotion being held and shared in and through both bodies.

She’s seen you this way a number of times, she has not once thrown a rejection at your vulnerable emotions needs, but thats not enough for your overworking mind.

The lock of arms around your waist and up your back giving you a squeeze, shushing hushing noises coming to caress your ears - “shh its okay angel, its okay. I’m here with you, i am here for you.” - caring the same like a mother would to her child, or maybe a person who’s not quite full when their sweetheart isn’t.

Words that go in through your ears, and circulate along your insides as if made to soothe you whole, whats a painkiller better than love?

“I’m sorry.” you sighed with the loss of a last deep breath. Composing yourself to pull away, managing to turn your head to face her, face red like a tomato and makeup running all along.

“Its okay,” she gave a small chuckle looking back at you, an affectionate hand reaching out to hold your face. “I know.” A voice just above a whisper.

For a moment while you look into her eyes, you think you can almost feel them. Like your burning teary face can feel the breeze and like the darkening evening sky suddenly shines all its stars above her.

While you’re focused on her eyes you lose track of everything else - like the fact that your breathing is now calm, your shaking hands have turned gentle. She noticed those though, taking your hand in one of hers and your backpack in her other.

“So what do you wanna do?” ..

“Im feeling a movie”

“So movie night it is!”

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　　　.   　　˚　　 　　*　　 　　✦　　　.　　.　　　✦　˚ 　　　　 ˚　.˚　　　　　　.　　. 　 ˚　.　　　　 　　 　　　　

me n who..

U puppy 🩷

ohh meeting you formally might just be the highlight of my day.

i’d like to thank 🍓 anon for revealing that my girl is into arts, by the way. as am i. i think that makes us even more of a perfect pair, don’t you think? maybe they can be our eugene haha.

oh? we’re already onto music, are we? i suppose you’ve got me dead on with those lyrics. i surely hope that you do not die first in a horror movie, my love, unfortunately that would turn me heartless and i’d have to hurt whoever hurt you back.

and perhaps, perhaps. that’s a fair point, i suppose it’s only right that you ask. would you want me any other way?

no eugene and no characters other than us, but yes i am an artsy girl and im pleased but not surprised that you are too!

in a horror film i’d assume you’d be the one to kill me if im being honest, but since your intentions seem to be shifted elsewhere then maybe ill live, maybe

and you seem to be hooked already, your stalker behaviour should appal me but it doesn’t, somehow. i am getting impatient though, not sure how much longer i can keep up the show on stage before i close the curtains. ill be waiting for you backstage. the show has an afterparty too, you wouldn’t wanna miss it!

why hasn’t this been made yet

i did what had to be done 🫡

Hell yeah! I’m a big strawberry fan!!

I was just trying to predict your course or something I dunno. I usually get them spot on!

I was definitely feeling either psychology or art from you hehehe

- 🍓

oh you bet your ass i do art, alright!!

i cant imagine living in a world that isn’t consumed by creativity, it wouldn’t be me if not for art in every form

𝑺𝑻𝑨𝒀 𝑺𝑶𝑭𝑻,

𝑮𝑬𝑻 𝑬𝑨𝑻𝑬𝑵.

A/N: okay bear with me, this is a ‘poem’ (i don’t know what else to call it) that i wrote and when i read over it i realised some girls here would appreciate this imagery with their own infatuations, so whilst its not written like fan-fiction i felt generous enough to share it and i hope at least 1 of you will like it, best part is that you can picture any one of your favourite girls!!! Instead of a name i call the other character “Pretty”, so keep that in mind while reading, and again, this isn’t written like fan-fiction, but still i would appreciate it if you gave it a shot and told me what you think ♡

tags: lesbian only, think anyone!, femme!r, metaphors, suggestive, nsfw undertones but they are so slight and hidden beneath the wordplay that i can’t really count this as nsfw, sadomasochistic in a way, did i forget something? Let me know!

· · ─ ·𖥸· ─ · · ୧‿̩͙ ˖︵ ꕀ⠀ ♱⠀ ꕀ ︵˖ ‿̩͙୨ · · ─ ·𖥸· ─ · ·

I don’t want a cottage, i don’t want a life in simplicity and independency. I want a castle, i want an abandoned mansion adorned by vines hugging it long after solitude fell cold and loveless upon its very walls.

I want to hear the floors creak with every step, i want to hear the tremble of the floors effortlessly mirror the tremble of her legs, i want to have her, Pretty, and i want to keep her on her toes. I want, behind her gaze, to be as unpredictable as the grass around the mansion, a neglected ring of hues of green. Tall, short, eaten, rotten.

I want to give her the world, and i want to make her spin in the middle of it, i want to give her everything and make her feel like in a moment she could have nothing.

I want to make her dizzy and i want to make her euphoric, i want to see her scared and i want to hold her close, be the one to comfort her, Pretty.

I want our clothes to dance against each other when the weather drops and i take her out on walks, on the endless garden we’ve named ‘our hearts’ that no matter how long it’s been there for, untouched, unloved, uncared for, it just never seems to end.

I want her to let me tear her cotton fabrics apart and off, torn by grinding teeth and claw-like nails, hungry like a centuries-old vampire, lifetimes of self control and respect disintegrated in the very same time span Pretty’s clothes get ripped. Carefully laboured fabric, soft as freshly laved hair, made with the selfish, miserable thought of this granting them extra bread on their dinner plate.

And she would, she would let me tear her apart in one shared gaze. She would let me hold her and scratch her open, she would let me wound her because she knows i’ll be the one to heal her up again. And she knows i’ll do it before she can build the thought of asking me to.

She would let me darken her vision under the noon sun, heating and blinding. She would let me bruise her neck, violet splats trailing down her body like a rosemary. She would let me reach her depths and spin them around, it’d be nothing new to her, as long as her world is intertwined with mine she’s always spinning, she’s always dizzy. She would let me cradle her head as i treat her like fresh meat in aching, starved hands, because i’ve done so another hundred times, and each one she only seems more unwilted than the last.

Because she knows she’ll get me back.

Because she plans on making my darkest nights luminous, and she knows i’ll let her. The story is always the same; she unwraps me like a one-of-a-kind royal heirloom, her touches vigilant, precise on what she unfolds, what lies beneath her hands. And she knows i don’t fancy peace, her words forming clear juxtaposition to her touches, there are no blurred lines, my sense of touch and my sense of hearing are in two completely different words, and yet they co-exist in the pits of my stomach.

But like every child asking their parent to tell them a bedtime story, it doesn’t matter if its always the same, they always enjoy it the same. At the end of the day they fall asleep to it every time.

I’ll let her unwrap the lace off the corset, i’ll let her loosen every layer, watch the silks fall off my form, i’ll let her tell me the harshest things that leave my throat closing in on itself, as her hands soothe around my flesh getting me to ease up. She’ll rock me back and forth from being velvety to being cruel, i know it, and i will let her.

Because it takes two to dance, if you’re unable to match the other’s rhythm what’s the fun? It’s only enjoyable when you’re both having fun. 🫀

oh absolutely. i adore art, any form of it. drawing, writing, music, my loves! we’ll have to talk more about our shared interest.

and yes ma’am. nobody else but us then.

i would never kill you, my girl. wednesday would never hurt her enid, and i shall do the same.

and i apologise profusely, i will refrain from joking about the stalking part. looks like i’ll have to join you backstage then! will you welcome me in?

we definitely will talk more about our shared interest!! but i have pilates right now, so i’ll be gone for an hour, meaning that unfortunately, you have to miss me ;c

so yeah, i welcome you backstage, you just gotta give me the keys, i expect to open my phone to you after that hour ✧˖°

i’ve been recently realising that i’m bisexual, i need a cigarette and hard liquor for this