Virginia Woolf, From A Letter To Leonard Woolf, Featured In The Selected Letters Of Virginia Woolf

do you know about “looking for polaris” ? Can’t find it and it seemed similar to yours

That’s because it was mine from an old profile that I deleted. That’s why you can’t find it. I decided to edit it and put it on here.

~Kat 💜

—my flower, withered between pages two and three.

Weekend at grandma’s house…

Monsters in the Dark #21

Nightmares, ptsd, mentions of canon typical violence, dark themes, fem!reader.

@idaofinfinity @e-dubbc11 @rosaleenablack

x

You were drowsy that night, curled against Billy while he cleaned his ka-bar. You watched him, eyelids drooping. “How many people has Billy killed with that?” You asked, scooting closer.

“Too many to count.” Billy said, wiping the blade. He looked dangerous holding it, the way the blade gleamed in his hand. The casual way he handled it, and twirled it.

It excited you.

“I’m a monster.” Billy said, though not self deprecating at all. He sounded darkly amused.

“Billy’s my favorite monster.” You said, playing with his sweater, twirling a loose thread around your finger.

“Oh, baby. You’re my favorite angel.” He said, pinching your cheeks.

You giggled, before yawning halfway through your giggle. “Time for bed, sweet pea?” He asked, setting his knife down.

“Wanna be with you a little longer.” You said, yawning again.

Billy’s heart burned for you. You reminded him so much of the boy he was; sweet, trusting, loving. He remembered following his mother everywhere, to her annoyance, clinging to her clothes.

Billy wanted to protect your heart. Even from himself.

He kissed your forehead, watching you.

“Sometimes I dream that I’m in those woods again,” you said, “waiting for my mom. And if I look close enough the trees and the branches look like monsters in the dark.” You continued.

Billy listened quietly. It was the first time you had spoken of your nightmares.

“They pull on me, on my clothes, trying to drag me deeper into the woods, tearing at my skin. I always wait for God, but He never comes. But you know who does?” You asked, looking up at him.

Billy swallowed.

“Billy. Billy comes. And I always take his bloody hand, and we go away, away into the darkness. And then, I’m finally safe in his arms.” You said, softly.

Billy crushed you to him, and tucked you under his chin, and his treacherous heart blazed.

You both sat like that for some time, enjoying each other’s company, feeling full there.

There was never going to be a time that Billy wouldn’t come for you.

Tutus.

+roommate au, fluff, possessive behavior, reader is ADHD coded, kissing, fem!reader+

I realized I had described a Calvin Klein cologne that did not exist, so I did more research into what some of them smell like. My apologies.

Monsters in the Dark Masterlist.

&&&&

He fisted your hair, “Asked you a question, sweet pea.” You had been distracted by how good he smelled, like something spicy, his cologne probably. It was entirely Billy.

His new roommate was always distracted, however. His fingers tightened in your hair, wanting to make you his, to kiss you in a way that left no room for question on who you belonged to.

He was taken with you almost violently. By your tenderness.

You raised your eyes to his, so rarely you gave eye contact to people. You didn’t like them looking into your soul, and you didn’t like looking into theirs. You always ended up focusing on the whites of their eyes, or maybe if that person had a god complex, or if they were thinking about touching you. People liked to approach you, and touch you without asking.

But you gave Billy eye contact, always drawn into his dark gaze that stripped you down. He was the only person who could touch you, too, besides Curtis. They made you feel safe, the only two who didn’t make you feel like ripping your skin off. “Huh?” You asked, tilting your head.

He laughed, “Text me when you get home from Curtis, okay?”

You looked at him sheepishly, “You smell good,” you said, leaning closer.

“Calvin Klein.” He answered, as you sniffed his neck.

“Can I wear some?” You asked sweetly.

“Men's cologne?” He raised an eyebrow, fingers still tangled in your hair.

“Mhm. Wanna smell like you.” You hummed, eyes hooded.

“Sure, sweet pea.”

You didn’t answer his previous question, kissing him instead. But you’d been kissing him ever since he’d come home with your favorite tea last week. Apparently the way to your heart was tea.

He smiled into your mouth, unable to resist your want of him.

Monsters in the Dark #14

—attempted assault, blood, canon typical violence, mentions of an attempt of reader’s life, trauma, flashbacks, ptsd, fem!reader—

@idaofinfinity @e-dubbc11 @rosaleenablack

You were terrified as you hid in Billy’s closet, listening to them ransack the penthouse, your hands over your ears.

Memories resurfaced of you hiding in the woods, bloody and afraid, waiting for your mother who never came.

Your father had taken her from you.

You were shaking when one of them opened the door, finding you crouching amongst Billy’s clothes and shoes.

“What do we have here?” He said roughly, grinning and grabbing your arm and yanking you out.

You tried to claw at his face, trying to get away, screaming. He slapped you so hard your head turned, and your heart raced.

You were going to die or worse.

x

He had you pinned on the bed, pawing at you. You had tried kicking him several times, but he hit you twice. “Be good, girlie. You might even enjoy it.” He gave you a sinister smile.

“If you have to force women into bed, you can’t be that good!” You sassed him.

He backhanded you again. You were sure you’d bruise tomorrow; “Watch your mouth,” he growled, ripping your shirt open, making buttons fly. “Need to teach you a lesson in respect.”

You spat on his face, as Billy stormed in looking furious. You felt relief swell in your chest. The intruder let go of you, seeing Billy covered in his comrades blood. He looked like a god of war, covered in his enemies blood, fury written across his face.

Billy struck as fast as a snake, slicing your attacker's throat with his hidden blade, over and over again, until bone and sinew showed, and his blade stuck out of his neck at an odd angle. The intruder gurgled over you, spraying you with blood, holding his throat before collapsing on the bed next to you.

x

Billy hummed, watching you reach for his face, wiping the blood off his lip with your fingers, almost mesmerized by him and his violent visage, her eyes dilated. Aroused by his killing of another.

It aroused him. God, you were perfect for him, he thought.

His face no longer held the fury at someone touching you. He looked gentle now.

Like your mother when she shot her husband, and then turned to you. A fierce warrior turned gentle caretaker.

Images churned in your head, the sounds of Chopin, the smell of freshly baked apple pie, a pristine white piano splattered with blood, and your mother wiping your face.

“Mama wiped my face,” you said suddenly, voice soft. You’ve told him before, but it felt good to talk about it.

Billy looked at you, obsidian eyes warm. “I was playing Prelude in A Major, op. 28 no. 7. Chopin. I missed a note. Daddy was angry.” You recalled, trembling.

Billy lips brushed your head, “You could play for me, if you wanted.” He said. There’s a piano in the penthouse. You’d always looked at it longingly, but fear always took over. What if you missed a note?

You shook, fear at missing a note taking over again, and even though you knew Billy would never hurt you like your father; you were still afraid. “Don’t want to.” You mumble into his chest, clutching his dress shirt in your hands, noticing specks of blood on it.

Billy hummed, “When you’re ready then, baby.” He fixed your hair, tucking it behind your ear. The same hands that have shed blood violently, treated you like you’re porcelain. Treasured.

You wanted him to know he was treasured too, but the words don’t come; words had always been difficult for you.

He set the cloth aside, helping you out of your bloody clothes, and handing you one of his t-shirts. You sniffed it. It smelled delightfully like Billy, you couldn’t put your finger on what the scent was, probably his detergent, but it was comforting.

You laid with him that night after his men cleaned the mess up, his touch grounding you as he stroked your spine. “I hope we can be together forever.” You mumbled sleepily, fingers playing with the scar on his hip. You couldn’t stand the thought of losing Billy, you’d lost so much.

Your fingers dug into his hips, as if by might you could keep him by your side. That by your own power he’d never disappear if you just held onto him tightly enough.

Billy held you tighter, too.

If Billy had his say, you would be together forever, even if he had to drag you down to the underworld with him, like Hades took Persephone.

His grip on you tightened further.

Forever.

christian dior haute couture f/w 2005

“he’s killed people” ok but have you considered that he did it in a hot pathetic way.

Hey all, a little update—

My mom passed. She’d had Covid been cleared and then home. Two and a half weeks later, she’s gone. I woke up to find her cold and unresponsive.

But I’m probably gonna keep writing as a comfort to me. But I don’t know how often. I might just share random thoughts and posts.

I’m just really sad right now.

@e-dubbc11 @terry2227 @imagine-a-fictional-boyfriend @bookloverfilmoholic @snowkestrel @kayhi808 @aoi-targaryen @firexfate @ittybxttykxttytxtty

So… the hubby did a thing 🥰🥰🥰

Hee 💕 @munsonownsmyass @k-marzolf @kayhi808 @imagine-a-fictional-boyfriend @iamgettingalife @e-dubbc11 @dreamlandcreations

Hope this wasn’t creepy! I just loved how everyone’s piccrew icons turned out ☺️

PS Only a mockup. Vertigo logo used for illustration purposes only 😅