#Im such a seasonal person like every few months I feel like I’ve forgotten who I am and rediscovered myself but it’s always just cyclical

[rowanhoney]

as much as I haaaaate the cold in autumn I feel more in tune w my alter ego vibe of Cat Burglar I’m like oooo yeah I’m so cool

#hope this continues long enough for me to develop that aspect of myself #cos it feels very very much me. #I need to establish like what that means to me #Im such a seasonal person like every few months I feel like I’ve forgotten who I am and rediscovered myself but it’s always just cyclical #it is so so silly. anyway

[lexa-griffins]

I wish they had two options. I prefer binging shows. I forget a lot of things when I have to watch on a weekly basis. And shows who release weekly tend to take longer hiatus in the middle too. There’s less continuity. Show’s that release weekly also tend to try and make more episodes. So instead of the 10 episode formula there’s 20-25 episodes and to me that’s too long. Again, there’s more room for continuity errors.

To me, it’s more enjoyable when I can binge a 10-15 ep show in my own time. But I know that’s an unpopular opinion to have. So I wish there were two options. To binge or to not binge. I can always blacklist a tag until I’m able to watch the show. But I can’t keep up when I’ve gotta watch one episode and wait possibly one to four weeks later (depending on if there’s a hiatus or not) until I can see the next episode.

You technically have the two options. If I wanted to watch one episode a week or you want to wait until a season or a show is over to watch it all in one go, that's possible. But it's still not the same^tm for me.

I love the community in fandoms that's built around the collective watching of one episode and the excitement for the next one. I love finishing an episode and the next day waking up and rewatching specific scenes on youtube or if the episode is available already to go an re-watch it. Seeing the same scene re-gifted over and over again because everyone is so excited about it. To me continuity errors are like... minimal detail? Unless it's something obviously big and that affects the narrative and especially if the show has been running for some time, it's almost inevitable unless the show runners are really careful with those.

To give the an example with first kill - I was really excited to watch it. And then it came out - i had no idea it would come out that day - i already knew the beginning, middle and end of it by the end of the day and it wasn't long before we learned it was canceled. And I still haven't watched it because of that and while I still want to im in no rush at this point and by the time I do the fandom will probably be almost dead.

Everyone has different preferences when it comes to this but as someone who cannot keep up to date with things for the life of me, i end up not watching a lot of stuff because everything is consumed, talked about and forgotten in the span of few weeks to a month. I'm in the rwby fandom and we've been on a hiatus of the series going on 2 years now and i still go back to watch episodes and there's always content being made for it. I love the weekly liveblogs and the incoherent posts after every episode it, makes the fandom feel so alive and interactive to me, since fandom and the community around a show is a big reason of why I enjoy watching stuff. I wasn't raised on american shows and weekly updates really, I was raised with portuguese and brazillian telenovelas with daily episodes on week days where you'd go to school and talk about it and if you missed an episode you couldn't watch it anywhere (not until maybe a year later when it would repeat in the afternoon instead of after dinner) so you had to listen to it being re-told to you by the ones who watched it so you could watch the next one. I can barely discuss a show even in person because one friend hasn't seen it, another one is saving it for later, another one has finished and I might be taking it slow.

If I watch 10 episodes in one day then sure, I won't forget what happens from one episode to another but in a month's time I won't remember the show at all!

#letter opened #i hope this doesnt sound like im trying to fight you anon im not #everyone allowed to watch the shows how they want to watch

[total-ass]

leonard does not deserve nearly the amount of hate that he gets. i’m tired of seeing leonard slander every day in the tag, i’m tired of seeing my king in the bottom of every tier list. i’ve seen him put below characters like amy and beth and stephanie who literally ruined every scene they were in. on what planet is leonard worse then an abuser or a fujoshi?

leonard has a lot of great things about him. for starters he’s one of the few nerdy characters that’s doesn’t wear glasses which is important...in a way. this fandom has an apparent “thing” for nerds with characters like noah and cody and harold and being popular. and yet, canonically nerdy characters like sam or leonard get little to no appreciation. it’s like this fandoms only interpretation of a nerd is conventionally attractive/white/skinny person oh, so you like nerds so much until they don’t look like they’re straight out of a tiktok house?

people say that he’s useless and annoying, ok and? the majority of total drama characters are useless and annoying. only 4-5 characters a season ever actually try to win. total drama fans are more forgiving on white characters being useless and annoying compared to their melaninated counterparts because they see the “”potential”” in them. that’s why people are so quick to stan staci or ezekial for...existing? but never consider characters like b or beardo or justin or leonard.

leonard was robbed twice in a row because fresh thinks poc are disposable unless thier arc revolves around the mustiest white boy imaginable. leonard had just as much potential as ezekiel and yet no one talks about it because this fandom actively ignores characters that aren’t white. ridonculous race was at least a few months after pahkitew iirc? they could of shown how much he’s matured since then, they could of given him a real motivation to win, they could of expanded his relationship with tammy; are they dating, are they just close friends? does one attempt to keep the other grounded in reality? how does the rest of the cast react to them? they could of had a character arc about realizing they don’t actually have powers and how to grow from there but since they weren’t a toxic couple with a comphet plot line, fresh immediately disposed of them. and no one cares because leonard isn’t cody-colored.

i’m not saying leonard should of won pahkitew or ridonculous race by any means, i’m not sure the world is ready for that much leonard, (personally i am but i know most total drama fans are cowards) but, you can’t act like it’s not a little suspicious that characters like him, katie, b and beardo were all first boots (with leonard being first boot twice) while the rest of the people of color that made it past the 5th episode were forced into the worst “”romance”” plotlines imaginable. (except for maybe dj, but he still got dealt really shitty plots for no reason >:/) if leonard had hooked up with sugar or if tammy was white i guarantee that fresh would of kept him around much longer.

i know only 5 people actually care for pahkitew but jesus, the lack of leonard art is appalling. leonard easily had one of the cutest designs in the show. i genuinely want to kiss him on the lips, he’s so adorable. that lanky man must truely be a wizard, cause he cast a spell on my heart, i can see what sugar saw in him. however, the only characters people are interested in drawing from the pahkitew cast are jasmine, shawn, sammy, scarlett and um...dave :/ (im not trying to shit on anyones favorite character but like..dave? the incel? ,,.really? :/) and surprise, surprise, 90 percent of that jasmine and dave art is ship art, with a white person. shocker :/. why does no one ship leonard and dave or something? this fandom loves shipping characters that hate each other so much. oh wait i know why, cause this fandom is repulsed by things that don’t involve white twinks. that’s why crack ships like dundie are universally praised to this day while iconic ships like notie are forgotten. (only real ones remember 2008 notie smh)

now for the record, i’m not saying hating leonard automatically makes you racist. i’ve seen a lot of people come in here and claim that not liking dave or sierra or cameron or whatever poc makes you inherently racist. while [white] total drama fans tend to use more explicitly derogatory language in regards to characters of color they don’t like (ex: the way gwanon talks about courtney vs. the way they talk about duncan despite hating both of them) but the difference between leonard and those other people is that leonard is actually well written and doesn’t suck. he only had positive qualities. leonard literally did nothing wrong and he gets so much hate for what??leonard didn’t actively hurt anyone, leonard didn’t commit any crimes, leonard didn’t fetishize someone’s mental illness. so i can’t help but side eye people that say hate leonard..it feels like they simply hate to see a nerdy black non binary wizard winning.

anyway, leonard deserves the entire world and i’m tired of people not recognizing it. so leonard antis ask yourself, why do you hate leonard so much? he’s just a funny wizard boy. and before you ask, yes i sent this is in as my college application.

#total drama #td #tdpi #tdrr #td leonard #td tammy #long post #...wow

[hkeroro]

ep5 thoughts

inconsistency very much present throughout the episode

i swear if half of the scenes are just fillers there’s no need to keep the 1hr 30mins format

the sudden villain profiling for seokhyeong’s mom?? shinhye accused of stealing her ring (my bet is shinhye was just taking back what was hers - the dowry)

the fact that we get like 20 mins of that w no proper resolution bcs suddenly it’s a timeskip???

i kind of get the point of the whole scene bcs it wants to amplify seokhyeong’s apprehension towards relationships (the whole his family being the in laws from hell trope?) but its like okay thanks for that what are we the viewers gonna do that w that info?

i feel like it merely just adds on to his characterization??

but him not pushing minha away when she confesses and let’s her try again, ok that was CUTE 🥺

BUT OK PRIOR TO TIMESKIP HOW MANY TIMES DID SHE TRY AGAIN?? will it still be a addressed in future eps (feels a bit weird if its bcs it’s been a year hello?) or forgotten huhu

only other standout scene was eunji’s mom and how the parents will donate every year under the name of the heart donor, sooo soo precious and thoughtful uwu

also plss can we get progress on ikjun and songhwaaaaa (i love them tgt as besties or sth more but i wanna see how things are set up for them ACKK)

honestly dunno how to feel abt the gyeoul scene too……..ppl on twt are picking on straws saying her prompt action was correlated to her being in a busive household tooo??? im sorry but seems like a stretch?

personally feel like it wasnt ooc too bcs we’ve seen time a few times of how gyeoul kind of just goes into stuff bcs she feels it was the right course of action at the time? debatable on how we view it as right or wrong (kind of like s1 where jeongwon and ikjun have diff responses to her actions yknow)

but also like i feel her being more reserved abt her feelings (not towards jeongwon but in general) and not opening up as much is gonna be a theme they explore in the next episodes since jeongwon (who’s highlyyyy perceptive) keeps bringing it up

but also the next ep is alr a timeskip LIKE MINHAS SITUATION ARE THEY GONNA ADDRESS IT OR PRETEND ITS NOTHING BCS ITS BEEN A YEAR? 🤨

idk its just so weird if it is gonna be addressed bcs it’ll be like, bruh it’s a year and they still havent resolved that issue, kind of thing no?

timeskips if used correctly make up the whole show but like everything else this season that also seemed outta place to me??? i very much welcome a timeskip but maybe a few months later instead since there’s a few things i’d like a resolution on before everyone moves on?? anyways

NEW INTERNS AND RESIDENTS ACKKKK ESP FOR GS!

i’ve been lobbying for kang seungyoon (loml) to be gyeoul’s new GS resident for the LONGEST TIME (seungmin - the oc i created for seungyoon has been a staple in almost all my fics plEASEEEE) and it’s so sad he won’t be there since he taesoon(?) in racket boys

🕯🕯🕯🕯🕯hoping for an OST still 🕯🕯🕯🕯🕯🕯

BUT LEE JONGWON??? OK IM LISTENING

ending the rant with the fact that im always so close to dropping the show but it always leaves me back coming from more (w the guise of maybe next week’s ep will be better and LEE JONGWON)

#hospital playlist #hospital playlist 2 #ahn jeong won #jang gyeoul #yang seokhyeong #yoon shinhye #chu minha #WHY AM I STILL WATCHING THIS ZZZZ #watch me come back w my thoughts on the next ep lmao

[swiss-cheeze]

(The Candyman Can) Rainbow Connection || Spencer Reid

Request: YES/NO // a part 2 was requested but I was going to do a part 2 anyway so, yeah. (@l0ve-0f-my-life)

Gender: none, they/them // I don’t believe there is any description, I tried to keep it nonchalant, the Sunflower song may be slightly suggestive because it’s sung by a female and have the aspects of femininity but overall is a non-gender affirming song.

Warnings: uhhh, slow burn, awkwardness? I honestly don’t know SEASON 8 SPOILERS, very long; seven pages on google doc lmao

Description: ten months after Maeves death you’re still singing for Spencer to help him cope, what happens when Garcia’s Dia De Muertos party brings to light your feelings?

Part 1: https://snitchthewitch.tumblr.com/post/621248749527760896/the-candyman-can-spencer-reid

Songs used:

It’s My Life - Bon Jovi

Hey There Delilah - Plain White T’s

Sunflower - Sierra Burgess

Rainbow Connection - The Muppets

———

Ten months.

It had been ten months since Maeve had left, ten months since a part of Spencer felt broken, crumpled and gone.

Ten months since you entered his life in a different way then he would ever think.

After your singing sessions things started to look better, brighter, lighter and happier.

Currently yourself and Spencer were jamming out in his apartment to It's My Life.

“It's my life! And it's now or never!” you screamed and jumped on the couch, Spencer followed you with a laugh and shouted at the top of his lungs.

“'Cause I ain't gonna live forever, I just want to live while I'm alive” Spencer sang, you grinned as you hoped down from the couch, grabbed his hands and started dancing.

“My heart is like an open highway, like Frankie said, ‘i did it my way’!” you grinned as Spencer spun you around and stepped onto the coffee table.

“I just want to live while I'm alive,” Spencer sang as you hopped up and onto the table next to the Doctor.

“ITS, MY, LIFE!” you exclaimed together and posed on the table as if there was a crowd gathered and you had just danced your hearts out; which you did. Your breathing was heavy as you let out a large laugh and jogged over to the CD player to turn it down as the next song came on from your playlist, going from a room shattering volume to a whisper.

“Drink?” Spencer asked with heavy breaths as he pointed to the kitchen, you nodded as you held your back and sat on the couch, Spencer came back a moment later with two glasses of water and handed one to you as you sat in the blissful aftermath of a singing and dance off.

“Are you going to Garcias Day of the Dead party?” you asked after a moment, it wasn't very risky to ask but it was still touchy as you both knew the background to the question. Spencer nodded.

“Yeah, yeah I am, I'm meant to be helping her with groceries sometime, she said she’d message me when she was ready” Spencer smiled as he placed the empty cup on the table and laid back against the couch cushions, “who are you bringing?” Spencer hesitantly asked as you grinned.

“I can't tell you that Spence, it's cheating” you shook your head before putting your cup down on the table and opening your phone to look at the time; you were meant to be home 10 minutes ago, “shit, sorry Spence i gotta head,” you said as you quickly gathered your belongings.

“Do you have to leave?” Spencer asked, he sounded so sad that you needed to leave, you bit your lip as you opened the door.

“I’m sorry Spence, i do, i've um…” should you tell him? “I've got a date,” you said with a tight lipped smile. Spencer hoped his face didn't convey the emotions he felt and hoped you didn't notice his change in demeanor.

“Oh, yeah of course,” Spencer said tightly, “you head ill...ill clean up here,”

“Thanks Spence, i'll see you at work!” you said with a grin and waved the Doctor a goodbye. The retreating of your footsteps seemed to echo in the surrounding walls of Spencer's apartment and his mind, your smile was flashing in his and out of his head a thousand times over in bright flashes as the room suddenly felt rather lonely and cold without your presence in it anymore. Spencer looked around the room as he felt his shoulders sag, emotions came back to him as well as memories of Maeve, Tobias, Nathan and multiple other people who impacted his life in some way, in a way of his work and in a way that's personal.

Alex.

Of course!

Spencer scrambled for his phone and clicked on Blake's personal cell number. It rang three times before the woman's voice floated through.

“Ried? Is everything okay?” the worry in Blake's voice floated through the speakers as Spencer took a breath.

“I…” Spencer sighed softly and sniffled, god was he going to cry again? “I think im in love...again”

“Oh Spence,”

---

You smiled tightly as your date talked about...what was he talking about again?

“And that's how I found out my family was a part of the mafia group in the nineteen hundreds!” the date exclaimed, oh god had you forgotten his name already?

“Thats,” you gave a fake laugh as real as you could, “that's amazing Matt!” you said with a clap of your hands.

“My name’s Michael…” your date reminded you, you sighed and put your head in your hands with a groan.

“I'm sorry-”

“No it's...I can tell your head is somewhere else,” your date said with a smile, “did you want to talk about it?” he asked, you bit your lip before responding.

“One of my coworkers…” should you be telling a story that isn't yours to tell? “One of my coworkers lost someone close to them ten months ago,” you started the story, you can't stop now, “and to be a good friend I started to sing for him!” you said happily, using your hands to talk, “i started singing for him because it made me happy when i was a child and i thought it would cheer him up as well, in the end it did and it helped him get better and obviously he is better but...that was ten months ago,” you sighed, “Micheal it was ten months ago that he lost what could possibly be his only love and here i am...in love with him,”

“Oh doll,” Micheal said softly as he put his hand on top of yours, “what do you mean his only love?” the man asked, “just so i can get a better understanding and idea of the situation,” he smiled politely.

“Hes...he has an eidetic memory, can read 20,000 words a minute, he has 3 PhDs and 3 Bachelors, he doesn't get along well with women in the romance scene a lot of the time but he's just...he's just so smart and he's so lovely and kind and works well with everyone,” you took a breath as you wiped a tear from your eye you didn't realise had leaked, “he puts himself on the line all the time; he’s been shot in the knee, shot in the shoulder, he got kidnapped and drugged, poisoned with a worse strain of Anthrax then actual anthrax, he's such a good hostage speaker, he delves into every case with everything he has as if its his last which it could possibly be, he helped a young boy, Nathan Harris, when he believed he was going to become a serial killer an-”

“Woah woah woah baby slow down,” Micheal said as he looked to you, “you’re getting so worked up over this boy, i mean, he's just a boy,” Micheal said with a grin, “you sing for him don't you?”

“Yeah I do,” you absentmindedly smiled, “it's amazing, just today we sung It’s My Life before I came here,” you said with a large grin, the memory still fresh.

“Okay so, how about, instead, you lean it to more romantic songs? Slowly give him hints and open up to him more?” Micheal questioned, you never actually thought of that but as you mulled it over it sounded a lot better than any other plan you would have had brewed anway. You nodded.

“Thats...thats really good Micheal,” you said with a grin, “thank you,”

“It’s alright; if i can't be the one then i'll help you with him,” Micheal said with a joking grin. You ended the night with the waitress coming over to take your plates as you asked for the bill, split it, giving a lovely tip and Micheal driving you home. He planted a kiss on your cheek before handing you his number on a napkin, “for whenever and whatever you want or need,” he had said, you gave him a kiss on the cheek and a thank you before retreating into your house and mulling over the next few songs to sing for Spencer whenever he wanted.

---

A few days passed after your date and Spencers emotional outburst to Blake (which she kept to herself and Spencer of course), you had been given a case and hadn't had time to sing to Spencer; you could tell this was taking a little toll on the poor doctor as he became distracted easily as well as the far off gaze he had on his face a lot of the time now, however, the plane had just landed back in DC.

“Spence!” you called for the doctor, he turned for a moment and slowed his walking for you to catch up, “did you want me to call tonight?” you asked with a grin.

“Yes please (Y/n),” the doctor said, he seemed sad but also desperate.

“Are you alright?” you questioned as you stopped the doctor with your hand on his arm, “i'm here for you,”

“I’ll be alright after tonight (Y/n), it's okay,” and without another word Spencer left you, spoke to Hotch for a second and then headed out the door.

“Are you two okay?” Blake asked as she came up next to you.

“I think so, I think it’s just because we haven't had a lot of time recently for our normal sessions,” you said with a tight smile.

“He misses you (Y/n),” Blake said, “a lot more than you know,” the two of you dropped the subject pretty quickly after that as you walked to the parking lots and headed home, the road seemed to go in a blur as you drove, forming colours and paint strokes against the harsh greys of the DC city buildings.

---

Another few days passed and your singing sessions went back to normal, except this time you added more romantic songs, adding a more soft tone or even adding your uke like one of the first times you sang for Spencer, and right now you were finishing off Hey There Delilah.

“Hey there, Spencer,” you had changed the lyrics for the last ‘hey there’, you heard Spencer give off a little breathy laugh, “You be good, and don't you miss me, two more years and you'll be done with school,” you couldn't help but laugh slightly at the school part seeing as Spencer had...well you know what he’s got, “And I'll be makin' history like I do. You know it's all because of you…” you trailed the end of your sentence off slightly, “We can do whatever we want to…” you sighed softly, “hey there, Spencer, here’s to you,” you trailed off again as you felt tears well in your eyes as you spoke the last words instead of singing them, “This one's for you” and with that the song ended and you smiled into the phone, Spencer clapped loudly into the phone’s speaker.

“That was beautiful (Y/n)!” the doctor exclaimed with a smile, “I haven't heard that song before,” you laughed, of course he hadn't heard the song before.

“It's a classic but not the type of classic you know of,” you said with a smile as you heard Spencer laugh along with you too, “I’m sorry Spence but i have to get to bed,” you sounded so sad.

“Right, of course,” Spencer said as he finally glanced at the clock, god it was past 12 already? You'd been on a call together since 10, “goodnight (Y/n), i'll see you at Garcias tomorrow?” Spencer asked, shit. You'd forgotten about tomorrow completely.

“Y-yeah of course! I'll be there don't worry,” you smiled into the phone, “goodnight Spence” and with that you hung up the phone and got ready for bed. Spencer did the same in his apartment.

---

You smiled sweetly at Spencer as he placed Maeve's photo on the altar as everyone gave him a sympathetic look and then another person's photo.

“This is uh, Nikola Tesla,” he said, you couldn't help but smile, “i just hope he's still having fun inventing things wherever he is” Spencer said with the little smile and laugh he does every now and then as he stepped back from the alter; allowing you to place your photo. You gulped as you fiddled with the photographic paper.

“This uh,” you started, nobody actually knew who this was, you sniffled as Garcia held you hand and you smiled to her as thanks for the reassurance, you cleared your throat, “this is Gene Wilder,” you grinned as Spencer chuckled softly, of course it was him, “i don't uh, i don't really have any family that i'm close to that has passed but, Charlie and the Chocolate Factory has always been my childhood, it was always close to my heart and when the movie came out i fell in love with it even more and the more i watched it the more i felt Gene Wilder become apart of me, my family and my life.” you took a breath as you placed the photo onto the altar, it was of his iconic Willy Wonka pose, “of course he has become a meme icon,” you laughed as everyone did too, “but i know for a fact he looks at everyone from wherever he is and he looks at them with such passion and love and admiration for whatever they're doing and i know he fills me with hope and confidence whenever i need it” you smiled as you finished and stepped back and the line continued.

You all gave your thanks, gave a blessing or a prayer depending on who it was, sent your respects and then went your way with drinks and conversations and music. Spencer smiled as he came up to you when Hotch walked away, your conversation about Henry becoming dwindled as the food looked more appetizing to Hotch.

“Hey,” Spencer said with a little wave as he held a cup of...cordial?

“Are you really drinking cordial Spencer?” you asked with a laugh as Spencer nodded.

“Believe it or not cordial is a lot healthier than wine,” Spencer spoke with a laugh as he stated the obvious, you smiled as well but it was tight, “are you okay?” you nodded.

“Yeah i'll be alright,” you said quietly, where was this sad emotion suddenly coming from?

“Considering the circumstances it's okay to be sad (Y/n)” Spencer commented as he saw your saddened expression but before he could say anything else you put on a fake smile.

“Spence i promise, im okay” you said with fake confidence, “promise” you held out your hand for the doctor and took his warm palm in his, you could tell Spencer didn't believe you but nodded anyway, but your whole demeanor changed as soon as the song did and you grinned, “dance with me Spencer?” you asked as you set down your wine and dragged the poor doctor to the ‘dance floor’.

“N-no i'm not really- i haven't ever-” Spencer stuttered but with your glowing smile and laugh he found himself not finding the words to excuse himself before nodding and placing his drink down on the nearest surface. You brought the doctor close to your body and rested your head in his neck as his arms wrapped around your waist hesitantly and yours wrapped around his neck, you danced in a slow circle as the rest of the team gave suggestive glances to each other.

“Rose girls in glass vases, perfect bodies, perfect faces, they all belong in magazines” your voice floated through the air softly and Spencers voice hitched, “Those girls the boys are chasing, winning all the games they're playing, they're always in a different league” you continued to sing and sway with Spencer, his grip tightened on you as he buried his face into your hair as Hotch pulled Alex in for a dance, Rossi with J.J. and Derek and Garcia all walked to the dance floor; slow dancing and holding one another softly as your voice continued, “Stretching toward the sky like I don't care, wishing you could see me standing there” god was that directed to Spencer? It was, wasn't it? Spencer bit his lip at the thought as he continued swaying as he looked up for a second and saw everyone else slow dancing, a smile gracing his lips as your voice flowed through the air again, “But I'm a sunflower, a little funny, If I were a rose, maybe you'd want me” your voice wavered as you buried your face into Spencers neck, “If I could, I'd change overnight, I'd turn into something you'd like but i'm a,” your voice came out a little stronger now as you looked up and saw your co-workers now switching dance partners; Rossi with Hotch (which made you laugh a little), J.J. and Derek, and Alex with Garcia, “sunflower, a little funny, if I were a rose, maybe you'd pick me” your voice sighed at the end as you broke away from Spencers neck to look at the beautiful man in front of you, wording the lyrics to him, “But I know you don't have a clue, this sunflower's waiting for you,” both of you leant in as your eyes darted to Spencers mouth, his eyes doing the same to yours as he licked his lips without realisation, “Waiting for you” with your mouths inches apart and your eyelids slowly closing, you could feel Spencers breath fanning over your lips...almost...almost…

“(Y/n) that's a beautiful voice you have!” Alex exclaimed, the song continued in the background as yourself and Spencer jumped away from each other, smiling awkwardly as you wiped your sweaty palms on your hips and thighs. Your teammates all broke away from each other; Blake must have been the only one to see and realise what was going to happen, you looked to Alex with a mix of emotions including anger and appreciation; anger because she stopped you and Spencer from kissing, appreciation because she stopped you and Spencer kissing in front of the others.

“Thanks…” you smiled as you scratched the back of your head with an awkward smile, “well i gotta start heading!” you exclaimed suddenly, the crushing feeling in your chest getting too much for you to stay.

“Ohhh what what what?” Garcia asked as she came forward, “oh come on i can get the blow up mattress, we can all sleep here, take tomorrow off; Hotch we can take tomorrow off can't we?” Garcia suddenly exclaimed, you all smiled as did Hotch but he didn't say a word; Garcia was tipsy, if not already drunk.

“It’s okay Penelopie really,” you said with a smile as you walked to the girl and hugged her close, “i'll see you guys tomorrow though,” you smiled as you hugged everyone, of course Spencer being the last.

“I’ll drive you home,” Spencer said quickly as he picked up your coat as well as his, you stuttered as Spencer opened Garcia's door but decided against it; instead blushing and thanking Spencer as the two of you walked out of the apartment building and to Spencers old timey wimey car.

“Think those two will realise?” Derek said off-handedly with a knowing grin.

“They’re profilers, they'll figure it out,” Rossi said with a grin.

-------

Yourself and Spencer had already discussed you would sleepover at his house in case you got drunk or tipsy off of wine, that and the fact you used public transport to get to Garcias rather than a car and Spencer didn't want you to go onto the tubes at this time at night.

“No, Spence, I already told you I'm not taking your bed!” you exclaimed with a laugh as you got a drink from Spencer's kitchen.

“(Y/n) please, my couch is complete rubbish and i know!” Spencer exclaimed from his bedroom where he was getting dressed in. You scoffed jokingly.

“Oh yeah Spencer, you've slept on your couch you germaphobe” you said with a smile as you walked to Spencer's bedroom.

“I did! When…” as you entered the bedroom the air turned cold as Spencers smile fell, you looked at him from across the room in all of his shirtless-and-low-hanging-pyjama-pants glory, he cleared his throat, “when Maeve…” he choked as his sentence drained off the way it does when Spencer is emotional and about to cry.

“Oh, Spence im...im sorry i didn't think,” you said softly, you stayed in the doorway unsure of what to do. Spencer cleared his throat as he threw his side of the covers back and started to get into the bed.

“Please?” Spencer questioned, you knew what he wanted as he bunched the sheets at his waist and played with his fingers while looking at the covers, you nodded. Whether Spencer saw you nod or not you weren't sure but you went through the same motions as you would when going to bed; brushed your teeth in Spencer's connected bathroom, tugged off your work clothes, put on your pyjamas as Spencer waited patiently in the bed, unmoving. Your feet padded on the floor as you brought back the covers on the other side of Spencer and sat on the bed next to him, the covers bunched up around your waist as you waited, waited for Spencer to lay down, hold your hand, something.

And then he did.

“Spencer i know-”

“Can you sing for me?” Spencer suddenly asked, his voice on the verge of breaking as he looked to you with teary eyes, you nodded quickly and began to smile.

“Yeah, yeah of course i can Spencer,” you said quickly, “did you want to get under the covers?” you asked softly, Spencer nodded and sniffled softly as the two of you maneuvered to lay down. You laid on your back as Spencer clutched onto you, his head rested on your chest as your arm wrapped around his back and to his shoulder, “what do we want tonight?” you asked in a soft voice into Spencer's hair.

“Anything, anything happy,” Spencer mumbled into your chest, you nodded and thought for a moment.

“Why are there so many, songs about rainbows, and what's on the other side” you started to sing, Spencer doesn't know the muppets very well but he has heard this song play in your headphone while on the jet home after a tough case once or twice, this was the second song you used to calm yourself down next to The Candy Man, “Rainbows are visions, they're only illusions, and rainbows have nothing to hide” your voice was soft and filtered through the air as Spencer closed his eyes, envisioning himself in a wonderful forest, just like Kermit the frog with you by his side, your uke in your arms, the cords coming through seamlessly, “So we've been told and some chose to believe it, but I know they're wrong wait and see” you squeezed Spencer softly as you started on the chorus, “Someday we'll find it, The Rainbow Connection” you tilted Spencers chin up from your chest and moved back from Spencer a little so he wasn't arched weirdly nor where you bent weirdly, “The lovers,” you pointed a finger into your own chest, “the dreamers,” you pointed a finger into Spencers chest as he smiled softly, his tears dripping into the creases of his smile, “and me” you cuddled back into Spencer as his arms tightly wrapped around you again.

“Who said that every wish,” Spencer's soft voice filtered in the air, you smiled and hummed the instrumentals, “Would be heard and answered, when wished on the morning star” you smiled and kissed Spencer's head again and joined in with singing.

“Somebody thought of that, and someone believed it, look what it’s done so far” you shrugged jokingly as if the ‘look what it's done so far’ was someone really saying it, a soft chuckle came from Spencer, “What's so amazing,” you shrugged again as you looked to Spencer, “that keeps us stargazing, what do we think we might see?” you brought your unwrapped arm up towards the ceiling and cupped it around as if you were cupping Spencers chin, “Someday we’ll find it,” you looked back down to Spencer as your arm came down as well, “The Rainbow Connection,” you cupped Spencers cheek as you moved forward, Spencer doing the same as he looked down to your lips like he did at Garcias before gliding back up to your eyes, “The lovers,” you cocked a small smile as the lyrics came out in a whisper, “The dreamers,” you tapped Spencer cheek softly as the gap finally closed and your lips pressed against Spencers for a short moment before you both pulled back slowly, “And me”

#criminal minds #spencer reid #derek morgan #alex blake #aaron hotchner #david rossi #penelopie garcia #garcia #spencer reid x reader #x reader #spencer x reader #reid x reader #jj #the candyman can

[mrschangrettawrites]

Acquisitions

Summary: Every person has their purpose, and yours has just come up.

Pairing: Luca Changretta x Reader

Words: 1692

Notes: FINALLY AN UPDATE AFTER SIX MONTHS FDKNGKDOFNGDKFNGOD god im so sorry it has taken this long to update but i've gotten a job since starting this fic and it's consumed much of my time, then the holidays were upon us and, well, yall know how it goes. but i got hit with inspo during my shift today so here it is! the long awaited fourth chapter! hopefully future updates wont be as delayed but who knows lmao. anyways thanks for waiting! minor tw for violence. Spoilers for season four, but it is v canon divergent so not really very many, reader is a WOC. I highly highly highly recommend installing the InteractiveFics extension from the Chrome store if you can. To add your name and last name simply install the extension, then click ‘Need to replace something other than Y/N?’ and in the value bar put Name and put your name in the Replace With bar, then click change! And be sure to tick Store this replacement so that you don’t have to do it every time.

Tagging: @kittiofdoom @justanothergal22 @sophspark @blinder-secrets @ree-duh @kamala-khaan if you would like to be tagged just lmk!

Just as the tension was getting to be almost too overwhelming, a waiter arrived with two menus, and you had never been so relieved to be served in your life.

“Thank you.” You said, smiling brightly as you took one and did your best to hide behind it under the guise of reading the dishes on offer. Thankfully there were pork free dishes on offer, which made you remember that you were going to have to educate Luca on Islam and it’s rules. Then you wondered if he would be as open and kind about there being another religion in his home as your father had been prior to his reversion. You guessed that Luca was Catholic, and while there were similarities between Catholicism and Islam, there were far more glaring differences.

“When we have our wedding,” you began hesitantly, “will it be in a church?”

“If I know my mother as well as I think I do, I doubt we’ll have a choice.” Luca joked. “Why?”

“Just checking!” You said quickly, going back to the menu. Even though there had not been a masjid in Small Heath, you had always dreamed of getting married in one. Your parents had to go all the way to London, so you figured that you would be able to do the same. Would New York have masjids? Would it have Muslims? Would it have Turkish Muslims?

“What's New York like?”

Luca paused, setting his menu down. “Well, for one, it’s a lot bigger than Small Heath.”

That made you smile. “I thought as much.”

“I don’t know, it’s just...hard to describe.” Luca drummed his fingers on the table, making your gaze flit down to his hand, and watch how elegantly it moved. “It’s full of life.” He said finally, his hand still again. “Everywhere you go there’s at least twelve dozen people around you, even at night it’s busy. Makes Small Heath look pretty sleepy in comparison.”

Your heart hammered in your chest as you considered this. Your mind ran wild with images of towering spires, roads that went on for kilometers, people dressed in all manner of ways. Your life had been a sheltered one, but that was all about to change.

A waiter soon arrived, asking for your orders.

“I’ll have the chicken Alfredo.” Luca said. He and the waiter both looked over at you, waiting for your order.

You began to panic as you had become too wrapped up in your thoughts to think of an order. “Oh um, make it two!” You said, inwardly wincing at how your voice raised at the end.

But the waiter made no indication of noticing, merely made a note of the orders and said that the kitchen would get right to it.

You looked back down at your teacup, eyes traveling over the lines, both dark and faint, trying to figure out what they were trying to tell you, if anything.

“Have you had much Italian food?” Luca asked, and you were grateful for the distraction.

“Not really.” You said. “Just Turkish and English food.”

“Well I can’t speak on Turkish food, but English stuff sucks.” Luca said bluntly.

A giggle slipped from you. “It can be pretty bland.” You agreed. “I mean, the English have an empire that spans the entire globe, with colonies that have incredible spices, but they never use them in cooking for some reason.” That would never cease to bamboozle you.

Luca grinned and chuckled. “I know Matteo can’t wait to be back in New York with proper food.”

You furrowed your brow. “Which one is he?”

Luca raised a brow, but pointed at a booth just a few meters away, where you recognised two of Luca’s men. “The one of the left is Matteo, and the other is Frederico.” He explained. “Matteo can be a little hot headed, but he’s loyal. Frederico is more quiet.” His gaze went back to you. “And they will both protect you.”

While the notion of being protected and watched by gangster was far from a new one, the gangsters in question were usually men you knew well. You glanced at them nervously. “So, they’re ok with this whole marriage thing.”

“That’s irrelevant.” Luca said dismissively. “They’re soldiers, and they’ll do what they’re told.”

You knew that was meant to put you at ease, but it didn’t work. They had orders yes, but orders have been ignored before. And you couldn’t help but wonder how they really felt about their leader marrying some girl from England, who belonged to a family that not a week ago they were planning to kill. You fisted the fabric of your dress that rested on your lap.

“W-Why me?” You asked quietly. You had managed to keep the question away from the front of your mind so far, but you needed to know. “Why would you choose me? If you were going to marry anyone, Ada would’ve been the smart choice. She’s Tommy’s sister, and she already has a son, she knows how to…” You trailed off, face burning. “Well, you know.” You cleared your throat. “Why are you marrying me?”

Luca was silent, his unreadable, impassive gaze slowly going over you. It made the hairs all over your body stand up, in fact your surprised that the hair on your head hadn’t all magically sprung to life. “I wanted to repay a debt.”

You furrowed your brow. “Debt? What debt? You don’t owe me anything.”

“It isn’t my debt.” Luca clarified. “It’s my mother’s.”

“Your...mother?”

He nodded. “She hasn’t forgotten, how you got her out of Small Heath.”

Oh. You looked back down, face flushing again. “I didn’t help your mum to have her in my debt.” You said, horrified that that’s what they, the Changretta’s and their people, all thought.

“I know.” Luca sounded calm, patient. “My mother said you weren’t that type. But you still got her out of Thomas’s path, and because of you she’s alive. I’m just repaying you. Now we’re even.”

You nodded, slowly, still not sure what to make of this reason, if it was in fact the truth.

If you were completely truthful, you hadn’t been thinking at all when you had gone to help Audrey Changretta. You just knew that her husband was dead, after hours of torture, and you knew that Tommy wouldn’t have thought twice to go after her. You still remembered that day, as if it had just happened.

While the early morning fog had still clung to your ankles, you raced to her home, heart hammering. You were terrified that you were too late or that she wasn’t home, but she was there, tired and a little disheveled, but there.

“You have to leave.” You had blurted out. “I’m so sorry. Tommy’s killed your husband and you have to go I’m so sorry I really am but you need to go please, please just go!”

It had taken you a few minutes to calm down and fully explain everything, but once you had, Mrs Changretta did as you asked. You even helped her pack, and kept an eye out for any Blinders. You went with her to the train station, all the while telling her how sorry you were. You were almost hysterical, and in tears by the time her train arrived. You thought that would be the last time you ever saw a Changretta.

When Tommy heard that Mrs Changretta was gone, he was livid. You had walked in on him yelling at John and Arthur, demanding that they go out and find her, leave no stone unturned, no person unquestioned. He was going to have his pound of flesh, one way or another.

“She’s gone.” Once again your mouth had moved faster than your brain could think, and you stared, wide eyed, as the three brothers and Polly all looked at you in shock.

“She’s what.” Tommy’s tone had been dripping with venom, and it sent a chill all through you.

“I’m sorry Tommy but I-I helped her leave.” You wilted a little, hunched over, equal parts ashamed and scared. “She didn’t do anything Tommy! She-”

You were cut off by the feel of skin colliding harshly against your cheek, sending you to the ground.

In a daze you looked up, to see Tommy being restrained by Arthur and John, while Polly screamed at him.

“YOU DON’T RAISE A HAND TO FAMILY LIKE THAT THOMAS!” You had never seen your aunt so furious, and it had only made your state worse.

“DON’T YOU EVER DO THAT AGAIN!” Thomas roared, eyes alight with rage. “YOU BETRAY THIS FAMILY AGAIN AND YOU’RE OUT!”

You began to cry. “I-I’m sorry Tommy! I’m sorry!” You wept and begged for forgiveness, but that had only angered Tommy further.

“Should ship you to fucking Istanbul!” He snarled. He paused when a child’s cries began to echo in the house, making him look at the ceiling. “And you fucking woke up Charlie!” Tommy managed to shake off his two brothers, and he glared down at you before getting out a cigarette. “I mean it.” He said, in his low, quiet, dangerous voice. “If you ever pull that shit again, I’ll put you in a fucking crate myself.”

Even after Polly got you out of the house you were sobbing, still saying how sorry you were.

“Don’t be sorry sweetheart.” Polly had said gently. “You did a good thing.”

‘Did I?’

“How is your mother?” You asked, trying to ignore the memory of the stinging pain from Tommy’s slap.

“She’s alive, which is what matters.” Luca smiled gently. “Thank you. I mean that. My mother is all I have left now.”

You nodded, swallowing thickly. “I would do it again.” You said, only realizing how true it was once all the words had left your mouth.

“Two chicken Alfredos.” The waiter had reappeared, carrying the dishes on a silver platter and laying them out in front of the both of you.

“Grazie.”

“Thank you so much.”

The waiter nodded before moving onto another table.

“Still can’t believe you people don’t tip.” Luca said, sounding genuinely mistified.

“What’s a tip?”

#luca changretta x reader #peaky blinders fanfic #peaky blinders imagine #peaky blinders fic #peaky blinders x reader #GUESS WHO'S BACK #BACK AGAIN

[minsuxga]

Anagapesis

(n.) No longer feeling any affection for someone you once loved; falling out of love.

Inspired by the quote:  “How selfhood begins with the walking away and love is proved in the letting go.”

Summary: Falling in love with Yoongi was easy. Watching him fall out of love with you was hard and there was only little you could do but hope that he found his way home after long nights of being away.

Genre: !Yoongi! + angst + fluff (i swear there’s a happy ending)

Word count: 12.7k 

A/N : Initially, I was really hesitant about posting this. Most of the story really taps into raw emotions and personal experience and if im honest, I put my soul into writing this. I really hope you guys like it. I’ve spent ages on this and i’m so sorry about my semi-hiatus turned hiatus but im back! Please, please, tell me how you guys feel about it! criticisms and comments are v much appreciated. 

You don’t realise.

Maybe you do. Yet, only fail to accept the gnawing pang in your heart that screams to be acknowledged; tucked down every time you force to assure yourself more often than not these days that he loves you, he had to love you – right?

You say you don’t realise but you do, you definitely do, when the morning rays hit the bedsheets and a soft warm glow fills the room and your heart still stings like something akin to how an ice burn would.

You notice with a miserable ache that the bed feels as cold to touch as his skin and the icy miles you’ve put between yourselves is unbearable but neither of you stretches arms to each other to break the iceberg in the middle that hovers in the air in all its apparency.

An iceberg like a constant reminder that there was something obviously wrong in this relationship. Something that neither of you would yield to yet lying to yourselves to say you didn’t notice, fearful of the prospect of what happened when you did.

And his skin, God, his skin was smooth like untouched snow and the warming sunrise hues melted his ivory skin that stained the sheets like ichor into puddles of perfection.

And he looked like a porcelain doll and you could count numbers like the strands of his dark hair sprawled like a fan on the pillows of reasons listing why you loved him, why you’d fallen in love with this man who’d given you nothing more than the infinity and murmured soft kisses into your neck under the witness of the stars and the watchful moon.

The man who had caressed your skin under the soft moonlight, under the gaze of Artemis and the reigns of her night sky that he’d be with you till the ends of the world and beyond.

Loving him was supposed to be infinite. Yet the assurance of infinity was fragile and fell from the safety of your fingers like glass. A clumsy mistake. A hopeless desperation. Shards too sharp and painful to touch and only a longing stare to redo the past differently in its wake.

And here, laying together but not fully together you realised with a daunting recognition that this infinity that you’d proclaimed with naïve hopes and dreams was finite and finishing.

The seeds of a blooming relationship that you had once possessed had seeped into the earth. A connection that had seemed as impossible to break and decipher as the roots of noble trees, giant in age and true in their confidentiality was only the waterlogged earth gulping for breath at your feet.

And as much as you had hoped that your connection would remain as vibrant and prosperous like the first time it had taken to flourish, it was feeble against the change of seasons where flourished flowers kneeled before time and were helpless into becoming decaying ones.

You chastised yourself at the same clueless optimism that you had used to believe that this intimacy, this tenderness that was supposed to be stronger than its fragile appearance would breed life into the darkness of the earth and turn greyish leaves into burning red ones.

Golden speckled like embers and suffer forged and furious, resembling the autumn months did you believe that your love willed anger into a drive for its survival.

You were blind-eyed and walking in a fantasy that was as childlike as your want for the past.

In reality, love was weak and resembled more like the sand that slipped between your fingertips and seemed too far spread to collect, to piece back together like the small world you’d held in the palm of your hands for so long – till now.

For now you could only hang onto each of his words because your relationship to you was like a story. You’d come to the last few sentences and your heart tugged at the thought that you’d one day have to place your eyes on a final single word and a full stop to end whatever this was and close the book despite your stubbornness to stare at it forever.

And you stared at his back as the morning hues took a dullish turn and your monochrome bedroom resembled the dark turn of your life and the never-ending routine you would have to subject yourself to once more – one more day again and again till months passed and one more day was only a reminder that it would eventually only be one more day.

Laying here in the early break of dawn, his body tired out from the hours spent at the studio, you continued to stare at his back, vast as the oceans between you and thought about how he seemed too far away on the bed to be even considered to be sleeping with you.

Staring at his back, as cold and distant to you as the frosty evenings and conversations, you yearned for the memories where he’d turn around, like a sixth sense tingling in his sleep as if he’d known that you were staring and grumble to ask why you were awake and cross the mountains of pillows to pull you under his chin and drowsily tell you to go to sleep.

However, this time like most days, you were met with a still silence and an acknowledgment that those were memories – and memories were things of the past.

So here in your present, Yoongi the best present life had given you, you crossed the mountains of pillows today instead, a bold move and an even more labouring task that caused a quickening of your breath and a rapid thud at your heart against your ribs and you pulled yourself to rest your head in the nook of his spine knowing that he wouldn’t move and in the next hours you’d find yourself miles apart again and tried to assure yourself that nothing was wrong and that everything was okay like it had always been and this time you tried to pretend like he was telling you to go to sleep like he always did.

And you just wanted to sleep not to take solace in slumber but simply because you wanted to live in the land of dreams and fairy tales because you were simply too afraid to wake up and try your hand at another day of avoiding the problems that were becoming far too apparent to be ignored. You were too afraid to come to the terms with the fact that nothing was okay-

That nothing had been okay between you two in a very long time.

And in this present, lying next to him, you only sought to find sleep in the comfort of your lies and pretence and could only hope that you would wake up the day you didn’t need to anymore.

When you met him, he was a man that lacked in words.

Yet, his unwillingness to talk to you was enough to get you intrigued, entranced by the old soulful eyes that took you on journeys and held enough conversations that let you pry into the intimates of his life even without him opening his mouth.

And you travelled his little world in the few seconds you glanced into his brown eyes and you were left with a thirst, a desperation, a want needed to be quenched to see more, to know more.

And his silence and his stubbornness to take a foot forward towards you was the lack of a welcoming hand despite your persisting attempts to be patient and determined even when he wasn’t.

At first, he tried his very best to wave off your irritating attempts in getting to know him, tried to stop you from pursuing your efforts of reading into his story, prying open every cobwebbed page rotting away with years of feelings untouched and forgotten, suppressed into little lines and far too great a book.

You, however, were vibrant as the world that existed around him, a world that had lost his touch and seemed far too distant and tasteless.

And the world, this world he’d once wanted nothing more to do with was grey and monochrome yet your smile breathed light and colour into the ends of the earth that made him want to explore it again to see just what it was that could make you shine so brilliantly- god, he wanted to see it too.

You were bright, you were warm and homey and everything he needed to feel at home again. You were everything he wasn’t and so you moulded into the figures and curves of his body with perfection and your smile and your giddy laughter was contagious and he understood.

God, standing with you he understood that there were somethings in life that could make you too happy to explain.

He understood only by kissing you, on the same lips you used to smile as if the earth was star speckled and coated in fairy dust and magic- that this was what made you shine so brilliantly.

And he understood and more often than not, he’d find himself forgetting who he was, who he was supposed to be and letting himself delve into the little wonders of life that were you.

Together, you bred life into his little storybook. You named every character and held his hand and went over the fading ink so that it was new again and where once even smiling your way and any sort of contact or brief communication was something far too great a distance for him to fathom – he’d found himself miles away from where he’d started, travelled the distance and voyaged every corner of the world by the end of every sitting with you – creeping closer and closer to a territory that Yoongi would have easily expanded on the same earth he’d once found tiresome to share with you.

When in love, what time was there to think about technicalities?

 With Yoongi, there was a lot of things you’d found yourself having to become accustomed to.

You’d found yourself accustomed to the door and every one of its dents. You had stared at every stain with a straining sigh and a soft shake of your head.

You’d found yourself noticing the way the hinges had started to come of the door handle, time worn on the metal as a reminder that you’d been doing this for too long- waiting into the dead of the night for him to enter the door despite your knowing that this was another one of those days where he’d lay his head down and find sleep in the discomfort of his studio chair.

You’d found yourself accustomed to the repetitive routine of repeated events, accustomed to staring at the steam blow off the hot plated dinner into the vacancy of the room to keep you company before the stumbling footsteps at the door once you’d thrown most of it into the trash.

You’d become accustomed to the apologies murmured into the crook of your neck and the arms tight around your waist to yield your disappointment into understanding and you had become old and aged at the empty promises he’d leave on your skin and down your body of a fancy dinner the next night.

It's the same cold, cold night where he’d leave you dressed only to cancel, leaving your hopes and dreams at the foot of the doorstep, not so brave to leave the home and unwavering against the apology texts and more promises of next time that have snaked into an anxiety that pleads him not to because you’re sick of hoping to be anything but disappointed.

You had become accustomed to shaking your head and assuring yourself that his lack of time for you was okay because his work was unpredictable in the way that his actions weren’t.

But you are accustomed to it- you’re used to it. You’ve adapted and learned to change your ways to fit around your emotions because that’s what you’ve been born to do. Born to change and adapt and survive. You’ll make it survive.

So it doesn’t bother you. Despite the fact that everything in your heart yells at you in foolery, in a desperation to be acknowledged that it most certainly does.

And the days move on and dates on the calendar continue unstopping until the summer months welcome the winter ones until they yield their great leaves in surrender, bow their fiery colours for cold ones and take arms to a change inevitable and happening.

You watch the world embrace the frost and the edge of a softening glaze of white and silver and you listen as the sounds of happy summer children turn into carols that light up the sky in a brilliance that is as bright as the fairy lights that follow it.

You remain in your still world, watching the world change, adapt, repeat its cycle from the moment you feel the glaring heat on your flesh. Sweat wet against your skin changing to the soft snow beneath your fingertips, white as far as you could see and resembling the uncertainty of your future, bleaching your relationship in a single colour that made you nostalgic for the colours it couldn’t fathom any more.

And days turn into months and the world doesn’t stop for you despite your longing for it to wait- in a hope that one day you’ll catch up, stop stumbling like a shadow behind it and grip onto anything despite your dizzying fatigue because you simply couldn’t. You couldn’t adapt. You couldn’t change.

You couldn’t yield to a normality with Yoongi that was simply too bleak and dull in comparison once he’d shown you all the colours in the world.

How could you get used to the simplicity of a single thing when you’d felt it all?

It’s a familiar darkening night, the only difference being the change in the moon and the position of the blinking stars that watched on the repetition of the world under it.

The same darkening night, one that’s ripped away the warmth and sea of pinks and red and gold, distinguished the inferno that spread across the horizons and set the world ablaze into an emptiness, a dark aftermath that was nothing less of a still silence that rocked the earth.

And the stars, the stars were the only evidence that it had ever happened. Resting above heads and easily overlooked, the stars were the witness, the fall-out of the flames, now scattered like soft embers into the stillness of the onyx sky.

And it’s during these very nights that you begin to notice the way his apologies slowly start to disappear, how they meld into a mutual acceptance of how certain things will be in a fixture too permanent for either of you to change.

You begin to notice how his kisses have faded into mere imprints, sunk deep into the skin for you to rack your brain in remembrance of what they felt like when they were still fresh on the surface. You notice the lack of limbs around your body, his body etching further and further away on the bed until you’ve settled into a distance that you fear to cross.

You notice the vacancy of his voice in the room- how even in the morning with the vibrant sun, the house makes you shiver in something other than just the cold, lacking in his warming laugh and your giddy happiness, of days where you’d move across the kitchen in a choreography only the two of you could dance in.

Now, you feel like a phantom in your own home, gliding with a heavy heart as if searching the place in a desperation for memories. And Yoongi, Yoongi couldn’t even be called a ghost. His presence so void from the home that he was anything but the occupant that haunted it.

It’s one of those nights, emotions of something akin to loss mingling with the emptiness of the home and it’s suffocating silence, you continue to the stare at the door with the same naïve hope and foolish optimism that he’d be back soon- that he’d take his seat in the chair that almost stared back at you with a pity you couldn’t help but wallow in.

And the silence that followed you as you sighed, the screeching of your chair being the only sound to accompany you as you discarded the remains of your dinner reminded you of the things you’d long noticed and long since avoided, remaining mum about the paranoia’s that had settled in your chest and had crept into the little crevices of your body.

And you continued to think, grabbing a blanket from your room and treading back towards the couch to lower yourself, pulling the soft fabric under your chest as if to cocoon you, to fight away the stupid, stupid feelings of loss- what were you loosing? And still staring at the door in a sadness that wasn’t necessarily directed at anything but the goddamn door.

Time seemed to tick on and fatigue had long since settled into your temples and you fought to keep your eyes open, shaking off the way they draped over your eyes in a darkness you could lull yourself to sleep to but there was a yearning, a need for him to prove himself different today, to be awake when he did.

But the time didn’t slow and the creeping anxiety finding comfort inside you was enough to tell you that some things were bound to break no matter how hard you tried to preserve it.

And it was almost two and your back hurt from finding solace in the couch, tucking yourself into the plush material in the hopes that you could close your eyes and find the same magic, the same comfort that it used to.

You were desperate for some sort of normality, for it to just go back to the way it used to be but this house was full of memories and the man who lived in it a mere stranger.

And it hurt, broke your heart to think that the promises of the world and forever, of an endless love and an unconditional fairy tale was nothing more than a storybook, a fiction and a tale that would never be.

When had the title to claim the love of your life simply become a title with no claim? And you wondered, pondered under the night sky and the blinking stars in the hopes that it would qualm your distress.

In the hopes that it would offer you advice for the man that jumped at the opportunity to travel to the ends of the world and beyond for you- had beyond become too tiresome for him to continue?

And it was on the couch when you heard the keys click and the door creak open, heard him sigh and kick off his shoes and you only listened as he pattered through the home, his eyes merely resting on yours before passing you without even the word of acknowledgement, no reprimanding that you shouldn’t stay awake, no kiss on the forehead, no promise, nothing- nothing but the stillness and suffocation of a silence that said more than the words he lacked in wording to you.

You waited, waiting long before he’d retreated back into your bedroom without you till you broke down, till you made memories of a teary night on the couch that once held a history of a love story for the ages.

And you sobbed into the night, the twinkling stars staring at you with sympathy you didn’t want and you heaved, weeping sorrowfully because Min Yoongi was too far now and things weren’t the same.

You cried because he was your best friend, the person you confided in. Yet in your difficulties today, you were no one to him to weep your worries to.

And you cried, cried till your eyes were heavy with tears and sleep and everything in between and your woes fell deaf to his ears because behind closed doors, Yoongi slept and found solace in the world without you.

You weren’t losing Yoongi. How could you lose something you’d already lost? How could you preserve something that had long since been broken?

In time, you’d simply force yourself to adapt to the constant changes that were Yoongi and his attitude towards you. You’d stopped questioning the way things were and why there were and simply accepted the reality that things weren’t the same and ultimately, would never be again.

The emotion you’d tried so hard to suppress, the growing fear that you’d tried to stifle, tried breaking apart was resurfacing. In the end, behind closed doors and hidden frowns there was the undeniable reality that had you shaking your head, spending moments in front of the mirror to deny in order to drown down your anxiety.

There was the simplicity of a few words that weighed down your heart like the many- a few words that you’d forced yourself to look away from but there was no denying the undeniable, a reality so very real and despite it being deep as the bergs that bred in secrecy- it was like the smoke of a fire you couldn’t hide- one you couldn’t run from.

A simple truth, an inevitable happening: he had fallen out of love with you.

In the end, the truth congregated- gathered like clouds and came for you on dark nights and even darker days. Even the sunshine couldn’t act as a veneer anymore to the change that was inevitable like the sun setting above the horizons and the night appearing, night after night without fail.

You could regret, regret the days you’d taken with him for granted or regret the way things had become. You could long all you wanted for a world painted in colours once you couldn’t fathom them anymore.

Despite the world seemingly mostly black and white these days, your relationship with Yoongi unspoken and dulled down- there was a regret that burned deep inside you, clenched within your core because outside your dreary days is a world that moves spontaneously.

It pains you, to watch Yoongi belong to that world of colours and ignore that everything wasn’t okay. It pains you after seeing, after feeling all those colours, to be told to settle for shades of grey.

And when you wake up in the morning you aren’t surprised that the bed is completely cold and you don’t need to turn away from the ceiling to know that Yoongi’s already left and there’s not a single memo that could have reminded you that he was ever here to begin with.

Achingly, you force yourself up, running your hands over your face and sighing into the emptiness of the room before removing the covers off your body and readying yourself for another day filled with mundane tasks in a silent home filled with your conundrum of thoughts.

You almost dread how you’ve been given the day off work, a soft pat on the back from your boss who claimed you’d been overworking yourself and should take the day off.

However, looking around the house you wish almost longingly that you were back in the security of your workplace, distracting yourself amongst the papers and co-workers. Anything but here. Anywhere but the place that day by day felt less and less like home.

You sighed into your coffee mug, staring into the same kitchen that would be bumbling with noise had it been a few months back; Yoongi making his way over to peck your forehead, your temple, anything, everything, on the days he’d lie in and take comfort in the curves of your body instead but it’d been months and his habits had faded away and you felt stupid standing there making food for two because yours hadn’t yet.

“I should take him some.” You say to yourself, your fingers fumbling around the containers as you try to reassure yourself that this way okay, that you always used to bring him food and surprise him at the studio because he loved it. Why would it be any different now? “He probably hasn’t eaten.”

And despite having everything changed, if there was one thing about Yoongi and his personality was his forgetfulness and how caught up he’d get in his work to forget the simple necessities he needed like eating.

Any other day you might have texted him but this wasn’t like any other days and your phone was as void as ever in a silence he seemed adamant to maintain.

You were aware that you were talking to yourself, almost chanting the words as if they would ease the fear of doing this trivial gesture that should feel like nothing to you but do. You hoped that this, this could be taking the first steps to at least try and salvage the bits of your relationship while you could. You hoped maybe this would be the start of a new beginning, maybe he’d come back to you. Maybe.

And you don’t know what possesses you, what takes over you but your standing in front of his studio with a bag filled with all his favourite foods.

You can’t help but feel childish, like this wasn’t something you should be doing but here you were, a foot away from his studio door with an irrational fear of what would happen when you entered.

You almost felt like you were suffocating. Here, entering a room with a man that was practically a stranger to you now with an emotion that felt too much like the end. In hindsight, you could have said you’d known, that you’d felt it coming and maybe it was for the best but in that very moment, after months of uncertainty, you were firm in believing that today would be different.

After all, something had to break to allow change; whether that be you or your relationship.

With a heavy heart and a shuddering sigh, you closed your eyes and reached to turn the handle to the door that you knew all too well, spending far too many nights crashed on the couch when Yoongi overworked into the night or listening to the unfinished music fill the room- basking in the security that was simply your boyfriend.

This time, the door creaked and groaned under your touch and the magic that you’d always felt in this room that was all too Yoongi were lost and you stared at his back, you were always staring at his back, watching him get further and further away from you.

His face was scrunched up in the way you knew was utter concentration, his headphones around his neck and staring into his lyrics completely and utterly oblivious to the world around him.

Suddenly, you weren’t so sure of yourself anymore and the confidence you had to salvage the remnants of a dying relationship had withered away.

It struck you just how much you didn’t belong in this world, how much he’d pushed you away and just how much distance had grown between you that the few feet that separated the two of you now couldn’t compare in comparison.

The studio had been a place that you had associated with fond memories, yet standing in the middle of it all with not so fond feelings stirring inside your belly made you realise the sheer emptiness of it all; that everything was simply a reminder and there was nothing you could do that would change that.

You felt like you were staring at a picture.

You could remember every feeling, every laughter that you’d felt captured into a single moment adorned with great smiles and even greater emotions but standing here in the aftermath of memories cemented how you couldn’t recreate pictures.

No matter how long you stared at it, it was just a remnant of a single past moment amongst the countless of many futures.

You coughed. He turned. And you watched his brow furrow, staring at your figure in confusion as if he couldn’t comprehend why you were here.

“What are you doing here?” and his voice is void of its usual pleasant surprise and it cements just how much has changed between you and though you expected every bit of it, it doesn’t stop your heart from dropping. He sounded exasperated, tired.

He’s tired of you, a little voice in your head said and you couldn’t lie and say you didn’t know but unlike Yoongi, you weren’t tired of him and this was your last attempt, your little act of selfishness- holding onto him because you wanted to slow down the moment you had to let go.

“I brought food.” You said softly, stating the obvious and pulling up the contents in your hand to show him the bag filled with all the delicious meals that only makes your stomach churn but your particular response isn’t the answer to the question he’s looking for.

Here, staring back at a stranger it’s obvious that you don’t know this man and his brown orbs scream nothing but unfamiliarity to you now- he was asking why you were here. His real question left unasked in the air but one you could read with ease. Why were you still trying?

“Oh,” Yoongi says and he’s looking anywhere but at you when you leave it on his side. “Thanks.”

Was that it? Was he supposed to say something? Were you? But you know it’s your cue to leave when he doesn’t say anything else, when he doesn’t acknowledge you and doesn’t ask you to stay but instead moves to put his headphones back on.

You wonder then, just when did your relationship result in this? Just when did his warm affections become nothing more than cold glances and you can’t help but stare at him with a longing in your chest, a desire to stomp on all the floors and pull a tantrum because you just want to go back, you just want him to love.

You wanted him to look at you, come back with the same vibrant smile you were used to.

You wanted him to love you but fuck, did he even know what loving you was when you were sure he’d fallen out of it?

You stared at his back. You hated staring at his back.

You hated how closed off he’d become, how your attempts at trying to rekindle your relationship bounced off the same goddamn back. You didn’t even realise you were crying, hot tears forging paths down your warm cheeks. Ironic because he’d done nothing but make you feel cold all these months.

And from the way his body stiffens when a sob breaks from your chest and fills the room, from the way he stops himself from looking at you, a deep sigh resounding against your harsh breaths as if he knew it was coming, you know he’s heard.

“Look at me.” You sob angrily, a fierce fire bubbling in your stomach because enough was enough. Because you couldn’t keep pretending, couldn’t keep ignoring.

You couldn’t do this to yourself. You couldn’t continue to live unhappily because you were trying to save something that didn’t want to be saved. “Just this once, look at me.”

And he does and there’s enough emotion in Yoongi’s own eyes for you to know that this is it, that there was no going back from this.

It almost surprises you though, when you see a deep sadness coat over his orbs, a pain present and upfront and inevitable. Even if he didn’t love you now, he had once and letting you go meant letting go of all your memories; of all the things he’d fallen for and all the things he’d adored.

Letting you go was like burning a photobook of a life he’d long since outlived and grown out of. The only reason he’d kept on so long was because of the little attachment he had left, because you had been there when the days and years moved on and when the summer months welcomed the winter ones.

You were there on the same nights, listening with him when the sounds of happy summer children turned into carols that lit up the sky in a brilliance that was as bright as the fairy lights that followed it. You were there, with him, under the same sky that had witnessed it all. The same sky that could retell your history like the stars it had unfolded beneath.

Letting you go was like burning a photobook of a life he’d long since outlived and grown out of but him damned, he didn’t want to let you go because he was scared to make a new one.

“I’m so sick of this.” You cried, gesturing to the space between you and him. “Who are we fooling? Ourselves?”

And you didn’t need an answer and Yoongi only soaked in your appearance, tear-stricken and racking horribly. Your big sparkling eyes had been dulled down with the tears he had caused you, a fire dancing across the softs of your cheeks in a way he knew was only anger, disappointment.

And he hated it. He wished he could take you in his arms and mumble away your woes but he didn’t love you in the way he had and he felt so guilty for falling out of love with someone who’d taught him what love was.

He hated how he was the one who had been the one to suffocate your relationship even after multiple tries when you were the one that had breathed life into his mundane world.

“We don’t even look at each other anymore.” You whispered and he hated how fragile you looked, how the strongest woman he knew crumbled in a state that was as sad as this. And you hated it yourself, hated yourself for succumbing to this. “I can’t keep doing this. I can’t keep pretending that everything’s okay when we both know it isn’t. It’s just not fair.”

“If I went wrong, if something happened, just tell me. Just tell me how we can fix this” You sobbed desperately and this was it, this was the last and you knew all too well that you couldn’t fix anything and there was nothing you’d done wrong.

Now, here, in that moment, you drank Yoongi in like it was the last time you’d ever be intoxicated.

“I’m sorry.” He whispered, because he was sorry and he’d forever be sorry and there was nothing he could do now. Even then he could hardly get himself to look at you.

Despite anticipating his words with every ounce of salt in your body, every hope crushed the moment you’d first walked in through door, it did nothing to ease your pounding heart and you couldn’t stop it when your lip quivered and you had to just stand there embracing yourself when the onslaught of tears came flooding in.

You didn’t know how long you had stood there but it was enough time for you to realise that there was nothing more either of you could say now.

After months of beating around the bush, you’d finally addressed the elephant in the room, finally cut through the tension that had built up in your home and scouted the replies to questions you already knew the answers to.

You and Yoongi were breaking up. After years together, you’d continue apart like individual people on individual paths.

“I’m sorry too,” You said once you’d composed yourself. You were sorry because you hadn’t tried hard enough or maybe because you had longed this out for far too long. You were sorry because you couldn’t keep all the promises you made to him, that he couldn’t keep his.

Sorry because after months of silence where you’d spent endless nights going over what you’d say to him and then finally arriving here- you’d said nothing. Because there was nothing.

Because more was said in the unsaid.

Because he didn’t have to say any more for you to know because you couldn’t scream and cry when it’d been coming and it was more of a matter of when you ended it than how you’d amend it.

You don’t linger much after that, stay only a few more moments to soak in his milky skin, his pretty brown eyes that searched anywhere but yours, his dark hair before turning to walk out of the door with a greater purpose than when you had entered it.

You’d missed the way Yoongi opened his mouth to say something, how his stomach churned at the sight of your food and despite having turned back to his music, there was nothing he could focus on more than you.

He should have been happy. He should have been relieved but his heart feels heavier than ever and he regretted that he couldn’t stare at you enough, his first love, before you disappeared in an air colder than the one he’d given you.

He was a coward but he regrets how he can’t even cower in his emotions before you. A woman made of fire and ice and everything in between.

It doesn’t take you long to gather your stuff.

It doesn’t take you long to collect all the pieces in your- his home. Bundling up all the things that were you and yours before leaving the house in a manner that resembled the state before you’d met him, back when your shirts hadn’t started appearing in his drawers, when your toothbrush wasn’t placed next to his and back when the webs of his life weren’t entwined with yours.

And you can’t help but stare at this sad, sad place that you’d once called home; can’t help but trace over the furniture that had kept you company in months of solitude, accompanied you through bursts of tears and anger and though they might not remember it now, even times of great love and adoration that had once brightened your world in a comparison that could make even the sun yield.

You were quick on your feet, gathering with haste and dread and everything falls apart in your arms but you’re adamant on holding yourself together while you can, stubborn in forcing yourself to be level-headed because you didn’t want to be here when Yoongi got here.

His studio had been your last goodbye and there was no time for treacly sentiments if he came back and encountered you. Knowing him, he’d probably spend the night there anyway, his practice in avoiding you almost an art now. There would be no mistakes, no sentiments.

No weeping would change facts and your feelings despite heavy on your chest and though it felt like the world was falling apart, they were small, insignificant; minuscule against the vastness of the universe that you were nothing against.

Your existence was a speck of dust, your feelings yours and yours alone- one you couldn’t share, one you couldn’t voice.

A pain that was so very individual, so very yours that in the haste to grip onto your things, you’d dropped the strength that had held onto your emotions, unchained them, released an intensity that was wild, untameable.

The realisation of just how alone you were hit you so intensely that you could feel it burn in your core, a desire to rip out your insides and plead them to obey, to reason, please.

But feelings were wild, untameable and they were products of the heart and no matter how many times your mind concluded logically that this would pass, all things do, your heart felt like it was in pieces within your chest and God, you would do anything to make yourself feel whole again.

They’d never told you that love could hurt so hard, that the aftermath of love was just as intense as falling.

No one, no one could teach you heartbreak in the way you’d learn from experience. No one could teach you the magic of falling in love, the vulnerability, the passion, the intensity that could rival a flame and was as magical as the Garden of Eden, with every emotion as vast as the number of flowers that were adorned in it.

No one could teach you loneliness until the veneer that had shrouded your sorrows in a pink cloud of love had washed away in wisps of grey that magic was fleeting and love was as deceiving as the thorns that tempted naïve seekers. An attempt to grasp beauty, a futile venture to seek Eudaimonia.

The aftermath of love was one that was as bitter as it was sweet and the remnants made you feel empty, hollow and as vacant as the world you surrounded yourself in; especially when you hadn’t come out of love and only witnessed the dark truth and a cruelty of what happened when someone else did.

You were falling apart.

Your breath ragged and harsh and this house screamed finality. Vacant-looking and cold.

This would be the last time you stepped foot into this house, the last time you breathed into it, bred life into it and you didn’t know if the attachment was to the love couch in the middle of the room or the love you’d made on that couch that made you less wanting to let it go, to leave.

You were severing ties with things you’d familiarised yourself with, severing ties with years, severing ties with attachment- severing ties with Yoongi.

It would be the last time you would see Yoongi.

You wondered where love went when it died and almost laughed at yourself, a bubble of lacking laughter flittering in your chest because you were going to the same graveyard to be tucked in the very same coffin.

Who cared where love went when it died? Wherever it went, you were going too.

You couldn’t say that you were happy.

What was happiness if not momentary? But in hindsight, it was easy to see that the choice that he made, the choice that you made was something that allowed you to be happier.

It was a privilege, a liberty that was allowed to you after suffering for so long. It was an emotion so foreign, so invasive that you didn’t know when enough time had passed that you’d allowed it to crawl, travelling through blind spots and breaching apparent sight into the cracks that needed filling.

In time, you’d learn that memories made after him were memories as precious as they were with him and you didn’t need to feel guilty, gnawing on days that maybe, maybe, somewhere he’d made a mistake he’d come running to amend.

Gone were the days were you wallowed in self-pity, in self-hatred and clung onto your insecurities with the idea that they were the only things you were allowed to keep.

Now, your chest felt lighter, breathing was easy and the concept of feeling better after time had done its work on you, after hours turned into days and days into months into years- that this emotion wasn’t a foe but a friend come after long nights was a concept befriended.

Your try at being somewhat happy was overdue and though brief as all moments are, it was something that made you think that maybe the wait was worth it.

It wasn’t as if breaking up with him had meant a break up with love either. His absence didn’t scare you from the emotion and neither did its scars frighten you from approaching it time and time again.

You knew love in more forms than he had given to you and you didn’t need his to know, didn’t need his love in a dependency that was unhealthy and poisoning to know that even in the absence of receiving, you could give in abundance.

You gave it in the affection you had for your parents. You felt it in the adoration you had for the sky, the ground, your home and your cat and your work.

You knew love in the smiles of grinning faces, you knew love in the air around you and in the breaths you took throughout the day- platonic, materialistic, familial- you knew love because you’d been around it. It was a shame then that he simply hadn’t been in it with you.

It had been two years since you’d broken up with Yoongi.

Two years since you’d stormed out the home that the two of you had shared and found solace at your best friend’s house, sobbing well into her shoulder and allowing her to hold you, being the little stability that you needed, a pillar on whom you could rely on when your walls fell.

Two years since you’d asked her to pick up the last of your things, instructing her to leave the keys on the kitchen counter when she did and then residing with her until you could find your own place, gradually filling up the vacancy of your new apartment with things that were you and you alone.

Two years since you’d quit your job, tired of the mundane tasks, of the repetitive nature of days crouched over the computer, nodding insincerely at scoldings only to repeat the same things months on end in the room that resembled a prison cell.

Sick of routine, you take up spontaneity.

Grinning when you capture pictures that reflect the freedom in nature, stories behind old eyes and beaming smiles. Days are spent travelling, from wedding to wedding, tomorrow the lake, the day after the sea.

You voyaged from people to people, capturing the essence of one’s world into another’s.

You weren’t happy, who really was? But your life was happier and the air around you was softer, the colours in your home bright as if to aluminate the days you stay in bed, staring hours on end at the ceiling unable to find your path and lost as to where to go.

Two years since you’d pieced your world back together, gluing edge to edge with nothing but time on your hands and as if to apologise for your sorrows, the world was patient and allowed you to steady yourself again, allowed you the years, allowed you to grow and gain and change and learn.

You learned.

You learned with time that you were better than what you had accustomed yourself to, better than the long nights and dark days and better than what you’d been given and so you were allowed to go and demand more.

Two years was a long time and in that time, though you hadn’t forgotten Yoongi’s face or his solemn touch and his gummy smile, you’d learned that you were simply better without it.

You hadn’t had any awkward encounters and you avoid all the places you visited together, avoided the area around your old home and not once did he reach out and not once did you but the fondness in your heart was still present and despite everything, you couldn’t help but think that he still had always been the best for you.

Your first in many things and last in others, with Yoongi moments were countless but it had been two years and your heart didn’t ache at his name.

Your eyes could wash over his pictures in fondness over spite and despite it being two years and despite you having made your peace with your breakup, you couldn’t squash down the little bittersweet nostalgia and the acknowledgement that no matter how many dates you went on, how many people you met, there was a part of you that only ever wanted to love him.

A part of you that only ever wanted to be loved by him.

And here you were, years later, the woman you had always aspired to be. A woman that knew no chains and felt emancipation like the wind between the locks of your hair.

Frenzied, ungovernable and every bit free, you were achieving the world, beyond the promises he couldn’t keep to you. A woman who amounted to nothing less than the universe with a presence that demanded attention yet there was the void somewhere in your chest that you had suppressed over the years that demanded greater caring, a filling that was Yoongi shaped and unforgiving.

You could pretend that you’d moved on completely, could pretend that his name didn’t make your heart sigh in contempt, lost in worlds of what ifs and what could have been.

You could pretend that even years down the line he had no effect on you, pretend that silent moments sat on the sofa watching reruns of your favourite show didn’t sometimes lead to moments with him.

You could pretend that you didn’t still call into your apartment to inform whoever you were home despite there being no one there, pretend that buildings like the dingy café around the corner where’d you first met didn’t remind you of him.

You could pretend a lot of things but you’d be a fool to think that you were anything more than an actor. Actors pretended and what you felt didn’t feel like pretence.

You weren’t holding onto fragments, weren’t cradling them to your chest in an unwillingness to let go. You simply couldn’t delete the effects he’d on you, the changes you’d made as a result of being with him.

You simply couldn’t scare away the phantom that had been your first love and had learned as a result to live with him rather than hiding from him.

Time hadn’t made you forget. It had made it bearable. And though absence had made your heart grow fonder, history was a reminder that things of the past couldn’t be erased.

When you wake up, you simply can’t pin the bubble in your stomach and the soft jitters in your chest to a particular emotion. You can’t place word to face but there is something in the air that screams nostalgia.

All the daily norms that present themselves in the way the light bounces of the walls, how the house feels refreshingly warm and your cat lazy slings between your legs in her morning greetings seems nothing if not odd.

And you don’t know why you do and in hindsight you could blame it on the odd feelings that stir within your chest in a restless agitation to want pleased that you find yourself staring at the old coffee shop that you’d first met Yoongi with a little more than just longing.

You’d spent two years walking past it, never offering it more than a measly glance and a fond smile but there was something almost magnetic, appealing about the store in all its old and dinginess that has you standing before it today.

That after two years of religiously avoiding the café did your heart ache wistfully at the sight in a want to relieve old memories and feel emotions as ablaze as the first time you’d entered it.

You wondered if the feelings you’d buried were still present in the little quaint building, abundant with importance or whether time had nulled its flames and your reach for familiarity had simply wandered away like all good things do.

The café despite its overall unappealing exterior had always been your favourite. You had looked past the falling sign and the uneven canopy and found solace in the grounded coffee scent and the little bakery tucked in the back, finding home in wooden seats and warmed beverage that presented you with comfort on winter days and summer nights.

It was your little secret that hid in the corner in the heart of the town, almost always empty and quiet and very often overlooked.

It was your treasure, the same place where’d you’d met him, finding shelter on a rainy day that soaked through your clothes and had you shivering.

It was the same place you’d locked gazes with him, albeit unfamiliar then but familiar with the dullness in his eyes that had you forcing your way through his walls and layers to extend a friendly hand out.

It was the very same place that had you returning back on dates, familiarising yourself with the seat next to the window and the menu and him until it was practically tradition to sit across from each other on casual nights spent talking aimlessly until it closed.

So returning after two years of being away made you feel apologetic, feeling as though you’d neglected the place in your want to avoid the pain that came with reminiscing and almost repentant in your actions as you stepped inside, knowing nothing had changed and there was still the same wooden tables and the same barrister at the front but still washing your eyes over to drink it all in and playback memories of times before things had changed.

You walked over to the front and smile at the barrister in acknowledgement, wondering if she remembered you and by the way her grin grew and she looked almost surprised you think maybe she does.

“Hi,” You breathed. Your stomach felt a lot better than this morning and it struck you after finding yourself here so abruptly, overwhelmed with familiar smells of pastries and coffees that your want for a beverage was only stronger than ever. “Can I have a-“

“I’ve got it.” She interrupted and a large smile played on her lips as you stared at her in mild amusement.

“How did you-?” You trailed off, wondering how she could possibly remember your order after all these years of being away. Sure you’d been a regular customer but the odds that she’d remember your usual was almost touching in a sense.

“Boss often said we’d lost our best customer,” She replied, a strong glint in her eyes as she busied herself in preparing your drink, her voice soft as she spoke to you. “We don’t get many people but you were here always here without fail so we thought you’d moved away.”

“I’m sorry,” You offer and you really are, this place was like home to you and you’d avoided it in the want to let the past be the past. “It’s been a busy few years.” You told her and it’s half a lie because you have been busy. You been busy in finding yourself, in getting to know yourself and live by yourself.

You’d been busy in getting to know the little liberties that had made you you before you’d known Yoongi- the ones you’d lost in loving him and though you were past the point in your life where you wallowed in self-misery and nostalgia, you’d simply been carried away.

“I can imagine.” She sighed, finishing off the lasts of your coffee before turning to you with a slighter sadder smile. “He still comes here, you know.”

And you know exactly who’s she’s talking about and you can’t help the way your heart leaps at the mention of him, at the thought that he still comes to the same place that was important to you as it was to him, sitting down in the same cosy spot right by the window to mull over his music after long nights of needed solitude.

“Often looks like he’s looking for someone as if any day will be different than the previous,“ She continues, knowing the look on your face and despite only being acquaintances through the cafe knowing more about your love story than the rest.

And when she turns to you, she’s grinning wider than ever, almost glad that of all days, today was the day you’d decided to show up. And she hands you your coffee before she speaks again, and you look down to realise that it’s exactly how you like it, creamy and milky as always and years could pass but your taste most definitely hasn’t.

“I think he can stop looking now.”

And you don’t have any time to really ponder on her last words as she thanks you again, shaking her head at your questioning smile before you turn around, automatically moving towards the area you know best when you see him.

And its been two years but your stomach does backflips and your chest heaves and for a second you forget how to breathe. Your throat feels as if it’ll clam up anytime soon but he looks more beautiful than the last time you’d laid eyes on him.

And he sits there, by the window with dark hair and even darker eyes that contrast greatly with his milky skin, staring out into the streets and sipping at his coffee with his face pulled in a characteristic you know all too well is to show that he’s thinking.

Two years is a long time and he looks slightly older, more mature and his hair hangs low and brushes against his eyes, more rings adorned on his fingers and there’s something about him that screams difference, stranger but has your heart soaring in familiarity because god, you were a liar if you thought that you weren’t still in love with him and seeing him did damage to your strengthened heart. Even now, you could stare at him forever.

And you don’t know whether it’s the stubbornness to sit in the same spot that you’ve always sat, unwilling to sit any place else or simply to talk to him, to hear his voice that gives you strength, holding onto your cup with a firmness that is new to you when it comes to him and marching over with a sense of purposefulness that even you can’t place.

“Is this seat taken?”

And his head whips to look at you with his eyes blown wide and his pink lips parted in disbelief. He could recognise your voice anywhere.

He doesn’t speak immediately, rather taking you in standing before him after years had done its work on you for a few moments. You offered him a small smile in encouragement and his stomach churned unpleasantly because you were the most beautiful thing he’d ever laid his eyes on.

You were standing there before him with a cup of coffee, your hair shorter, your smile wider and he hated that in your last few months of being together he had stolen that from you. He hated how he’d made you feel, hated the way his stomach churned in guilt, in regret every time he thought of you.

The way you stood only indicated independence, promise and you were strong and holding yourself together with a new profound confidence that left him speechless, repentant for the wonders that were you and the ungratefulness that was him in ever letting you get away.

He could sit there and drink you in, mumble apologises into your skin for the rest of his days and search for any indication in your brown orbs for a hope, any hope that you still loved him.

He could call out for you, reach out for your hand and bring you home, re-find the corners he loved best and re-explore and voyage across the pages in a story that was yours.

He wants to apologise, wants to tell you about the mistakes he made. He wants you to understand him in the way he didn’t understand him, retell his account of those last moments. He wants to tell you about the days where he struggled, the days where he didn’t, he wants to confide in you in the ways he did time ago because this, you had once been his best friend and his world.

The thought is almost dizzying and instead he replies with an even smaller smile that resembles a grimace before gesturing to the chair in front of him because there is time for that and one day he’ll let you know. “Not at all.” Never for you, he wants to reply.

And it almost gives him déjà vu of the first time you’d met, when you’d fought for the seat in front of him and he’d given a slight nod unknowing of the years fate had planned for the two of you, only these were different circumstances.

In a way, he thinks that maybe you are meeting again for the first time, two years was a long time and it was apparent, with the way you approached him with nothing but loose ties and fragmented memories that you were two different people.

And it’s almost painful to think that had it been a few years back you would have bumbled in with a smile radiant enough to make the sun look dull and you would plant a kiss to his lips and you two would sit there, sit here in the very same spot by the window, addicted to each other’s presence.

He had learnt a lot these past few years. From the moment he’d come home to find your things missing to the disappointed stare your friend had given him when she’d collected the last of your bits that somewhere along the lines he had gone wrong.

He hadn’t been wrong to fall out of love but wrong enough to realise that it was a mistake to fall out in love with you when all he wanted to do was bundle you into his arms at night, chat aimlessly on the days he was overridden with frustration and lost for inspiration.

He realised months on, when he’d fall asleep on his desk not wanting to go home because what was home if it wasn’t with you that he didn’t feel relieved, he didn’t feel less burdened without you but rather empty after years of feeling so full with love.

Heartbreak was not a one way street and it took him as much as time as it did you for things about you to stop bothering him and though he still searched for you in the café, always going in case of finding you, he figured you’d made your peace without him.

And if there was one thing he was grateful for, was that made you’d realised that he had never been good enough for you and he hadn’t valued you enough when you were worth more than anything in this universe.

No date he went gave him the same feeling, the same excitement and no music he made felt genuine enough but he’d realised that it was his short fallings that had cost him, something he’d learn to live with yet years on staring at your face, slightly more lined with age and maturity did he realise just how much had been at stake.

“So you still like your coffee black then?” You joked and you couldn’t help but feel relieved when you see a slight quirk of his lips as he stared at his cup sheepishly.

“Some things don’t change do they?” He shrugs before raising his own eyebrows at your cup that you pull towards your chest defensively, almost shocked at yourself when your laughter leaves your chest so genuinely.

“I guess they don’t, Min Yoongi.” You smile at him and he smiles back but there’s something odd in the air, something different about the way you hold and present yourself but it’s obvious with the way he stares at you and you right back at him that maybe there’s a little more than just your coffee that hasn’t changed.

“You look different,” He says finally and you can’t help but stare at him questioningly. Did he mean your appearance? “Better.” And the way he frowns slightly and his eyes avert from yours do you realise that he feels guilty.

You open your mouth to speak, ready to wave off his doubts. “I’m sorry,” and it surprises you when you both speak at the same time, laughing lightly at the interruption and ready to continue when he shakes his head at you.

“What could you be sorry about?” he says, looking at you regretfully. “It was my fault. I shouldn’t have let it build up like that and I shouldn’t have let you leave like that either.”

You sighed, after so long of thinking about what you would say to him when the time came, you felt oddly empty. “I think maybe it was both our faults. None of us said anything. I think more than anything I was just scared of letting you go.”

“I was scared of letting you go too.” Yoongi whispered and you looked at him, encouraging him to go on because you needed your closure, you needed answers for a time where he’d refused to give you any. “I was being selfish.”

He looked at you then, eyes filled with raw emotion that are apologetic and gentle and has you choking up. “I just wanted you to be there even when I didn’t think I loved you anymore. Losing you was like losing my security so I avoided it and I’m just- I’m sorry we ever got to the point; for doing that to you.”

“You were my best friend.” You told him and he sighed audibly and it’s shaky but you march on relentlessly. “I would have understood if you had just talked to me. I hated that nothing was the same because I loved you more than anything. I would have ended everything in a heartbeat if it meant that you were happy, that we could still talk.”

“I’m sorry,” Yoongi tells you and this time it’s genuine and unlike the time where you’d stormed off and disappeared from his life.

“I’m sorry too,” You smile, shaking your head because you accept his apology and there were things that you had gone wrong in too. “I guess its better this way.” And you don’t want to say that because everything in your heart screams that you still love him, that you couldn’t really cope with anything but loving him and you could live with the fact that he didn’t love you back.

“Is it really?” He whispers, so softly that you almost miss it but you’re sure, you’re sure that he’s said it and maybe, maybe he does still love you and maybe these years were what you needed to make the heart grow fonder. These years are what you needed to grow, to realise your worth as individuals and your strength in being together.

And when you look at him now, he, his own person and you, your own, you’re not as insecure to think that he his your entire world and you are nothing without him.

And you take your time in speaking, take your time in conjuring an answer to fit to reply to him and when you do, he looks at you, patient and waiting and you offer him a smile and a reply that isn’t absolute but provides him with a hope that leaves a smile, a genuine smile lingering on his lips.

“I guess we’ll see.”

And you walk away from the coffee shop, glad you had entered it in the first place with a lighter chest and a blooming smile that makes even your friends question.

“I’ll see you later?” and the implication that you want to see him later, that you don’t want this to end but rather to start has him nodding fondly, glad that after years of searching for you again, he hasn’t found you but rather a new version that leaves him excited and just as eager as the first time you had met.

“I’ll see you later.” He promises, watching you twirl away with a light wave before catching the eye of the barrister who’s absolutely beaming from ear to ear.

A promise that is one absolute that he can definitely offer you.

The promise of later comes sooner than you expect. You find yourself in the coffee shop without fail every afternoon, a brighter step, a bigger grin and a world that wasn’t too large for you to fit into.

He was there too. And you’d end your day welcoming the barrister who’d have your order ready for you, maintaining small conversation before your eyes wandered away and you’d find him tucked away in the corner as if waiting for you.

You’d find yourself sitting in front of him, making up for lost time and re-establishing everything about each other, exploring and discovering and you realise that you had never fallen out of love and seeing the same thing that had once broken your heart reflected in his own orbs- you realise maybe he didn’t either and rather had wandered off lost where familiarity had bred contempt and absence had birthed love.

And it’s inevitable how you two fall in love again, slowly and just as deeply as the first time. He doesn’t promise you anything and there’s nothing guaranteed but the security you feel when he stares at you in wonder is overwhelming.

And you’re glad, glad that you aren’t bound by obligation and sentimental vows but rather in the very purity of simply wanting to be together.

“You took up photography?” Yoongi asks you when you’re huddled up in front of your laptop and camera over a cup of coffee, sighing at the countless images needed edited. You look up to find him staring at you curiously, his eyebrows slightly furrowed because he was discovering new things every day.

“I hated my old job.” You tell him after a long moment, bringing the drink to your lips before indulging in its sheer creaminess, watching him watch you as you hummed in content. “I was just forcing myself to do the same thing every day and so I quit and took up something I actually liked doing.”

“And I like this,” You smile, “I love taking pictures of nature, of people, of everything- every day is different, every person is different and it’s beautiful really, being able to capture every emotion into an instant.”

Like every art came freedom and with photography you had the autonomy to do what you liked and the world to do what you liked with it.

“Can I see some of your work?” Yoongi asks and you stare at him, searching his face only to find that he’s genuinely curious, genuinely interested in the things that you find passion in.

And you realise, not so much as daunting as you think, that you’re slowly letting him back in. what he asks is an innocent question but there’s a sense of intimacy, something almost invasive that makes you realise the extent of your closeness.

You remember days of when he’d ask you to come down to his studio, staring at you with anticipation as he let you listen to his music because it was important to him. By sharing his art he was allowing you to see glimpses of his life. He was allowing you to see his story in other means that were beyond just him.

You understand then, nodding your head in affirmative and watching in the same daunting anticipation as he scrolls through your photos. And he stares in awe, eyeing at the pictures as if he’s trying to gain memories of lost time and you understand then that you’re fine with this.

You are fine with letting him back in after years of being apart and it’s not so scary to realise that this is a start of a new journey in the same love story that in hindsight, never did really end.

Unbeknownst to you, staring at your pictures and seeing your drive in shaping your life to fit the mould that you wanted inspires him and when he returns to his studio that night, it’s your very passion that makes music come easy to him.

“You have a cat?” Yoongi questions, grimacing lightly as he steps into your household for the first time, taking a step further in your new established relationship by dropping you home when he sees that thing twirl between your legs and purr contently at your side when you nestle into the couch.

“Isn’t she pretty?” You ask back, grinning up at Yoongi who doesn’t take his eyes away from her. She hisses at him, scowling deeply when he tries to take a step forward and you laugh at the affronted look Yoongi gives her, offended that he wasn’t even allowed to come near you.

“She hates me.” Yoongi deadpans and you grin because watching both your cat warily eye Yoongi in the same way he eyes her back as if to challenge one another is absolutely beautiful.

Months later, it’s a sight to behold when you find Yoongi asleep on the couch, having given him a set of keys, to see the same feline snuggled up on his chest, purring away as if she hadn’t spent the afternoon snobbishly turning away from his affections.

You had done your growing, he had done him and it’s different. You’re different. And you find a greater independence in voicing your own concerns and holding your ground in moments of anger.

You’re allowed to take up space. You were not an inconvenience. And so when you and Yoongi argue, you don’t cradle emotions to your chest and hope for moments of fury to disperse, but rather yell and scream and cry until there’s an understanding that allows you to grow, to move on, to learn.

“I don’t like it.” You sighed, sitting at the edge of your bed after a long day of arguing. Yoongi pretending to be asleep. “I don’t like it when you sleep at your studio because I feel like you forget that I exist.”

And it doesn’t take him long before he bundles you up in his arms, kissing your forehead because the anger has disappeared into the air and there’s nothing less he wants to do but to argue with you.

“I don’t forget that you exist. I don’t want you to think that.” Yoongi reassures you and you stare up at his long eyelashes and he tucks a hair behind your ear. “I’ll try come home earlier.”

And these aren’t promises but he keeps them anyway and he can’t help but feel a burst of adoration when you two actually sit in front of each other at dinner, babbling away because he’s home early and your showing him your work and he breathes in your inspiration.

It doesn’t take you long to love him and rather you build your relationship in between cracks and corners and you piece them back together in an adaption that is refined and strong.

And so when he kisses you, taking your lips as if there were his own, you realise with him you are whole and there is no other than him you would love.

And when he makes love to you, after years of being apart, your soul drawn to his as if you were forged from the burning ends of the same stars and your souls star-crossed and inseparable, you realise that there is nothing better than him loving you.

“I love you,” Yoongi whispers to you and you turn back to him surprised, it had only been a few months since you had gotten back together and you knew that the idea of saying that you loved each other was a daunting prospect.

“You-“ You start off but can’t possibly end because he’s repeating it over and over onto your skin, lips mouthing the phrase into your lips, your neck, your chest.

“I love you so much,” and he means it, and wonders how he could possibly fall out of love from someone as beautiful of you and he assures you that everything he says is only the truth because he’d be damned if he ever let you get away again.

“Show me.”

And love was not infinite and emotions had ways of dying out but you and Yoongi had proved all ends and if soulmates existed, you were undoubtedly his. You had found yourselves inseparable by a bond that was as strong as you allowed it.

And after nights of living alone, separated from one another and adamant on change and tastes of different waters, he was certain that it was in between your legs, bundled into your arms and smiles was where he wanted to be.

You had started your selfhood by walking away, proved your love in the letting go.

You had finally found each other again after a long winter. Two hearts connected like one, sure of finding the homes to which they belonged.

#bts #bts scenarios #bts smut #yoongi #yoongi scenarios #bts reactions #yoongi x reader #yoongi scenario #anagapesis

[audible--silence]

Words from the north - the whole unedited note from my phone

//

Words from the north

Watching the sunset over the Cape range tunes. A light yellow through to dark blue gradient swings through the sky with a string of Aqua running down the centre a single star sits above as a full moon shines lightening up the town of Exmouth after a day spent in the sun in the sand

-

I am convinced the only difference between the average joe and a poet is one pays attention to life, understands the dictionary and writes things down

-

From the one day the conditions called for hoodies and cameras rather than wetsuits and surfboards

-

Smelling like mosquito spray, salt water and sweat is a way of life

-

Surf forecast up here looks like sitting in SoSo looking out the window staring at a palm tree to figure out what the wind is doing and asking ya mates that walk in the door “hows the surf?”

-

You know you’re doing something right when you start feeling guilty for all the fun you’re having

-

And I would’ve gotten away with it too if it wasn’t for you meddling kooks

-

From that one time we thought itd be a good time to be homeless together for a week. By the end of it we were somewhere between brothers, lovers and mortal enemies all at once

#fucktony

#whothefuckistony

-

Sea’s of red dirt and shrubs for hours and hours and hours on end

-

Karijini

The sound of birds chirping, the wind rustling through the tall grass and the camp fire crackling away as the sun hides away behind the towering mountains im front of us. Shades of purple, red and yellow take over from the normal red, green and blue that make up the scene. I relax into a camp chair as twilight starts to take over. Indi is editing photos while Noems takes charge of dinner. Despite many attempts at offering help, we were both benched from kitchen duties. Another day of adventure comes to a close and the contentment sets in alongside the anticipation of what tomorrow may hold

-

Worth the wakeup knock on the car at 4am in the freezing cold

Worth the bitter windchills knocking our balance on the slippery rocky path up in the dark

Worth racing the sun to the top of the mountain

Worth choosing between having my fingers warm or my camera in my hand

Worth struggling to see by the light of a phone torch

Worth not feeling my fingers for two hours

Worth it for the golden yellow and blue light peeling over the horizon

Worth it for the feeling of being awake and alive before the sun is up

Worth it for the view of the cliffs side

Worth it for seeing the wind blasting trees

Worth it for the view from the top

Worth it for the oranges on the way down

Worth it for the tunes and singalongs

Worth it for the smoked salmon croissants

Worth it for the snacks and the beers in the carpark

-

But first, let me check my engine oil 🤙

-

You can tell where all our money went when you look at us, none of it went into shoes

-

At a fucked up level though thats just evolution. The strongest survive (colonialism)

-

“But what are ya gonna do with that information though? Just make your own meaning and chase that” (on the topic of the meaning of life)

-

The ritual of fires every evening after a days adventure and then every morning to boil the water for our coffee before we go again

-

The grit that came off my skin

The knots that became of my hair

The red dust that washed off me as I stepped into the first bit of hot water id felt in what felt like a very long time

The black under my finger nails

The red and yellow stains on my hands that the soap didnt wash off.

The holes in my shorts, tshirts and sweater

The red stains on my towel after drying my face

The rash on my face after shaving

-

Tilting your head back in ya camp chair to escape the heat of the roaring campfire and getting a glimpse at the sky absolutely glowing with stars was a constant reminder of how fucking good we’d got it

-

And you say sheeeeeesh

nice garyyyy

-

“Oi dad, what are ya doin?”

“25 ak47’s and a piece of plywood, thats what im doin”

-

Im in full travel mode now. All i think about is whens my next meal, when do i have work and hows the surf. Also wheres my weed.”

-

This post brought to you by…

-

All my friends do lots of drugs

-

“Ya livin the dream ya lucky shit” - taes dad, post

surf

-

An observation about all the people you see on social media who you idolize in some capacity: when you meet them in real life, no matter how much idolization or importance you think they carry, when you meet them in person, they all still behave like normal people

-

I’ve completely left behind my old way of life.

I’ve forgotten what its like to go to a bar.

To dress cool.

To think about what im wearing.

To think about impressing people.

To think about who to see.

To think about what event to choose from.

I’ve forgotten what its like to look up at tall buildings.

To see lots of concrete.

To walk past unfamiliar faces that dont smile when you walk past them.

To order coffee in a takeaway cup.

To eat nice food.

To see my friends at pica bar for drinks at the last minute plan

-

There came a time about two months in where i began to get over it all.

Doing dishes with a water bottle and a tea towel that smelt like smoke. Sitting in the drivers seat on your phone, tired because you dont want to have to brush your teeth with a water bottle and climb like a contortionist into your car’s bed every night. Sick of having to plan when i want to take a shit. Sick of having to set up and pack down my kitchen every time i want a coffee or some lunch.

Sick of not having anywhere to be but knowing im in one of the most beautiful places in the world and feeling a burning pressure to see it all. Sick of having to buy ice every two days

Sick of emptying water from my esky

Sick of laundromats and planning how long I’ll last on a single outfit

Sick of worrying if im spending too much time sitting in the cafe

Sick of being the tag along in everybody else’s group of mates

Sick of drinking beer every shift

-

As time goes by, you learn the intricacies of a place. Where all the rocks are on the track to the camp. Who in the carpark not to wave at and who to have a chat to. Where and when to be to get a free drink. How to steal a shower. When

-

More and more i find while living out of my car thst routine is important. Something to ground you. For me, its making coffee out of the car, no matter how inconvenient it is. Before inevitably giving up and buying an oat flatty at soso. - talk more about habits

-

Some things that dont grow old:

Seeing the surf going off

Seeing familiar faces out and about

Turtles next to you in the water

Whales breaching in the distance

The moon rising over the ocean or the ranges

The sky full of stars when the moon doesn’t shine

The sun and the warmth no matter the season

Town beach hangs with good crew

The feeling of a shower after a few days of salt water

The people at work

The chats at work

Free beer at work

The life in the oceans

The vibe of fun

Never knowing where you’re gonna end up after you wake up

-

Whatd you see when you nearly died?

A big pair of tittys and a snickers bar

-

The moon rises in front of me for the third night in a row. I watch it from my car, a leftover slice of pizza from work in one hand and my phone in the other. Im one of the very few people lucky enough to witness this insanely beautiful sight and yet it feels in this moment it feels unextraordinary. How spoilt with wonder must you be for this to feel normal. The same goes for this whole place. This is paradise and right now this is home. This is standard. Only when I get back to Perth and am able to look back with the 20/20 vision that is hindsight and realize just how special it all was.

-

I wish I was more conscious at the hour of 6am, snug in my bed, parked in the bush as the sun rises over the bay in front of me. An explosion of pink and gold dominates the sky, shining through the bushes and the trees around me. The sound of the waves crashing behind the birds chirping. An easterly wind rustles lightly through the trees. I’m so sure it’s beautiful. If only I was awake to take it all in.

Instead, i roll over and try and escape the golden light for a minute or two more.

-

Hey siri play lots of nothing by spacey jane

-

Sometimes Id like not to feel like a fugitive when i take a shower, other times, the stars as my landlord is a pretty good deal

-

Its not a mistake its a decision

-

Maker of questionable decisions

-

I dont wanna face this day for fear of what will come. For I know how good it can be, and I know the fuckery that this day holds

-

Holy fuck thats a lot of cars

Yeah its cos nobody fuckin lives anywhere

-

To be fair I’d stalk you

-

A happy change of plans

Like all good road trips, this one started out with unfortunate circumstance, poor planning and a significant lack of caution. We planned for months to leave WA and drive across the nullabor, up through NSW and into QLD and at the 11th hour, three days before we were due to leave, we find out that covid has closed the borders. Again.

So with a house I had already moved out of, a plan in shambles on behalf of a big bad virus, and a car all prepped and ready to leave, we did the only reasonable thing to do. Changed course by a few thousand km’s and headed north with no idea what we would do, where we would sleep, what we would eat, where we would stay, who we would hang with and where we would surf.

Our first day saw lots of last minute preparations, plenty of driving to all manner of songs and podcasts from everything to the worlds dumbest grifters to Australian alcoholics talking about orgasms. I shut the door on 25 Chatham Road for the last time. We drove through familiar and unfamiliar roads. Memories of standing on the side of these very roads ripe in my mind. Except this time, with my whole life in the backseat of the car, in a setup Reubs and I built. Hell of an upgrade from a backpack and a thumb. After hours of rolling green hills, that resembled what I imagine new zealand to look like we parked up on the side of the road. Very true to form. We set up the tent, brushed our teeth and had dinner in the form of a banana and a beer and then got to bed as the sun set. I woke up at 25 Chatham and now I find myself falling asleep somewhere between Northampton and Kalbarri in my car.

-

“Traveling is just tetris on wheels mate”

-

No matter how far away you travel to try and escape modern society, if you look up at night, you will still see a satellite and you will be reminded that no matter where you go, you are a member of a species that can get itself to space

-

Shit i like:

Squeezing kenny

Cooking in car parks

Paying for wifi and toilets with beer or hot chocolates

Surfing. All day

Chatting shit

Brownies

Staring at the stars

Dunes

Eating brownies, chatting shit and staring at the stars under the shade at dunes.

Hunters

Making new friends everywhere

Chatting to literally everyone

Having nowhere to be and never thinking about home

Telling Tony to get fucked

Surfing bombie and paddling back in twilight glassy waters

Dinners and laughs with friends in the whalebone carpark

Breaking into RAC for a shower

Coffee dates at soso

Waking up to ben packing a tent

Laughing till my ribs hurt

Tonic water with lime

No internet for weeks

Chatting to esther and alice at dunes

Staring at groms wiping out

Carpark hangs

Never having an empty passenger seat

Never being able to see out the rear view mirror

Never being alone

Cooking in the carpark opposite the cop shop

Drying shit on the car every time we parked

Listening to lots of nothing a million times

Chaos at froth consisting of surprise drinks, random chats and boats

-

And the curtain closes.

On two months and nine days of nonstop adventure and fun. Unpredictable, unprecedented fun. The people you met were of a caliber I’d not encountered and never considered to be my own but from the get go and proved time and time again over the course of my time up north, they were.

I dont know how I’m going to fare when I get off this plane in two hours and have to see my parents, exist in cold weather, deal with a broken car, find a place to call home, figure out a new job and find my way with my friends who I can never be the same with after this.

The wheels are up. Fleeting views of the ningaloo coast and the cape range out each side of the planes window; a farewell of what I’m going to be missing. The red dirt and wildflowers underneath us where I’ve spent most of my nights sleeping look exactly as they always are. Untouched and still. I know I’ll be back soon. I’ve got so much more to see. So many more people left to meet. So many more memories left to make. So many more waves left to surf. So many more beers left to pour. So many more sunsets left to see.

Exmouth, for two months you sure have changed me.

-

Tiger,

I dont know your history brother but if i had to take a look into your past im guessing id see a lot of pain, chaos, missing love and bad mates who dont know that they’re bad.

You’re a good dude man im so fuckin sure of it but you seem so hell bent on starting a fight and proving a point. To whom i dont know. Your break up has obviously destroyed you and your coping mechanism is alcohol and trying to get with women. You’re incredibly kind and generous to your friends and a fierce antagonist to anyone who isn’t. You need help and you know it but you dont know how to find it or who to ask.

The hardest thing about you is that you need to change your whole view of life. Theres more than you think to it. I know there’s someone in there waiting to be found. I wanna be the guy holding the torch while you search.

You’re a good guy,

I dont wanna see you get killed by some drunk in a fight or waste yourself away in a bottle and a job you hate because you didn’t know there was another option.

[renaroo]

My Abridged Feeling: RvBS15

Okay, bear with me. Or don’t, actually, because me being sour a year after a season of an internet show has very limited mileage lol

So one thing I’ve had to come to terms with over the past year of massive changes in my life is that expectations are only what you make them. As in, if you have them you’re going to have to accept that there’s a chance that what you’re expecting is actually going to let you down.

I’m a scientist, not a philosopher, so give me a break on the poor analogy.

But I do hold a lot of expectations for the things I love not because of the anxiety-inducing wait to see if I can be let down… repeatedly, but because the feeling of wonder and joy for when your expectations are met or, better yet, exceeded is that worthwhile of a process.

Something meandering through mediocrity, especially when it has impressed expectations from me before, becomes incredibly frustrating as a result. And that frustration of wasted potential actually annoys me and earns more of my ire than things that are truly bad.

If you follow my blog for multiple fandoms I’m in, you’re probably at least peripherally aware of my stance on this considering the love-hate relationships I have with various media like comics and movies. Things that disappoint me by wasting all their potential get big huge dissertations about them while stuff like, say, Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtles: Out of the Shadows get mercilessly mocked in about one post after I see it and then forgotten into the… ooze, as it were.

And I think that’s why I’ve spent the better part of a year trying, desperately, to put into words the ways that I didn’t enjoy Red vs Blue Season 15 where I was one of the people who couldn’t have cared less about Season 14.

Season 14 didn’t let me down because I thought it was a dumpster fire from the beginning and as a result actually had a few of the shorts surprise me with… I guess, competency?

Last Season, though, I had expectations for. I was rooting for. And, for the first five or six episodes, I was actually enthusiastically in support of. It led me on with the promise of being something that the season ultimately wasn’t. And I think that unevenness and the general let down is what left more of an impression on me than the general low quality of seasons before.

RvB has always been fairly uneven as a series overall, and I think that’s probably more evident in the Blood Gulch seasons and the Freelancer seasons than in the more comprehensively arcing Recollection or Chorus Trilogy — both conveniently playing out in three acts overall with three act structures taking place over the course of the individual seasons as well. But all seasons are guilty of it, and if you’re one to nitpick — which I think we all know I am — then you can do so for every season.

Which is why I could never fully articulate my issues with Season 15 as a whole, because the issues were always there, and sometimes could be just as if not more egregious than Season 15, but rarely did they bother me to this degree. And a part of me understood even from the beginning that it’s because, overall, if I was enjoying the other material, if I was entertained and had my expectations exceeded in other departments, I was always willing to overlook the things that RvB was bad at. I enjoyed the characters and their journeys over each of the story arcs too much to not appreciate what was there.

So I could still give a huge play-by-play of each of the individual things that were bothering me, as exhausting as that process has been for me especially in the last few months, but I don’t really feel like that gives me the closure I’m seeking in doing so.

I might still make individual posts about the pacing, the queerbaiting (which I have so much to say about i can’t even begin here omg), or the INCREDIBLY tone deaf treatment of racial stereotyping and suicide — in 2017, the worst possible year for either of those things that I can think of, not that any time would be good. And there’s a part of me that feels like I should make those posts when the exhaustion over it all isn’t as strong, sure. But mostly I just want to express that for me, as someone who has been watching Red vs Blue with my friends and making friends through it for almost a decade now, last season was the most disappointing for me because it seemed to lose track of its own threads and, more importantly, at times completely ignored the progression of the characters I loved which was the strongest asset that RvB has always had in my opinion.

If the characterization and relationships aren’t there, what makes RvB stand out from the internet humor gamer-based ugliness of the early 2000s isn’t there, and at least for me I’m beyond that being a passing grade on its own. And I think, for at least most of the people I’ve talked to personally, whether they’ve had the strong reactions I’ve had or not, that seems to be a predominant feeling.

Among a thousand nitpicks, which I can totally do if I eat enough chocolate and people don’t mind my posts looking like screaming IMs with my friends on Discord, of all the failings that I can point to with this past season, the most comprehensive reason I didn’t enjoy last season and am still apprehensive going into a new season is that for the first time in my viewing, RvB truly felt like “more the same”.

And that’s not nearly as fun.

#RvB15 #Red vs Blue Season 15 #Red vs Blue #RvB #rvb critical #long post #ignore this silly thing #Rants of Unusual Size #opinions opinions opinions

[matsbarzal]

Happier - Leon Draisaitl

Note: so like im not sure if i spelt his name right but whatever. i cried writing this, which is extra but the song is sad. it’s based off of ‘happier’ by ed sheeran. and i would suggest listening to it while you read.

Warnings: angsty, not a happy ending

Request: Just wanted to say that I love that Connor one! I was wondering if we could get an angsty Leon one?

‘Only a month we’ve been apart, you look happier’

“Leon saw you the other day.”

Looking towards your usual Thursday night date, you quirked an eyebrow at the Oilers captain, “Did he? Interesting.”

You continued tapping at your phone, your peripheral vision catching Connor in the midst of struggling to form words around whatever thought was currently going through his head. “You were with a guy, apparently.”

“Was I? That’s interesting; I didn’t know he was following my every move.”

“(Y/N)…”

Clicking your phone to sleep, you looked up to the man in front of you, “Why is it a big deal that he saw me with a guy the other day? We’ve been broken up for a month, Connor, he shouldn’t take it personal that I’m finally moving on and realizing I don’t have to deal with a cheater for the rest of my life.”

Connor sighed, a half-pout pulling on his lips, “He um… he said you looked good… that you looked happy. I think he really realizes that he fucked up, (Y/N).”

“Con, he fucked up months ago, this isn’t some new realization that he’s come to. Really, it’s not my problem anymore.”

“I know you still love him, and he loves you too. It’s obvious.”

You groaned at his words, annoyance seeping through your body as obviously Connor had been put up to this in the hopes that you would realize he was right and go back to the man in question. “I’m not going to say I don’t still love him, because I’d be a liar. But I’m also not going to lie and say he didn’t destroy me, Con. He ripped my heart to shreds when I caught him, and there’s no going back to that. I’m happier now; can’t you just tell him that?”

‘Ain’t nobody hurt you like I hurt you, but ain’t nobody love you like I do’

“Leon, I really need you to answer your phone. I don’t have a key to your apartment, and my flight leaves tomorrow night, I need my stuff.”

You slid down the wall, pulling your knees to your chest, attempting to contact any of yours and Leon’s mutual friends, hoping that one of them would know of where he was.

You called a few more people, each with the same answer of ‘I don’t know’ or ‘haven’t seen him’. There was no way that Connor, of all people, hadn’t seen Leon all day. Just as you were about to press the call button for the Oilers forward, a bang sounded from the elevator, the doors sliding open to reveal the man of the hour.

“I’ve been calling you for three hours.”

The German looked at you in shock, showing the dead screen of his phone to you. “I didn’t charge it last night, died while I was at practice. Why are you here?”

Gesturing with your head to the box beside you, “I need the stuff I left at your house, I leave for Toronto tomorrow night, and I’m not leaving the stuff you have here.”

Leon nodded his head, standing beside you to open the door, gesturing for you to go in first. You grabbed the box from beside you and lugged it into the room, looking around as you did. Nothing had really changed since you walked out two months ago, it was a little dirtier, it looked like it hadn’t been vacuumed since you left, but overall, everything was in place. Literally everything.

“You still have the pictures?” You questioned, picking up the picture frame from the wedding you had attended together two years ago, when you both were happy, and faithful.

“I couldn’t throw it away. You put it there, it’s your picture, I wasn’t going to throw out your stuff.” He gestured to the other frames lying around the apartment, pictures all from when you were happier together.

“You could’ve put them somewhere, in a box or something so you didn’t have to look at them.”

“I uh… I don’t mind. They’re a nice reminder.” Leon scratched the back of his neck, pulling at his sweater as he did so.

“A reminder of what? What you fucked up? Or who you fucked over?”

Your face immediately grew red at the words leaving your mouth, you knew they were uncalled for when you had said that to him all those months ago, and here you were saying it again. Leon didn’t even try to deny it; he just proceeded to look down, a sad glint in his eyes.

“No. A reminder of what I lost, of who I love.”

You weren’t doing this, not right now, not ever. “We’re not playing these games, Leon. You can’t guilt trip me into feeling bad for you, and taking you back. Not again.”

Leon nodding his head, “I know. I uh… I’ll grab your stuff; I boxed it a little while ago when Connor told me you were leaving.”

After Leon left the room, you quickly swiped your finger across your eye, hoping that any moisture that had formed was easily removed by the swipe. You knew it was going to be a tough drive home; it always was when it had something to do with Leon, these last few months. Your thoughts were interrupted when he walked back into the room, carrying a sealed box. Handing it to you, you dropped the empty box that was in your arms and took the other from him.

“I can put the picture frames in here if you want?”

You shook your head, easily denying his suggestion, “I don’t want them. I’m getting a fresh start; I don’t wanna fuck that up thinking about what could have been.”

“I understand.”

Walking you towards the door, Leon opened it for you. Turning to him, you smiled gently, “Good luck this season, Le.”

“Good luck in Toronto, (Y/N). I’ll miss you.”

‘But if he breaks your heart like lovers do, just know that I’ll be waiting here for you’

Getting settled in Toronto was not an easy feat. The office was new, the people were new, your apartment was new. Everything was new, and you had no idea what to do with it, you didn’t know where to put your things, you didn’t know how to set up your apartment, it was all a mess.

You tried to go box by box, settling on doing the bathroom, then the bedroom, then the kitchen, and leaving the living room for whenever the furniture you ordered arrived. It took you a few weeks, going box by box, as each slowly arrived from the holder you had in Edmonton, your friends shipping them out for you. You had completely forgotten about the box from Leon until it appeared below all the kitchen boxes.

Ripping it open, you peered inside. Most of the stuff was clothes you had left at his apartment, the occasional picture or headphones or makeup supplies you had left. There was a loose paper though, stuck in between two of the sweaters. You debated throwing it away until you realized that there was writing on it, in a font you knew oh so well, in the marksmanship of a man you knew too well.

‘(Y/N)…

I get that you’re probably not going to read this while you’re in Edmonton, which was kind of my intention when I made the decision to stick this in the box. But, I just wanted you to know something. I fucking love you, so much. And I’m so sorry. You didn’t deserve what I did to you, you of all people, didn’t deserve that. I didn’t truly realize what you meant to me until you were gone, and I know that’s terrible, but I just need you to know, that you’re going to make someone so lucky one day, and I hope they make you happy, happier than I did.

But I need you to know it’s going to destroy me, and that’s my fault. I hurt you, and it’s going to kill me for the rest of my life. You also need to know that there’s never going to be a person that measure up to you in my life, and I’m going to be in love with you for the rest of my life. Everything about you is perfect, your eyes, your hair, your smile, your personality, and when I hurt you, I knew it destroyed you because all of those dimmed. That brightness was gone, and it kills me that I did that, and I’m so, so sorry.

I want you to know that when you find someone new, I want you to be happy. I want you to smile, and love someone new. But if they hurt you, when they hurt you like I did, I’m going to be there. I’m going to be there even if im thousands of miles away, to put your head on my shoulder and cry, and rant about that fact you don’t deserve this, because you’re right.

I’m always going to be there. I’m so sorry, I’m sorry that I hurt you, and I’m sorry that I’m always going to love you.’

With the end of the note, a tear fell down your cheek, staining the paper and smudging the ink in your hands.

#leon draisaitl #leon draisaitl imagines #nhl imagines #hockey imagines #edmonton oilers

[hope-for-olicity]

Fabulous Olicity Fanfic Friday - October 13th, 2017

Happy Friday! So this is my attempt to both thank awesome fanfic writers for their amazing work and offer my recommendations to anyone who is interested. Here are the fantastic fanfic stories I read this week! They are posted in the order I read them.

Times Like These multi-chapter by @anthfan - A man from Felicity's past she never thought she'd see again suddenly appears in Starling City, bringing with him memories she'd rather keep forgotten, and a new threat. https://archiveofourown.org/works/1108116/chapters/2230074

About Last Night multi-chapter by @wrldtravler - As a favor, Felicity reluctantly hired none other than Oliver Queen to be her executive assistant. What she never agreed to was how distracting it would be having him only a few feet away with only a wall of glass between them. Apparently, Felicity isn't the only one struggling with the close proximity. Otherwise known as a shameless AU in which Felicity is a CEO, and her assistant Oliver Queen is more than willing to give her a hand. http://archiveofourown.org/works/10550150/chapters/23301288

Time for a Story multi-chapter by @smkkbert - This fic shows Olicity and their life as a (married) couple with family. Although Olicity (and their kids) are the protagonists, other characters of Arrow and Flash make appearances. YOU NEED THIS STORY IN YOUR LIFE. http://archiveofourown.org/works/3912157/chapters/8757172

In-Flight multi-chapter by @geneshaven - Oliver and Felicity set off on their honeymoon, part 2 https://geneshaven.tumblr.com/post/166128309359/in-flight

If Loving You Is Wrong (I Don't Want To Be Right) multi-chapter by @smkkbert - They live in a society where the Ministry for Procreation decides who you get to marry. Once you get the letter with the contact details of your partner, you are supposed to marry within few months. Sexual relationships with any other partner are forbidden, even before you receive the contact details. Everyone who disobeys that law will be punished brutally.  Oliver and Nyssa have come to terms with that. Although they are married, Nyssa can secretly be with Sara, and Oliver can do whatever he wants to do. When Oliver decides to make changes, he falls madly in love with Felicity. Therefore, his life takes a pleasant turn because although they cannot publicly be together, at least they can be in secret. Things soon get complicated, though, when Felicity receives a letter that shall change her life. http://archiveofourown.org/works/11847900/chapters/26747613

In Flight (Coming in for Landing) multi-chapter by @geneshaven - Part 3 Oliver and Felicity take a flight to get to their honeymoon destination https://geneshaven.tumblr.com/post/166179020894/in-flight-coming-in-for-a-landing

We Loved With A Love That Was More Than Love multi-chapter by @wrldtravler - When Felicity's father leaves her and her mother behind, she loses all her faith in the very idea of soulmates. After Donna Smoak remarries into the Merlyn family, events are put into motion that bring Felicity into proximity the very destiny she never wanted to be apart of, and the family she never knew she needed. After years of unknowingly fighting and dancing around her fate, Felicity finally receives her soulmark on her 18th birthday. With the truth revealed, Felicity's fate is left in her hands, and only she can decide whether to let him in before it's too late. http://archiveofourown.org/works/10216829/chapters/22672961

C is for Complications by @smoakmonster - As Felicity wrestles with her unrequited feelings for Oliver, she devises a way to help herself overcome them. But sometimes good plans lead to unexpected results. https://archiveofourown.org/works/12299901

(Don't) Let Me Go multi-chapter by @emmilynestill - Felicity told him to let her go, but even when Oliver tried, it didn’t seem to be something he was capable of. In the end, there would be nothing in the world Felicity was more grateful for. Weaving in and out of the final four episodes of Season 5 and beyond, follow Oliver and Felicity’s emotional journey back to one another, one step at a time. http://archiveofourown.org/works/11591223/chapters/26051715

Untitled by @wherethereissmoak - Prompt: "Excuse me for falling in love with you" https://wherethereissmoak.tumblr.com/post/166203781352/for-the-prompt-excuse-me-for-falling-in-love

Untitled by @foreverfelicityqueen - Prompt: "Don't you dare step one foot in this house!" http://foreverfelicityqueen.tumblr.com/post/166204163471/for-your-one-line-prompt-dont-you-dare-step

Untitled by @smoaking-greenarrow - Prompt: Olicity #4 I'm too sober for this. Extra challenge: Oliver walking in on Felicity doing something weird http://smoaking-greenarrow.tumblr.com/post/166205685859/olicity-4-im-too-sober-for-this-extra

Untitled by @foreverfelicityqueen - Prompt: "If I trip over one more of your shoes, I’m throwing them all away." http://foreverfelicityqueen.tumblr.com/post/166207711671/for-the-prompt-if-i-trip-over-one-more-of-your

Untitled by @wherethereissmoak - Prompt: "Are you ever going to let me cook again?" https://wherethereissmoak.tumblr.com/post/166205041942/are-you-ever-going-to-let-me-cook-again

Untitled by @foreverfelicityqueen - Prompt: "I don't think I've ever wished on a star" http://foreverfelicityqueen.tumblr.com/post/166204807201/one-line-prompt-i-dont-think-ive-ever-wished

Pieces of Always multi-chapter by @so-caffeinated and @dust2dust34 - Life continues after Forever is Composed of Nows. Ongoing non-linear collection of family moments for the Queens. http://archiveofourown.org/works/8220479/chapters/18840356

Things Left Unsaid by ClaudiaRain - Felicity falls ill, but it might be the best thing that's ever happened to her. http://archiveofourown.org/works/12312921

Untitled by @wherethereissmoak - Prompt: “You don’t strike me as the kind of person who likes normal girls.” “You’re right, of course. Normal is boring. But you’re not normal at all - are you?”  https://wherethereissmoak.tumblr.com/post/166227010752/you-dont-strike-me-as-the-kind-of-person-who

Untitled by @wherethereissmoak - Prompt: "Why are there 12 pregnancy tests on our bathroom counter?" https://wherethereissmoak.tumblr.com/post/166225599637/for-your-one-line-prompts-why-are-there-12

Untitled by @wherethereissmoak - Prompt: ""I heard you, but I care too much about you to give you what you want right now." https://wherethereissmoak.tumblr.com/post/166226012487/for-the-one-line-prompt-if-youre-still-accepting#notes

You Had Me at Hello multi-chapter by @tdgal1 - Oliver Queen and Felicity Smoak met at a Gala and had an instant attraction but Smoak Technologies and Queen Consolidated have to work together. Can they make that sexual chemistry work and still work together.http://archiveofourown.org/works/11075379

Untitled by @writewithurheart - Prompt: Give me a reason to believe http://writewithurheart.tumblr.com/post/166234352714/olicity-give-me-a-reason-to-believe

Blue Eyed Angel: Trust by @tdgal1 - Oliver and Felicity go to a baby shower http://archiveofourown.org/works/11069859/chapters/28009125

Technical Difficulties by @jedichick04 - "It's personal." Felicity growled in frustration -- actually growled -- and jabbed at the screen again. Set post 4x02. http://archiveofourown.org/works/5043265

Thursday multi-chapter by @someonesaidcake - There is something about the girl next door that Oliver Queen is only now noticing... Felicity is moving to college just down the road from where Oliver is a senior.  He suddenly becomes very protective of the girl next door.  Thursday night dinners might not ever be the same again. This story gets better and better! http://archiveofourown.org/works/10688658/chapters/23670255

The Life They Knew multi-chapter by @bytemegeekette - AU - Olicity - Felicity loved watching the happy life that her best friend had built for herself. Oliver watched his best friend reach every milestone he himself feared. An unexpected tragedy thrusts their lives together in a way neither could imagine. Could they over come their hate for each other to help fulfill the last wishes of their best friends. Loosely inspired by the movie 'Life as We Know It' http://archiveofourown.org/works/4944559/chapters/11349703

May I Be Your Shield multi-chapter by @aussieforgood and @yespleasehawkeyee - She could always tell him about her day. She could always tell him anything. Except she didn’t. The woman closest to him was keeping the biggest secret of all; a dark secret, a dangerous secret. Felicity Smoak is not safe, that much is true, but whether Oliver can save her from that is another matter. Sooner or later, we find out exactly how far we’ll go to protect the person we love most. http://archiveofourown.org/works/5721514/chapters/13182745

Bound to You multi-chapter by @bindy417 - Felicity is an ARGUS agent and Oliver with the Bratva but they met long before that! This story gives the past and the present. SO AWESOME.  http://archiveofourown.org/works/6602668/chapters/15105862

Killer Frost Smoak multi-chapter by @tdgal1 - Felicity is with Barry during the particle accelerator and becomes Killer Frost. How does she handle this and does she tell Oliver? http://archiveofourown.org/works/8654356/chapters/19846777

// @almondblossomme // @emmaamelia95 // @mel-loves-all // @oliverfel4 // @green-arrows-of-karamel // @coal000 // @miriam1779 // @memcjo// @captainolicitysbedroom // @tdgal1 // @spaztronautwriter // @lalawo1// @quiveringbunny // @quant-um-fizzx // @thebookjumper // @vaelisamaza // @myhauntedblacksoul // @lovelycssefan // @laurabelle2930 // @wrongshipper //

#FabulousOlicityFanficFriday #fic recs #olicity fanfiction

[survivemiddleearth]

Episode 1: “Hobbits, we gonna slay this all the way to Isengard.” -JG

I’m back and better than ever!

Heylo! Who loves a pre-game confessional oh we do! I cannot wait for this season to be honest. I am finishing a season as we speak being in the final 3 so the adrenaline rush and hype is so real. I am a not a super fan of LOTR but I do love and enjoy the the stories. I read the books when I was in second grade and the saw the movies for the first time in 7th grade. My goal is to be like Frodo in this game, make myself known when it's really important and needed, then disappear when I am not, why make a target on myself when I don't need to. Hopefully the power of the ring won't consume and something wild happens.... eeks here goes nothing, FOR MIDDLE EARTH!

Ahh fuck Johnny is in this game he's gonna betray me I know it fml I just wanna win an org how hard omfg

This is my first org in 5 months and honestly I forget how to play. I'm just gonna do whatever and I do how I do, but I'm not gonna be scared to yeet people out of here.

Part of my strategy is to try and be social to everyone in the beginning. I want to try and have a conversation with everyone on my tribe as soon as possible and try to gain a slight favor so people think I have something to contribute to them if we happen to lose the first immunity challenge and go to tribal

First confession of a new game is always a lot. I haven’t played since…March? Maybe even earlier than that. And if you know me, you know there’s been a lot of drama surrounding me since then, so I’m definitely nervous to be back in the saddle and playing again. Pre-merge queen. Basically, on my tribe, I feel…neutral to nervous. I have Dylan R, who is my ORG child, so I should be able to work with him fairly easily. I’ve also hosted Eric, which could be good if he weren’t friends with so many people who don’t like me. Same boat with Vi. I’m hoping I can kind of work both of them to my side, but it might not be possible and I may just have to rely on Dylan keeping me in the loop. There’s also a newbie, which is usually a good sign. Finally, we have Johnny. I FEEL like Johnny has an issue with me from something, but I’m not 100% sure. I love reaching a point in my life where I can’t remember who hates me and why, but, hey, that’s running and destroying the biggest ORG series since Mains for you. As for the other tribes……..yikes on a bike. Aside from Zach, JG, and Stephen (more of my sons), we’re fairly stacked with people who would cut my throat without a second thought. Drew has seen me play before and we had a, uh, messy relationship in that game. I’m certain Sammy still hates me from Lago and also from The Drama since he’s friends with the core few people who hate me. Nick I don’t know, but he has “skinny” in his bio as a positive which means we probably won’t get along, plus he came from tengaged which can be a yikes. Crow I hosted for like three seconds in Emathia, so maybe he’ll have mercy on me. Dennis I think hates me from the Athena stuff. Bodhi I think hates me, and I’m not wild about him either. Roxy I know hates me but I don’t have any idea why since we’ve never spoken. Probably just more Athena Stuff. Hopefully I make merge with JG. That’s going to be my big hope for this season. Well. Idol hunting is going to be my lifeblood. Wish me luck, unless you hate me like everyone else.

So Drew in this game? Kill me with an axe right now. What the fuck is JG doing here? I'm finished, I was going to play nice but THREE zwooper people are on my tribe. MESS.

Small tribe, which means riskier tribals early on but its easier to get to know everyone. So far Roxy and.. dnn??? I like (I’ll check the cast reveal for what we should be calling dnn). JG and Sammy I know from other games, I feel I can trust JG a little, we’ll see. Sammy I don’t know I like to give people clean slates but almost every game we’ve been in he’s gone straight for me. Bodhi hasnt messaged me back yet :/

Hello ! Welcome to my first confession. Excited to exist. I haven’t met everyone in the tribe yet but I am playing with my old host so that’s funny. I don’t really have any interesting things to say so just. Hello. The first immunity challenge is one that I really didn’t do well in the first time I played so. Yikes. Whatever I’m still excited !!

Well hey! Got a clue on my very first idol hunt? But in a series so aggressively dominated by men, where the hell is "sisterhood" supposed to take me?

Honestly, I did not want to do the first challenge. I know I am good at it, but I didn't want to be the one responsible for losing for the tribe since its a hero challenge. I made up an excuse which is not a lie and is at the same time. Hopefully our tribe does well at the challenge!

This game so far is really stupid, I mean no talking during heats is fine but the fact that my tribe didn't offer any condolences or anything like "you tried" is rude and frankly, tragic.

You ever agree to face an Australian in an endurance challenge at midnight your time, 2pm his time? What a disaster for me

What are half the things mentioned here. Like what's a hobbit. I know its a movie but like, really? There better not be a quiz on LOTR or I am getting last place.

Yas!!! I love getting lucky and being on a winning tribe. First immunity lets go hobbits, we gonna slay this all the way to Isengard. So far I've mingled and stayed for tea with my hobbits and gotten to know them. Of course I'm excited to play with Stephen again, cool to finally meet Roxy and Bodhi. We shall see what will happen I'm anxiously, excitedly nervous. But let's go!

You know the most embarrassing part of losing that comp in 2 seconds? The fact that I almost called in sick to work bc I wanted to free my schedule for the day. Yeah that was a flop. If I get eliminated first that would be simultaneously hilarious and also very depressing. No one other than Eric and Jay have messaged me so I should probably like. Pop in and say hi

watches crow flop

My tribe is so...INACTIVE.

In this immunity challenge, I have no other option but to beat Vi if i dont, I will lose my spot in this game, I swear on it

Im deciding if I should tell Crow Run wants him out. I like Run but I gotta cover myself...

So uh...it’s kinda fuckin wild. We lost and don’t really have an easy vote because everyone’s active and ready to play the damn game. I’m fairly certain there’s a large majority though I don’t think anyone will be absolutely shocked about who goes home.

I'd like to start this seasons confessionals of with saying that I absolutely hate Bodhi. Since he took my Tom Bombadil and then told me, he had forgotten that he was cast for this season... LIKE COME ON ARE YOU SERIOUS, THATS MY AVATAR. After calming down I saw the tribe I was on. Bodhi (AJUSNKDIKWQJNE), Roxy, Sammy, Stephen and JG. I have played loads with Sammy and Roxy before. Stephen seems nice. Bodhi must die and JG is prolly the hardest person to talk to since I was in kindergarten. I mean. It should be that hard to give proper answers to your questions. MAYBE it was because he was busy playing the inferior BR game fortnite, but still come ON. I agree to play the challenge, but didn't need to actually do something in it, since Stephen and Sammy beasted it. The idolsearch first went SUCKY. because I went to bree ignored Aragorn, got durnk and got a 35 % DISADVANTAGE ON MY NEXT CHALLENGE (LIKE WHO THOUGHT OF THAT HIGH NUMBER) then at my next search I find out, that the other option I had, prolly would've given me an Idol... OH MAN PLEASE DONT LET IT BE GONE I WANT THAT.

You know I'm winning when my tribe wins immunity. Time to take the free time to make an alliance of my own. I have to choose who I want to trust for now.

okay so i haven’t made a confessional yet but I’m super excited to see some familiar faces in the game. I’ve played with Dennis before but I know that if I’m a threat to his game he will take me out so it’s a good person to stick with for now but idk if I can trust him in this game. JG is very friendly and chill but I’ve onkg played another game with him where he quit. He had a lot going on so I understood but I’m willing to work with him again if he’s willing. ROXY IS ON MY TRIBE AND SHE IS THE LOVE OF MY LIFE AND I KNOW SHE WILL NEVER VOTE ME OUT. SO I GOT HER AND IM EXCITED. Okay and who else? oh yes Stephen! Stephen is cool and I’m 100% down to work with him despite our past in orgs. I just don’t want him to think of me as an enemy. If we have to boot out someone I’d say bodhi would be the most obvious choice because he hasn’t been active...but bodhi is a fun player to play with I’m just hoping he becomes more active before our tribe decides to give him the boot. I see Crow in this game and he’s super nice and I’m so glad I’m playing with him and also Johnny is playing and I’m hoping he’s gonna want to work with me. Okay okay I’m done for now. Let the games begin.

CRAP i forgot to talk about immunity and idol search...okay sooooo i went heat 2 after Stephen won heat 1 and like i was expecting to be targeted bc if I won, my tribe would get immunity. However Dylan(I’m sorry if i umm spelled that wrong) forgot the period and Crow spoke out of turn or something and I won...I was shocked but glad that it didn’t last as long as the first heat. Oh and I searched for the idol and went to the bar or something and it turns out the item i was gonna get had been snatched before I had a chance....WE GOTTA THIEF IN HERE....I’m just trying to make it to merge so i need any advantage i can get.

Johnny just approached me for an alliance and I told him, "of course johnny! :)" But I am internally screaming like "nooooooo why meeee," because just before this game we were talking about how Johnny likes to betray everyone in orgs so now I'm like, please just let me win one org I got Ryan V casted in Bermuda you owe me.

The nice thing about not going to tribal council is that it really gives you the time to flex that social game and work on building up relationships, which is super important early in the game.

me doing this 4 hours before tribal is a mood but uhm ahem in conclusion, i've heard 8 names this round and let me breakdown how and why begin: i tell nick i think first boot should be someone who didn't compete, and then narrow it down to jayden or zach nick tells me he's been pushing for jayden and that drew is on board and is working on zach jayden comes to me saying he knows he's in trouble and asking me what to do, he reveals that runs ratted out nick about targeting him i tell nick runs ratted him out nick reveals to me that runs has been pushing me to everyone (confirmed by Drew, and later Jayden, as well) i confront rataways subtly and he insinuates that his loyalty is to me and that we're friends and my BS alarm goes flying off the charts rataways thinks he's sly but he's not end: im voting rataways and got confirmation from jayden and drew that they'd do the same....currently working on nick who has supposedly already told zach to vote runs as well if everybody minus rataways isn't a completely shady bitch, this should be an easy 5-1 with rataways thinking he somehow has votes on me and i'll probs get idoled out but w/e. i'm not going to lose my sanity trying to beg rataways not to vote me, idc. oh and i threw the immunity challenge cuz tribal seemed fun (and boi it is!)

Well I wasn’t the first person evicted so I consider this season an accomplishment. I’m trying to attach myself to Ford, since he’s completely new.

Alright hold on a second. 2nd day. 2nd conversation with JG. AND its like day & night. He seems pretty chill :). MAYBE HE WAS JUST BUSY WITH FORTNITE (what I as a gamer understand. I mean.. you gotta set priorities.. right?). Just wanted to clarify, so I don't come over as a dick at the end of the season. In case we end up being best friends *shrugs*

#outwitoutplayoutrunthewitchking

[nervousnightowl]

Paranoid Eyes (Part 2/Conclusion)

Essay #5

Prompt: Story of your choice. I chose to extend on my second essay, the story of the paranoid drug dealer who witnesses a murder.

I saw it.

I saw the cold-blooded murder of Jim Teddy and I didn’t do anything about it. I saw what the news outlets were talking about, I saw what they were covering on TV with my own two eyes.

I’d never witnessed a murder before. Surprising, considering my profession in selling drugs; I’d been forewarned by acquaintances that I’d see it and probably worse. But I’ve only been in the industry for two months—I hadn’t seen so much as someone trying to rob me, which was common or so I’d been told.

It was another drug deal. I wasn’t close enough to confirm but it was evident that a drug deal was taking place, it had all the signs; both men hidden in an alleyway, hoods up to remain unseen, they seemed to shake hands but it was an exchange of cash for product. I’d been in that position myself plenty of times. I don’t know what the hell I was doing in that alley in the first place.

But something happened. There was an altercation; it sounded like they were yelling at each other. I was frozen in horror at the corner to enter the alleyway. Maybe I was on my way to meet a customer, maybe I was taking a different route to get home because the last client I’d had that day had me wondering if he was following me. Whatever the reason, I was there when Jim Teddy got murdered. I didn’t intervene, I just called the police and left an anonymous tip and walked home a little faster that day.

It’d been a week since then. I couldn’t stop thinking about it. It wasn’t as bloody as I had anticipated; the killer, the drug dealer, must have known what he was doing. I knew Jim Teddy in high school. Good kid. Sad that he’d turned to buying drugs—sad that I’d turned to selling them, but at least it was more expected from a high school dropout. But Jim Teddy was valedictorian. He deserved better.

Why had I witnessed his murder?

The most likely reason was because it was a setup: I was supposed to see that murder. Despite only two months selling, I’d made a lot of enemies. It came with the job. A lot of people—a lot of other sellers—wanted rid of me because I was taking their business away. It was a warning of what was to come for me if I didn’t stop selling. Maybe if I stopped selling, too.

Thirteen days later, they found Jim Teddy’s killer. I was in a bar downtown when I heard the news. People crowded around the television; Boston had been captivated by the story. I stayed in the back so no one could get a good look at my face. I hadn’t killed him, but I did leave the anonymous tip. I thought maybe the police would come looking for me. They didn’t.

It was some guy I didn’t know by the name of Roscoe Hill. I felt relief wash over me—I don’t know if it was because I was glad Jim Teddy’s killer was getting brought to justice or because I thought that guy was going to take me out next and now he couldn’t. A man around my age spoke at the bar to his friend, loud enough for everyone to here.

“Yeah, that Roscoe dude never liked Jim. Jim got this amazing job at an accounting firm and Roscoe had applied for the same job but got shot down. Blamed Jim for his whole life fallin’ apart and why he’d turned to sellin’ drugs. Guess he’d finally had enough of ‘im and took ‘im out.”

So the murder really didn’t have anything to do with me at all. A big grin grew on my face and I burst into a fit of laughter. All the other bar attendees turned to give me a sour look at how inappropriate it was, but I was already walking out the door.

Guess I’m just paranoid.

After the funeral, I’d forgotten all about the incident. Sure, it was sad to see Jim Teddy gone so soon… but I was never particularly close with the guy. I did attend his wake though, even if I did keep a comfortable distance the whole time. I didn’t even talk to anyone—only paid my respects in the front lawn. I didn’t want to get too close; there were too many people from high school and most of them wanted nothing to do with me after high school. The feeling was mutual.

It was easy to slip back into my usual routine: sleep during the day and sell during the night was the gist of it. That included eating, drinking, shitting, and pissing. I didn’t really do much else—there was no reason to. I didn’t have a girlfriend and my relationship with my parents was complicated to say the least. The last I communicated with my mother I confessed to seeing Jim die and cried to her over a voicemail about all the details, but other than that, we had not spoken in months. The only person I was ever looking out for was myself, and I was okay with that.

My mother had one of her calling spells. Every now and then, it seemed like every other month, she would call me nine or ten times in a day before finally giving up. And she wouldn’t call again until the next time. Sometimes she’d leave voicemails saying how much she missed her son, and how she had something important to tell me. ‘Something important’ probably meant lecturing me about where my life had ended up and I had heard enough of that talk from her to last me the rest of my life.

Eventually, I met a girl. Jane. She had blonde hair that was shorter than mine and piercing green eyes. We connected right away, or at least we did from my perspective. She was a buyer, which probably wasn’t the best way to be meeting chicks but I wasn’t complaining. We had too much in common, connected too well for me to worry about the circumstances under which we’d met.

Jane moved in with me after a week of dating. Irrational, in retrospect, but I was in love with her. She would leave the house at night at the same time as me, but she would go dancing. I didn’t ask any questions with how much money she brought in.

One morning I woke up late and went to the bathroom and found her with a needle in her arm. It disgusted me, and I felt immediately guilty for it. Who was I to judge her with my profession? She cried and begged me not to kick her out. I told her I wouldn’t if she would quit.

As winter approached, business picked up. Some acquaintances I’d made on the street who also sold said it was because the cold weather trapped people inside with nothing to do, so they usually turned to drugs for entertainment. Winter had always been my favorite season until then. I was happy for the money, of course, but it was depressing how much people relied on what I sold them. I always forgot about that depression when all my bills were paid.

Six whole days into winter and I got sick. Whether it was seasonal or the flu or a bug was hard to tell—I avoided the doctor at all costs and this time was no different. I laid in bed the entire time and Jane was kind enough to take care of me.

“There’s a snowstorm comin’,” she said, the news playing faintly on the TV in the background.

I groaned in response, not really caring. I’d have to get back to work soon and make up what money I’d missed during such a crucial week.

“D’you watch the news?” She asked.

“Nu-uh.”

I was thankful for the warning, at least.

After I had fully recovered, I was back on the streets again. Most of my customers at that point were regulars, men (and a few women) who I had become pretty familiar with. I preferred it because it meant less suspicion to be had and less to worry about. That’s why when a stranger approached me, I was taken aback and defensive.

“What’d’ya got?” The voice grunted.

I blinked at the man whose hood was pulled up and squinted to try and get a good look at him. The snowfall was thick and fast and made it hard to make out his face.

“What’d ya want?”

Shearing pain surged through my side and my knees buckled, sending me to the ground. The snow padded my fall but soaked through my jeans and my hands went to my side where I found the man’s hand grasping a knife, the blade having disappeared in my flesh.

“I’m sorry, honey.. I really liked ya, too.”

There was a new voice and through my tear-blurred vision I saw Jane smiling down at me. I grunted and tried to ask why, why, but the pain restricted me from doing much of anything. A particularly harsh gust of wind came through and blew the man’s hood off his head, revealing him to me. Roscoe Hill.

I was taken back to a month ago when I witnessed Jim Teddy’s murder, how I knew the perpetrator had looked me dead in the eyes before I ran off, how I knew that there was something familiar in all the death threats I had received about moving out of this territory or else.

And now I understood why Jane obsessed over the news, had made sure I didn’t watch it so I wouldn’t see that Roscoe had been released from prison due to too little evidence connecting him to Jim’s murder. And I understood why my mother had something important to tell me, because she had seen Roscoe’s release and was afraid for her baby boy, knowing I had been the one to turn him in. It all made sense now, and entirely too late.

I gasped loudly as the knife was jerked out. Roscoe placed his fingertips to my forehead and gave a gentle push, knocking me into the snow. With every blink and every painful intake of breath, I was losing vision, and soon they were out of my sight and I was alone.

I guess I wasn’t so paranoid, after all.

—

The steady beep of the heart monitor woke me from my slumber and I groaned immediately in pain, my voice rough and gritty from not having spoken in a while. I was lying in a hospital bed with my mother by my side, my hand in hers. She burst into tears when she saw my eyes had opened and I closed them again, this time to relish that life had not escaped me early like it had Jim Teddy.

#short story #essay #creative writing