i had my coffee this morning

my therapist asked me

Whats missing from your life?

I thought about this question for a long time after you asked me. And after days of racking my brain I still had not come up with an answer, that is until I was standing in line at Dunkin Donuts this morning waiting to order my coffee as I do nearly every morning. When there was an elderly couple in front of me, they were laughing with each other, and it made me smile. There I was being pessimistic because it was 7 in the morning and I was so overly tired and in a bad mood. But they were standing there as though there was no where in the world they would rather be. And I thought to myself I wonder what its been like, sharing a cup of coffee with the same person for that many years. And that’s when it dawned on me. I knew what was missing.
Seems like a pretty simple answer, huh? But I don’t necessarily mean love in the way youre probably thinking about it. I mean it in the simpliest of ways, in the “drive safely”, “text me when you make it home”, the “I hope youre doing okay”, or “have a good day”. I mean it in the sense of friendship, companionship, dependency, empathy, and affection. I mean love in every sense of the form. I mean It in the having someone to turn to on your darkets of days, or someone to share the brightest of ones with. I mean it in the singing in the passenger seat of your car kinda love, or the eat frozen yogurt and cry on your bad days.
But most importantly, the form of love I am missing, is self love. Many times I am so concerned with being there for others or trying to help everyone around me, bringing them up, that I forget about me too. i think that’s why i keep looking for people. because i’m looking for that love that’s missing from my life in someone else. and i keep being let down because no one is going to love me the way that i should love me. I wanna be so content within myself that I don’t look for these things in someone else anymore. I wanna sing in the car by myself, I wanna buy the elderly couples coffees and I wanna be okay knowing im going to drink mine by myself.

I like to think that Rita Skeeter totally lost whatever renown she had after the war and so Harry and Ginny and the others like to pick up her stories for fun without worrying about the effect it’ll have on their image? Like Harry just idly turns a page every morning and goes, “Oh, we’re getting a divorce.”
And Ginny yawns as she fetches two coffee mugs and says, “Is it because I’m snogging Neville?”
“No,” says Harry, “it’s because I’m snogging Neville.”
And Ginny slams down her mug and says, “Goddamnit, Harry, let me have my affair in peace, would you?”

Please Don't Talk To Me Until I've Had My Morning Coffee And Morning 30 Second Screech Of Terror
Please Don't Talk To Me Until I've Had My Morning Coffee And Morning 30 Second Screech Of Terror

I probably shouldn’t have bought a subwoofer because now my instinct is to just make really loud abrasive stuff that blows your fucking head off with bass

Day Forty-Six

-I began this job hesitant to accept even a sample from Starbucks due to my distaste for coffee. This morning I entered the break room, went directly to the new Keurig, and made myself a cup of coffee to prepare myself for my shift. I am not proud of who I have become.

-I witnessed a man with a long, tightly-woven braid, Birkenstock sandals, pristine white sweatpants, and a clip-on phone holster hanging from his pocket. He is a man with a story and I hope to learn it.

-A man clad in overalls and a graphic tee came through my lane at eleven in the morning, clutching onto a bottle of wine he had brought with him, striking fear into the hearts of myself and all others who experience farmer phobias.

-An old woman became very concerned when I asked her for her age when purchasing an M-rated video game. It was only a formality for the computer, but she began asking if this was standard practice if she tried to purchase it at any other store. I am not going to say that she was, in fact, two adolescent boys in a trench coat and wig, but, if she was, I have to respect their honesty in hesitating to use a fake age after going this far.

-A mother caught her four year-old daughter attempting to shoplift a Trolls mystery pack under her shirt. The mother was mortified. The daughter, only slightly put off. I could tell she was already planning her next heist, quickly building her way up to the Louvre. 

-I rang up an elderly woman for $60 of Minions trading cards. I am not mad at her, but I am certainly disappointed.

-I noticed a woman storming into the store. I turned to her. She demanded to know where the barista was at the Starbucks which she had not had time to look at, let alone approach. Seeing the barista coming, I informed her that someone would be there momentarily. She then hurried out of the door, leading me to believe her question was one borne not from desire of coffee, but from fear of baristas.

-I taught another youth the humor and joy of sticking one’s tongue out to others. This time, however, the parents were thrilled to no end. All of my work has been validated and I shall continue my mission to provide this skill set to all by the age of five.

-I found myself faced with an impossible moral conundrum: do I place a purchased bag inside of a bag? Upon consultation, I found the guest to be as stumped as I. I do not believe there is a right answer to this, and yet, I feel that I was definitively wrong.

-I assisted a guest whose voice was befitting only of a gentlemanly cartoon bullfrog with a top hat and monocle. Coming out of a small elderly man, it was slightly off-putting.

-I found myself given the unfortunate fortune of seeing that a guest was sexting. I have little to say on this, other than he seemed to be taking the time to compose lengthy replies, so either he was being an overachiever or the recipient had to sift through a lot of fluff to find what they wanted.

-A woman, angry with the card reader for taking a moment longer than she had wanted, growled through gritted teeth of her hatred for the machine over and over until it finally allowed her to remove her card. I made sure to hand her the receipt as swiftly and eye contactlessly as possible, as I was certain the demon within her body was equally infuriated with me.

-A new cryptid has been discovered in my store. It appears as an elderly man with looks highly suggestive of a Trump supporter. It can be found lumbering among the checkout lanes, raising a bag of popcorn to its face in order to snatch a single piece out with its speckled tongue.

Dear Blexa,

You wake up every morning to find yourself alone again. When was the last time you had any real sleep? You are tired half of the time. Coffee is no longer a maybe. Hell, even your tears are caffeinated. Darling, I don’t know how you’re able to function… Once upon a time, you said that my heart was too big. So I give and give. I’m starting to notice something. You are just like me. You give until it hurts. You are more trial than error. Why? Because if it works, it works. If it doesn’t? There’s no need to dwell on it. That’s your philosophy. It’s also your personality. You’re the afterglow of the Northern Lights. You’re the parts of a dream that we always remember to jot down. You’re the warm and fuzzy feeling of a blanket once it’s out of the dryer– it always feels brand new. You won’t sleep tonight. You’ll try, but you won’t. You don’t even sleep on your bed anymore– it’s always the couch. Sleep is an act and you can only hope that those five cups of coffee has finally left the stage. Some nights, you sing alone. Some nights you pray, are they ever answered? Most nights… you are alone. Just you. Your busy phone, but it’s never him– and if it is him, it’s not him. You’re awake again. 1AM. 2AM. 3AM. 4AM. Is there a difference at this point? You know… sometimes you fall for people– but occasionally… they fall for you. And even then… you still need your coffee. To keep up with them. To keep up with yourself… you need to be awake. Maybe that’s why you can’t sleep… you’re so happy that they exist… you forget that you do too. Do me a favor. Sleep. Get some rest tonight. Not for me. Not for him. Not because of anything really… you just need to cool off. How can you be there for everyone if you’re only sleeping 2 hours a day?

p.s.– you are important too!!

Stiles knew he was in love with Derek when he started making tea for him in the morning while he made his own coffee.

He didn’t tell him until a few months later when Derek handed him a mug of coffee just the way Stiles likes it.

Derek got a sleepy little smile on his face and said, “I know. You don’t make tea for just anyone.”

“You made my coffee right,” Stiles said with a smile into his mug.

“I had to tell you I love you too somehow,” Derek said, leaning over and kissing Stiles softly on the lips before he goes to get ready for the day.

Mornings with the RFA(V/Saeran)

MOD SAERAN HERE :D i decided to do a random gif HC because i need to clear my mind :) 


  • Each and every morning is always full of laughter 
  • expect a ton of playful teasing and kisses 
  • every moment is filled with smiles :) 

Originally posted by holms33-blog

Originally posted by astrology-gifs



Originally posted by perfectfeelings


Originally posted by stimulatedman


  • YALL WENT TO SLEEP!!!????\
  • NOPE

Originally posted by sumusboni

Originally posted by youtubersandothers


  • every morning was amazing between the two of you 
  • its always filled with laughter
  • they always say laughter is the best medicine!! :D 
  • but  you know 
  • yall had coffee together 

Originally posted by girly-lovee

Originally posted by pimpmybear


  • this is how you wake up every morning c,: 
  • you pretend to hate it 
  • but he knows and you know YOU LOVE IT 
  • also 
  • he has his own way of sending you off to work c;

Originally posted by pleasingpics

Originally posted by perfectfeelings


  • he loves waking up in your arms 
  • he sees it as a beautiful blessing C,: 
  • best believes he records almost every morning 
  • when you are away on a business trip
  • or visiting family
  • he watches them because he misses you so much 

Originally posted by loveviral

Originally posted by irasshaiii


  • your guys mornings are peaceful 
  • just the two of you slowly waking up 
  • he loves feeling your skin because it reminds him that you are real 
  • his personal angel 
  • did i mention 
  • that it takes you guys forever 
  • to get out of bed xD 

Originally posted by painfulblisss

Originally posted by loveviral


Klaus x Reader

Requested by Anon

“(Y/N) what a lovely sight to see so early in the morning.” Kol declared as he came down the stairs to find you and Klaus sat at the breakfast table.

“Kol, ravishing as ever.” You hummed sarcastically as he offered you more coffee.

“Why do I not get greeted in the same manner.” Klaus huffed and you snickered as Kol span to face him.

“My dearest brother, time has blessed your face, you have not gained a wrinkle since the dawn of time.” Kol hummed in an old timey voice which had you doubled over in laughter.

“Do you not have other places to be?” Klaus snapped and Kol shrugged.

Keep reading


Originally posted by jeonsshi

Note: This is so out of order, but this was supposed to be a scene from a super long modern day royalty AU I had planned. Basically, you’re the new crown princess of a country because your sibling abdicates from the throne over INSTAGRAM and… arranged marriage…etc. Anyway, this is just a short thing I wrote. I had to post. Thanks @nottodayjeon and @hayjeon for proofing and feedback. 

Summary: You’re too busy these days to have a decent meal with your husband let alone spend quality time with him, but Yoongi is determined to make things work. 

Pairing: Yoongi x Reader
Rating: M
Genre: Modern Royalty AU
Warnings: sexual content
Word Count: 2723




“My approval ratings are down,” you huff, scrolling through the media summary your secretary had prepared for you as you walk into the kitchen. You know Yoongi will be here in the mornings, hovering over the pot of coffee he prefers to brew himself.

“Well good morning to you too,” Yoongi sniffs, frowning at the way you’re immersed in the news without even the smallest glance in his direction. He hands you a cup of coffee made just the way you like it (splash of milk, no sugar).

You take the cup with an absentminded “thanks” said in a soft tone, too distracted by the polling data showing a dip in approval after the news of your impending ascension to the throne was released. It hurt a little that a percentage of the people liked you well enough as a princess, but wouldn’t support the idea of you as an active, ruling queen.

“Put the tablet down. No reading the news until after you give me a morning kiss.” You nearly jump out of your skin when Yoongi sidles up behind you to kiss your neck softly. “Tablet. Down. Now.” And who are you to deny your husband when he orders so nicely?

Keep reading

[march study challenge] • 10/03/17

Day 10: handwriting

Today after my biology exam (and heaps of stress!) I just felt like winding down and taking a break. The past few days have been very hard on my sleep patterns (I’m thinking of Wednesday night in particular where I slept four hours and had three coffees the morning after!) and I always start to feel it at the end of a long week. As soon as I came home, I caved and took an earth-shattering nap, but I’m still so flipping tired. Complementing my lazy day is a cardigan I wore all afternoon, my chemistry notes with my handwriting on them (so I’m still passing today’s challenge!) and everything else laid out on the bed because my bed is the best friend of all. Who needs desks when you have comfy duvets and fluffy pillows?

ps. I’m re-reading this and you can hear my sleep deprivation in my awkward choice of words

Practical Magic: Coffee in Spellwork

The night before Samhain this year, I held a 12-hour candle vigil for my ancestors. Those who know me understand that I am more than capable of staying up very late, and I usually don’t make it to bed until around 3 in the morning. However, staying up ALL night without at least getting a nap in the morning is particularly difficult. So of course, aside from the candle and my Book of Shadows, my best friend was the coffee pot.

My relationship with coffee is a long and caring one. I’ve had expensive coffees and cheap coffees, and I have been known to visit coffee shops simply to sample an espresso or a cappuccino and decide whether that cafe will be a new haunt. And while I tend to be a bit of a “foodie snob” as some of my friends call me, my love of coffee overrides the derision that many other coffee lovers have for cheap coffees like Folgers. Only the watered down or burnt fast food or gas station coffees earn my scorn, as not enough love and care is put into the creation of this divine beverage.

But I digress.

The origins of coffee, I find, are rather humorous. According to legend, a goat herder in Africa had approached a shaman, concerned about the berries and beans that his goats had been eating. They would eat these berries and begin acting strangely, with bouts of energy followed by lethargy.

Upon hearing the herder’s story and looking over the berries, the shaman cast the berries into the fire, warning that the herder should keep the goats away from the berries, as evil spirits clearly inhabit the fruits and are possessing the goats. But as the beans roasted in the flames, they gave off a delightful smell, and the shaman was intrigued. He ground the beans up and created a tea from them, and thus the first cup of coffee was brewed.

Whether the account is true or not, it speaks to the magical qualities of the world’s most popular energy drink. I find that coffee is as powerful as sage, and as multipurpose as quartz in its witchy properties. But to get a good idea of what coffee is capable of, I feel it is best to break it up based on how the coffee is prepared - whether we’re talking about the drink, the grounds, or both.

The Drink

Perhaps the most ubiquitous use for coffee after one has brewed a cup is for energy. Cars line up at drive-thru cafe’s all over the United States in the early mornings simply to get that caffeine high that’ll get the day started. And while this is understandable, for me the caffeine isn’t enough (I am a caffeine addict, after all… one cup of coffee isn’t going to do anything if I rely upon the caffeine alone!).

Like tea, you can empower your coffee with intent and emotion, channeling visualizations of being energized, awake, and alert into the brew before savoring its rich, bitter flavor. But being energized physically isn’t the only form of alertness that coffee can gift to the witch. I have found that empowering the coffee for psychic awareness - for opening the Third Eye - is exceptionally useful. And for someone like me who drinks coffee as a way of winding down before bed, this is particularly useful for making dreams more vivid and memorable or for helping make astral travel easier and more efficient.

But the way you brew your coffee can even impact spellwork! In some traditions, empowering iced or cold coffees can be useful for more reflective purposes, or for using a spell that can be nice and slow rather than speedy. Espresso, on the other hand, is for quick and hot spells that you need quick results for, or for enhancing concentration (imagine drinking espresso, surrounded by rosemary plants in a garden as you study! I shudder happily at the thought!).

As we begin to look toward the grounds, I feel it makes sense to look at divination before switching over to that subject. Just as tea leaves can be read, those swirls of loose coffee grounds in the bottom of the cup can be used in the same manner. I find this is especially useful if the beverage was brewed in a French press - channel some intent while pressing the coffee, and this is even more useful!

The Grounds

Where to begin! Coffee grounds have so many practical uses! Rather than tossing them in the trash, if some grounds are washed into a disposal and then the disposal turned on, they’ll help break up any blockages as if gently scouring the blades, and they’ll help make the drain smell a bit more pleasant than before. Composting coffee grounds is especially recommended, as the grounds quickly degrade and release nitrogen back into the soil! (Coffee - it’s what plants crave!)

If faced with too many ants in the garden, a coffee solution along with coffee grounds can be used to help lessen the critters’ interest in your fruits and vegetables (though in my experience, this is more effective when trying to keep cats from turning your flower beds into a litter box - I prefer using peppermint oil to deter ants).

All of the uses for grounds that I had mentioned above can be coupled with empowering with intent and visualization. But they aren’t the only magical uses. Using fine ground coffee in loose incense is a great way of clearing psychic blockages and increasing alertness. In addition, if making a witch or mojo bag, adding coffee beans or grounds is a great way of empowering the spell and lending it more energy, much as can be done with juniper or quartz. When feeding your bag, or when feeding your spells in general, you can provide offerings of coffee to give your magick that extra umph that it needs if you find that the spell is starting to stagnate or go stale.

In conclusion…

While I have not been able to find any associations between coffee and any particular god or goddess in lore, this lovely beverage certainly has a lot of appeal, and you can use coffee in relation to either God or Goddess as however you feel resonates with you best. In terms of astrological association, the bean is certainly connected with Mercury and Uranus, but as I am not one for delving into making my magick overly complicated, I use coffee whenever the hell I feel like it! As I write, I’ve got a steaming cup within reach!

This is most definitely a magickal brew for the practical witch, and is low-key enough for use in the workplace or even - for those who are either not yet out of the broom closet, or who are Christian witches - in a place where magick isn’t necessarily understood, such as at a church!

So charge up that intent, cast your spell, and stir some sugar or cream into that brew as you desire, brothers and sisters! Coffee is here as further proof that the gods love us and want us to be happy!

Blessed Be! )O(

  • *4.20am*
  • Molly: *snoring*
  • -phone buzzes-
  • Molly: *jerks awake; gropes for her phone*
  • Your arse bothers me. SH
  • Molly: *confused; typing* It's four in the morning. MHx
  • It still bothers me. SH
  • Molly: *sighs* Why? MHx
  • Because it's cute. SH
  • Molly: *raises an eyebrow* Okay. MHx
  • Want to touch it. SH
  • Molly: *smiles* Where are you? MHx
  • Not sure. It's dark. Someone's cat is here. SH
  • Molly: *groans; gets out of bed, puts on a dressing gown and leaves her bedroom*
  • Sherlock: *lying on her sofa; nodding off with his phone in his hand and Toby in his lap*
  • Molly: *folds her arms* How did you get in?
  • Sherlock: *sits up; grins* Molly! You came.
  • Molly: *giggles* Come on *holds out her hand*
  • Sherlock: *takes her hand; yawns* Are we going to touch each other's butts now?
  • Molly: *shakes her head* The case went well, I see.
A Note From Gerard Way about My Chemical Romance's breakup if you haven't read it yet

A note from Gerard Way about My Chemical Romance’s breakup:

A Vigil, On Birds and Glass.
I woke up this morning still dreaming, or not fully aware of myself just yet. The sun poked through the windows, touching my face, and then a deep sadness overcame me, immediately, bringing me to life and realization- My Chemical Romance had ended.
I walked downstairs to do the only thing I could think of to regain composure-
I made coffee.
As the drip began, in that kind of silence that only happens in the morning, and being the only one awake, I stepped outside my home, leaving the door open behind me. I looked around and began to breathe. Things looked to be about the same- a beautiful day.
As I turned to step back into the house I heard sound from within, a chirp and a rustle. And I noticed a small brown bird had flown into the library. Naturally, I panicked. I knew I had to see the bird to safety and I knew I had to retain the order of things in our home, and he very well couldn’t take up residency with us. I chased him (still assuming he was a he) into my office, where I have these very large windows.
Just then, and luckily, I heard Lindsey’s footsteps coming down the stairs, and naturally being composed as she is, she grabbed a blanket and stepped into the office. He was impossible to catch, and I began to open the windows, via Lindsey’s direction, only to find out they were screened. The bird began to fly into the glass, over and over and in all different directions.
I heard another set of footsteps, Bandit’s, running down the stairs in anticipation of the new day. Her entrance into the situation caused just the right amount of chaos (she was very excited to meet the bird) and we found ourselves chasing the bird into the living room. Knowing that this where it could potentially get sticky, being the high ceilings and the beams to perch on, I opened the front door as Lindsey did her best to encourage our new friend out the door. After some coaxing, flying, chirping, a wrong turn back into the library and a short goodbye to Bandit, he simply hopped out the front door- taking off on the fifth leap.
We cheered.
I was no longer sad.
I didn’t realize it, but I stopped being sad the minute that bird had come into my life, because there was something that needed doing, a small vessel to aid and an order to keep. I closed the door. I decided to write the letter I always knew I would.


It is often my nature to be abstract, hidden in plain sight, or nowhere at all. I have always felt that the art I have made (alone or with friends) contains all of my intent when executed properly, and thus, no explanation required. It is simply not in my nature to excuse, explain, or justify any action I have taken as a result of thinking it through with a clear head, and in my truth.
I had always felt this situation involving the end of this band would be different, in the eventuality it happened. I would be cryptic in its existence, and open upon its death.

The clearest actions come from truth, not obligation. And the truth of the matter is that I love every one of you.
So, if this finds you well, and sheds some light on anything, or my personal account and feelings on the matter, then it is out of this love, mutual and shared, not duty.
This was always my intent.

My Chemical Romance: 2001-2013

We were spectacular.
Every show I knew this, every show I felt it with or without external confirmation.
There were some clunkers, sometimes our secondhand gear broke, sometimes I had no voice- we were still great. It is this belief that made us who we were, but also many other things, all of them vital-
And all of the things that made us great were the very things that were going to end us-

Fiction. Friction. Creation. Destruction. Opposition. Aggression. Ambition. Heart. Hate. Courage. Spite. Beauty. Desperation. LOVE. Fear. Glamour. Weakness. Hope.


That last one is very important. My Chemical Romance had, built within its core, a fail-safe. A doomsday device, should certain events occur or cease occurring, would detonate. I shared knowledge of this “flaw” within weeks of its inception.
Personally, I embraced it because, again, it made us perfect. A perfect machine, beautiful, yet self aware of it’s system. Under directive to terminate before it becomes compromised. To protect the idea- at all costs. This probably sounds like something ripped from the pages of a four-color comic book, and that’s the point.
No compromise. No surrender. No fucking shit.

To me that’s rock and roll. And I believe in rock and roll.

I wasn’t shy about who I said this to, not the press, or a fan, or a relative. It’s in the lyrics, it’s in the banter. I often watched the journalists snicker at mention of it, assuming I was being sensational or melodramatic (in their defense I was most likely dressed as an apocalyptic marching-band leader with a tear-away hospital gown and a face covered in expressionist paint, so fair enough).
I’m still not sure if the mechanism worked correctly, because it wasn’t a bang but a much slower process. But still the same result, and still for the same reason-

When it’s time, we stop.

It is important to understand that for us, the opinion on whether or not it is in fact time does not transmit from the audience. Again, this is to protect the idea for the benefit of the audience. Many a band have waited for external confirmation that it is time to hang it up, via ticket sales, chart positioning, boos and bottles of urine- input that holds no sway for us, and often too late when it comes anyway.

You should know it in your being, if you listen to the truth inside you. And voice inside became louder than the music.

There are many reasons My Chemical Romance ended. The triggerman is unimportant, as was always the messengers- but the message, again as always, is the important thing. But to reiterate, this is my account, my reasons and my feelings. And I can assure you there was no divorce, argument, failure, accident, villain, or knife in the back that caused this, again this was no one’s fault, and it had been quietly in the works, whether we knew it or not, long before any sensationalism, scandal, or rumor.

There wasn’t even a blaze of glory in a hail of bullets…

I am backstage in Asbury Park, New Jersey. It is Saturday, May 19th, 2012 and I am pacing behind a massive black curtain that leads to the stage. I feel the breeze from the ocean find its way around me and I look down at my arms, which are covered in fresh gauze due to a losing battle with a heat rash, which had been a mysterious problem in recent months. I am normally not nervous before a show but I am certainly filled with angry butterflies most of the time. This is different- a strange anxiety jetting through me that I can only imagine is the sixth sense one feels before their last moments alive. My pupils have zeroed-out and I have ceased blinking. My body temperature is icy.
We get the cue to hit the stage.

The show is… good. Not great, not bad, just good. The first thing I notice take me by surprise is not the enormous amount of people in front of us but off to my left- the shore and the vastness of the ocean. Much more blue than I remembered as a boy. The sky is just as vibrant. I perform, semi-automatically, and something is wrong.
I am acting. I never act on stage, even when it appears that I am, even when I’m hamming it up or delivering a soliloquy. Suddenly, I have become highly self-aware, almost as if waking from a dream. I began to move faster, more frantic, reckless- trying to shake it off- but all it began to create was silence. The amps, the cheers, all began to fade.

All that what left was the voice inside, and I could hear it clearly. It didn’t have to yell- it whispered, and said to me briefly, plainly, and kindly- what it had to say.

What it said is between me and the voice.

I ignored it, and the following months were full of suffering for me- I hollowed out, stopped listening to music, never picked up a pencil, started slipping into old habits. All of the vibrancy I used to see became de-saturated. Lost. I used to see art or magic in everything, especially the mundane- the ability was buried under wreckage.

Slowly, once I had done enough damage to myself, I began to climb out of the hole. Clean. When I made it out, the only thing left inside was the voice, and for the second time in my life, I no longer ignored it- because it was my own.

There are many roles for all of us to play in this ending. We can be well-wishers, ill-wishers, sympathizers, vilifiers, comedians, rain clouds, victims-

That last one, again, is important. I have never thought myself a victim, nor my comrades, nor the fans- especially not the fans. For us to adopt that role right now would legitimize everything the tabloids have tried to name us. More importantly, it completely misses the point of the band. And then what have we learned?

With honor, integrity, closure, and on no one’s terms but our own- the door closes.

And another opens-

This morning I awoke early. I quickly brushed my teeth, threw on some baggy jeans, and hopped in my car. I gently sped down the 405 through the morning fog to a random parking lot in Palo Verde, where I was to meet a nice gentleman named Norm. He was older, and a self-proclaimed “hippie” but he also had the energy of Sixteen year old in a garage-rock band. The purpose of the meeting was the delivery of an amplifier into my possession. I had recently purchased the amp from him and we both agreed that shipping would jostle the tubes- so he was kind enough to meet me in the middle.
A Fender Princeton Amp from 1965, non reverb. A beautiful little device.

He showed me the finer points, the speaker, the non-grounded plug, the original label and the chalk mark of the man or woman who built it-

“This amp talks.” he said.
I smiled.
We got coffee, talked about gold-foil pickups and life. We sat in the car and played each other music we had made. We parted ways, promising to stay in touch, I drove home.

When I wanted to start My Chemical Romance, I began by sitting in my parent’s basement, picking up an instrument I had long abandoned for the brush- a guitar. It was a 90’s Fender Mexican Stratocaster, Lake Placid Blue, but in my youth I had decided it was too clean and pretty so I beat it up, exposing some of the red paint underneath the blue- the color it was meant to be. Adding a piece of duct tape on the pick guard, it felt acceptable. I plugged this into a baby Crate Amp with built in distortion and began the first chords of Skylines and Turnstiles.

I still have that guitar, and it’s sitting next to The Princeton.
He has a voice, and I would like to hear what it has to say.

In closing, I want to thank every single fan. I have learned from you, maybe more than you think you’ve learned from me. My only regret is that I am awful with names and bad with goodbyes. But I never forget a face, or a feeling- and that is what I have left from all of you.
I feel Love.

I feel love for you, for our crew, our team, and for every single human being I have shared the band and stage with-

Ray. Mikey. Frank. Matt. Bob. James. Todd. Cortez. Tucker. Pete. Michael. Jarrod.

Since I am bad with goodbyes. I refuse to let this be one. But I will leave you with one last thing-

My Chemical Romance is done. But it can never die.
It is alive in me, in the guys, and it is alive inside all of you.
I always knew that, and I think you did too.

Because it is not a band-
it is an idea.


001. spaces

prompt: the space in the blanket between you and boyfriend!jimin that lets the cold air in, just had a fight so he’s mad or you’re mad and one or the other are fighting the desire to snuggle up for warmth. hope i explained it well! love your work ♡

There had been lots of instances where Jimin and I had fought. Like when I replaced the sugar with salt making his coffee taste extra bitter and spoiling his already foul mood on that particular Monday morning. Or when he had replaced my shampoo for blue hair dye and I had emerged from my shower crying. Our pranks were lighthearted and we had always made up before the day ended. 

However, this was new. 

As we lay in bed, Jimin’s body was curled away from mine. He lay on the edge of his side of the bed stretching the blanket as far as it would allow. The space between us letting the cold air caress our bodies robbing our warmth. The purpose of the blanket was questionable as it refused to warm our hearts. 

I gazed at the back of Jimin’s head and pursed my lips, trying to decipher what I had done wrong to make him behave this way. To make him curl so far away from my body as if any contact with my skin would end him. 

My mind wandered to the coincidental meeting I had with Jeongguk. As far as ex-relationships go, ours was the one relationship that had ended with both of us on good terms. So when Jeongguk asked me to have a harmless cup of coffee with him, how could I refuse? As we spoke Jeongguk continued to enlighten me with details on his soon to be fiancée who he was meeting that same evening to propose. 

Just as he had taken my number, to invite both Jimin and I to his wedding, Jimin had appeared. The concern was evident on his face when he saw Jeongguk and I together but he hid it quickly and brushed off any explanation I offered him saying it doesn’t bother him. 

Ah, I’m so dense. Of course he’s bothered. 

I let out a deep sigh and turned away from the ceiling to face Jimin again. I bit my lip and rolled towards Jimin as if I were as sleep. I wrapped my arms around Jimin’s torso, holding my body tightly against him. 

“Yah~ What’re you doing?” Jimin said, attempting to push my arms away. I tightened my arms around him and sighed into his shoulder, pretending to be asleep.

“I know you’re not asleep,” Jimin said, his hands pried weakly at mine, I intertwined our fingers and smiled into his shoulder as he let out a sigh of frustration. 

“I’m asleep,” I mumbled back, caressing the back of his hand with my thumb.

“No, you’re not.” Jimin said bluntly, I frowned at his tone, moving to untangle our limbs. However, he tightened his grasp on my hands, restricting my movements. 

“I know you’re not asleep because whenever you sleep you not only throw your arms around me but also a leg over me, completely immobilizing me.” Jimin said, his usual playful tone slowly creeping back into his voice. I fleetingly kissed the back of his neck, causing a shiver to run through him and wrapped my leg around him. 

“There,” I said, smiling against him. he abruptly let go of my wrist and turned around in my arms to face me, forcing our bodies to mesh perfectly. 

“This is better,” Jimin murmured, brushing his hand across the length of my face. He ran his hand down the length of my arm and intertwined our fingers once again. As I stared at his sleep filled eyes, I bit my lip unable to hold my words in anymore.

 “Jeongguk is engaged,” I blurted. Jimin looked up at me with his eyebrow raised. 

“He asked for my number so that he could invite us both to his wedding.” I continued, squeezing his hand in mine. Jimin’s lips quirked into a small smile as he quietly listened to my outburst.

“I know you said that you weren’t bothered, but I know you. I’ve been with you long enough to know when something has upset you. I’m sorry I didn’t clear this up sooner.” I murmured, my eyes drifting to out intertwined hands. 

“I wasn’t upset with you, I was upset with myself.” Jimin murmured, his hands playing with mine. 

“I was the one that acted like it didn’t bother me in the first place when I was dying of curiosity …and jealousy.” Jimin admitted bashfully, he quietly laughed at himself and ran a hand through his tousled hair. As he moved to turn away from me, I grasped his hand once again and intertwined our fingers. I leaned forward and placed a firm kiss on his unsuspecting lips. As I moved away from him, he gazed into my eyes, searching for an explanation. 

“The spaces between my fingers, in my bed, and in my heart are occupied by you, Park Jimin. I love you now and forever, don’t you ever forget it.”

My Bucky !

Bucky Barnes x reader

Originally posted by itsjustmycrazyvibe

I had the shock of my life that morning.

A girl stood in our kitchen wearing one of Bucky’s shirts.

The shirt I had giving him on his birthday last year. I stood, staring at the girl, the grip on my coffee mug tightening.

“Goodmorning, (Y/N)” Steve said, as he stopped to give a quick peck on my temple before opening the fridge. I just stood, emotionless. And here I was,thinking that maybe Bucky felt the same way about me.

Ha. This changed everything.

Steve had spotted the small pout that I had, and came towards me slowly. Then he noticed the girl. AND the shirt.

“Oh” That was all he could say.

“Hi?” The girl looked at us in confusion, as we stared at her. “Im Marie.We met at the party last night ?” She offered.

Right. Thats where I saw her.Bucky brought her back into the tower ?!

“Are you ok, (Y/N)?” she asked, looking a bit frightened.

All of us looked back hearing a pair a footsteps. Bucky walked into the room with a smile on his face. Only to be met with three non-smiling faces.

“Everything ok ?” He asked, looking at me. I glowered at him, and he took a step back. Steve was trying to catch Bucky’s attention without me noticing. But obviously, I noticed.

Bucky turned to look at Marie, and his eyes widened. His eyes snapped back to me, and he shook his head violently.

“No no no !” He said, holding his hands up. “(Y/N), the shirt-”

Marie caught on all of a sudden.

“Bucky kinda ripped my dress, so I had to borrow one of his shirts ! ” She said, and then both she and Bucky looked me wide eyed.

“Thats just great !” I said, dropping my coffee filled cup into the sink, and storming off to my room, locking it.

Bucky was at my door, banging on it  for a long time. I was on my bed, sobbing. Bucky and I werent dating. But we were bestfriends, always fooling around, and flirting, that people always mistake us for a couple. And it had started to grow on me.

I was in love with Bucky Barnes.

But seeing the girl in that shirt, it just broke my heart. It hurt so much. I missed Bucky suddenly. I made my way to wardrobe, and took out one of Bucky’s pullovers (which I had stolen from him). Removing the shirt I had on, I pulled this on with my shorts and was relieve to find that it still smelled like him.

It has been quiet for a while, and I wondered if Bucky had joined that girl. I tip toed to the door, and opened it slowly, only to find Bucky sitting by my door, leaning against the wall. He looked up, and gave me his tearful puppy eyes. I returned his look, and slowly stood up.

“Can I come in ?” He asked in a small voice.

I nodded, stepping aside to let him in. He sat on my bed, and patted the spot next to him. I closed the door behind me, and joined him.

“(Y/N), please let me explain” Bucky said, pleadingly.

“But why Bucky ? You have no reason to do so ! Its not like we’re dating or anything” I said, my voice cracking towards the end.

I blinked raipdly to prevent the tears for falling.

“Oh God” Bucky groaned. “No baby ! Just let me talk alright ? Please ?” I looked at him, and his gorgeous eyes gave me such a look, I could have died.

I nodded.

“I was talking to this girl, Sam introduced her to me. I was about to come up to bed right after you left. She kinda spilled her wine on my shirt, and you know how expensive it was ! I came up to clean it, and she followed me to help” Bucky said, all in one breath.

I raised my eyebrows, waiting for the next part. Or better say, dreading it.

“I was washing my shirt, and she said she’ll grab a shirt for me, and then she closed the drawer too hard, her dress was stuck in it. I tried to open it, but it just wont open ! And I tried to pull her dress out, but the bloody thing ripped, and it ripped bad !”

I tried hard to control my urge to laugh. Not at the story, but his face. He was truly terrified.

“I told her she could borrow one of my shirts, ‘coz it was already late and everyone had gone to bed, and I stepped in to wash my shirt, and when I came back, she was gone. She slept in the spare room. I swear nothing else happened, and I didnt know it was THAT shirt !”

Bucky took in deep breaths once he stopped talking, and I couldnt help but laugh.

“Aww, Buck” I said, putting my arms around his neck, and pulling him into a hug. His arms wound around my waist, and i felt his breath on my neck.

“Dont ever scare me like that” I whispered, holding him tighter.

“Im sorry” he said, lips brushing my ear.

He slowly pulled me onto his lap, making me straddle him.

“You’re the one I want” Bucky said, with a smile. “And you look way better in my clothes ”

We laughed.

“When did you steal this ?” He asked, rubbing my back.

“None of your business” I said, nuzzling his jaw.

“Is that so ?” “Yes it is”

He smiled again, and I kissed his cheek gently, my lips staying there for a while. “I love you, (Y/N)” He said, his blue eyes locked with my brown ones.

I grinned widely, blushing.

“I love you too”

“Of course you do” Bucky said, pressing his lips on mine.

We had to pull back, since neither of us could stop laughing. I kissed him again, this time more seriously, and it was the most wonderful feeling in the world. The kiss deepened, Bucky flipping me over, and his weight shifted on to me slightly. I adjusted my legs, placing one over his, and his hand immediately went to stroke my thigh, and grabbing it, pulling me closer.

“Hey, (Y/N), where is Buck-” Steve barged into my room, and almost screamed out.

“Oh, you’re here” He managed to say.

“KNOCK you dimwit !” Bucky yelled, rolling off me, and straightening his clothes. I sat up beside him, blushing madly.

“What happened Stevie ?” I asked.

“Oh, Marie left. I had Nat lend her some clothes” Steve said, and he had this smile.

“And she asked if I wanted to go out for coffee sometime” He said, blushing. “Oh wow !” I said, sighing in relief. Bucky laughed.

“She said she’ll bring the shirt over later” Steve said, smirking.

“Oh, you can ask her to keep it” I said shaking my head. “I wont have it here anymore”

“But its my favorite !” Bucky whined.

“I’ll get you a new one !” I said, and Bucky calmed down.

“Ok, you guys carry on” Steve said, waving his hand, and turned to leave.

Just as Steve left, Bucky got up, to lock the door. He turned with a smirk and said, “Where were we ?”

Cups of Coffee and Lazy Mornings

Lin-Manuel Miranda x Reader 

Note: my first Lin fic, I’ve wanted to write Lin for a while but I’ve just never had a good idea for one but this just hit me last night. I hope you don’t mind that it’s on the shorter side and @secretschuylersister the forearm references are all for you.

Dedication: I don’t normally dedicate fics but this one is for my oldest friend Jenna. You’re always there for me and always have been, you let me pull you into the craziness that is the Hamilton fandom, you put up with all my crap and you are the single most supportive person in my life always encouraging me to keep going and do what I love. This is for you Jenna. 

Word Count: 900

Originally posted by hamilfandom

It’s not often that when you tell your husband to stay in bed just a little longer in the morning, that he actually listens and decides to just lie there with you.

These days he’s so busy that he seems to jump out of bed as soon as he opens his eyes, ready to start work on one of the millions of projects he’s working on even before his morning coffee.

But this morning is different, this morning when you hold onto his arm and ask him to just stay with you a little longer he kisses your forehead and wraps his arms around you.

You feel warm, safe and content with the sun peeking in through the gap in the curtains, your husband’s chin resting on the top of your head and his arms around you.

“So I’m finally getting your attention this morning huh?” You tease, smiling as you feel his chest shake gently as he chuckles.

“Well you did make a very compelling argument” he retorts, his voice still scratchy and deep from sleep.

He gently starts to trace patterns into the bare skin of your arm and you just can’t seem to stop your smile from growing even wider.

“All I said was stay” you mutter, suddenly feeling comfortable enough to fall asleep again.

“That is true” he says simply, enjoying the feeling of you tucked up against his chest too much to move.

“Lin if we stay here any longer I’m going to fall asleep again” you point out, trying your best to keep your eyes open.

Keep reading

Headcanon: coffee

I can’t sleep due to the throbbing pain in my foot so have some more mchanzo ramblings.

To Jesse’s surprise, Hanzo likes his coffee sweet and milky – a little coffee with his milk and sugar, Jesse calls it. He’d always expected Hanzo to be the type to drink it black and bitter, so thick you almost had to eat it with a spoon. But he sure does love his sweet drinks – a chai, a mocha, maybe even a dirty chai. If he has a flat white he’ll put at least three spoonfuls of sugar in it to counteract the bitterness. It’s quite endearing, and Jesse learns to love the sweetness of Hanzo’s kisses after they’ve been out for coffee.

Jesse, on the other hand, has terribly unrefined taste in coffee. He drinks instant when they’re on the base – the horrible cheap stuff provided in bulk tins that live in the kitchen for those who can’t be bothered figuring out the coffee machine. Oh sure, he’ll have a long black if he and Hanzo are in an actual coffee shop, but he’s not picky.

Hanzo despises the cheap instant stuff, mostly because it gives Jesse the worst breath in the world. Jesse isn’t allowed anywhere near Hanzo after he’s had his morning coffee, not until he’s brushed his teeth twice and used plenty of mouthwash.