i take my wins where i can get them

Shelter From The Storm

Pairing: John Winchester x Reader
Word count: 1,378
Warnings: Smut. Cussing. Unprotected sex.
Written for my 2,000 Followers Celebration
Requested by: @plaidstiel-wormstache Prompt:Thunderstorm / Quote: “I want you, you want me. What is the problem?”

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anonymous asked:

Orville and the Jims shenanigans!!

Oh my gosh!!

Normally I imagine the Jims are pretty laid back and chill, but pair them up with Orville the red chaos child and they get w i l d.

They end up doing dangerous things like putting sugar in Dark’s coffee or chasing whatever disastrous storms weatherman Jim happens to see.

They love horror games and movies and have movie nights where they guess which characters die first. Newscaster Jim usually wins.

They also take Bing’s skateboard, not to be mean, just to try and see who can do the sickest tricks

Picture this:

Phil Coulson and Melinda May, top of their classes in the Academy, youngest recruits of their time. Known as some of SHIELD’s best and brightest. Experts in strategy, analysis, and hand-to-hand-combat. Specialist and field agent, living legends. The greatest two-man team in the field.

Needing to employ all their training and skills….

Against each other….

In a tiny apartment….

Knocking over lamps and running into the coffee table….

Wrestling relentlessly on the carpet….

To get a hold of the last Oreo.

You Are Watching: GHOST KING (part 8)

“What is the meaning of this?” Hades, or at the moment Nightmare, he chose his name, spoke in a cool demanding voice. Colder than his original voice thanks to the modifier Nico had given him. It made the producers cringe and avoid eye contact.


Nico was sitting in a chair beside his father, arms crossed and though the producers could not see his face, hence not seeing his eyes, they knew he was glaring, they could feel his gaze on them and honestly, it felt as though he was staring into their souls and condemning them to hell or something.


“W-Well,” Mr. Grant, one of the producers spoke up, “ At first it was just to estimate and see if his show would be successful. We had to know that there would be many viewers. But then, well, the fans got really into it, we have over two thousand videos sent in already. We can’t just call off the contest. That could be very bad for your ratings Mr….uh, King.” Grant explained, he didn’t know how but the room seemed to be a bit colder and he could feel both Ghost King and Nightmare glaring at him as though they wanted him to die. It was quite intimidating.


Nico sighed, “I understand.” His voice sent a chill down the producers spines and they audibly gulped. “What I don’t understand is the fact you didn’t ask me before hand to see if I would be comfortable with it. You could have done a different test of sorts but no. You decided on a contest. For my show. Without consulting me.” Hades looked at his son proudly, he was always proud when Nico got into his lawyer mode, as Hades called it.


“W-W-We are sorry, but there is really nothing we can do.”

“No. There is.” Nico insisted.


“You will notify the fans that I will be on the panel of judges, you will warn them that if they win, they will have to sign a waver, if they are younger than eighteen they need their parents permission, and if I deem the location too dangerous or they don’t follow my rules once I’ve given them to them, I get to ask them to leave. And with that. My father and I will take out leave.” Nico stood up and fixed his sweater so the skull design was where it should correctly be, his father followed suit.


“We will be back tomorrow to hear your reply.” Hades announced as he opened the door for his son and then followed him out of the room. Once they left all the producers let out breaths of relief. They had work to do.

_______________________________

All Nico wanted to do was silently fume in his room alone, with no distractions, but no.

Stupid Will Solace had to call him to ask about the English homework with his stupid sleepy voice that had the adorable southern tang in it that without fail made the Italian blush and smile.

“But it’s not due until next week, so don’t stress about it Solace.” He mumbled as he laid on his bed with his phone between his shoulder and ear as he held up his worn out copy of the 10th kingdom. That book, would always brighten his mood.

“Mmkay, well imma head off to bed Neeks. See ya tomorrow.”

“Okay. Goodnight dork.” Nico chuckled softly into the phone as he rolled onto his side and placed his book on his nightstand.

“Goodnight deathboy.” Will whispered before Nico heard the familiar click of the call ending and then placed his phone on the charger.

He crawled under his covers and closed his eyes, wishing for sleep. Yet sleep did not come, not yet at least. His mind was full of contest details. Who would win? What would happen? What if something went wrong? What if the fan got hurt? There was just way too many issues. What if someone he knew won? They would without a doubt know it was him, well if it was one of his friends. He was hoping if a friend did win it would be Jason or Piper since they already knew his secret.

He hated being stressed about things like this. He hated being stressed period. So he allowed his thoughts to travel to a certain blue-eyed blond.

His heart swelled at the thought. His mind thought back to their conversation then to lunch and then he was just fantasizing about them being together. All the dates they could go on. Them cuddling. And then to……inappropriate content. Content that stalled him from sleeping even longer.

He really hated long nights.

But God did he love thinking about Will.

And what it would feel like to kiss him. How warm his hands would feel on Nico’s naturally cool skin. Just many, many things.

He fell asleep to those thoughts.

Finally able to relieve some of his stress, but creating a different kind of stress in its wake.

I-put-the-win-in-winchester Requested: Hi there now that my fevers gone down a bit i wanted to ask a react where their girlfriend gets amnesia from a car crash and doesn't remember them or that shes *gasp* pregnant but the doctor tells them that it will last for up to 3 months

Xiumin:

Xiumin: Thank you doc, I’ll take care of her

Luhan:

Luhan: She’s pregnant too? Does she remember that?

Kris:

Kris: I can wait 3 months

D.O:

D.O: She and the baby are definitely are ok though?

Suho:

Suho: Three… months?

Lay:

Lay: So, will she remember her name? Or where she is? Or her age?

Baekhyun:

Baekhyun: So she won’t remember me for three months? How will I ask her about the baby?

Chen:

Chen: She didn’t lose the baby did she?

Chanyeol:

Chanyeol: I’ll stay with her until she remembers exactly who I am

Tao:

Tao: But she will remember she has a famous partner, right?

Sehun:

Sehun: I’ll bring her flowers every day to remind her of home, and me,

Kai:

Kai: Amnesis for three months can’t be right. Are you sure? Are you even sure she’s pregnant?

Se7en
  1. I got a reminder today that no matter what else I’ve fucked up, at least I got away from the racist shithole where I grew up. So, there’s one major life decision in the Win column.
  2. Two sick kids and an injured wife: my first world problems are trending toward second right now. If I get canned for staying home to take care of them, I can slide right into third.
  3. I’m thinking about starting a side tumblr for talking sportsball/puck since almost everyone here hates sports, and I care about your user experience. But I’ll let you know, because narcissist.
  4. I don’t usually track unfollows, but I got one after that put-a-heart-in-the-askbox thing a couple of weeks ago and it kinda stung.
  5. Here’s a manual for a simple bluetooth device that is over 150 pages long, due to 10 wordy pages being translated to 15 languages. The content is basically “put the battery in and then run an app.” Seems like Ikea coulda got this done with two pictures on a 4x6 card.
  6. It’s coming up on a year since we had to say goodbye to Jake. I should figure out what to do with his ashes. He wasn’t the kind of dog who’d be happy on a shelf in my office.
  7. Tis the season for the strongest, heaviest, brownest, thickest beers. If they made a beer out of black strap molasses and pine tar, I would drink a case of it every night in December. Three weeks till solstice, and relief for my liver.
Interior, Part 2.

A/N: This is a follow-up to a previously posted imagine titled ‘Interior’ which can be found here.

I could tell his eyes were fixated on me as I stood in his living room, a large pad in my hand as I jotted down random notes and messy sketches like an artist inebriated with their work. If a stranger were to glance at the black and white sketches and short hand notes attached to various structures, they may not have understood it but I did.

It seemed every time I moved my feet about the room, his head bobbed in that direction though he sat on the nearby staircase to seem as if he wasn’t really paying me attention. That was how he was since my arrival this morning, alternating between playing on his phone and burning a hole in my back with his gaze.

He couldn’t see the slight hint of a smirk curving my lips as I knew I had his attention, jotting down the colors of window shades that would best match the vision I had begun to conjure up for the home. I had been working like this for hours now, pulling inspiration from places I wasn’t sure I had ever visited outside of my dreams.

Like the Palace of Versailles.

It was the one place, or one of a few remaining on our list, that we had yet to visit together though we had made the promise to one day. That was before our relationship ended and any chance of jetting off to France became obsolete.

Was it bad I was incorporating pieces of my own relationship to a home that was meant to house his new one? I was sure it was but I couldn’t help but close my eyes and picture turning this vast home into a miniature Palace of Versailles, gold, mirrors and intricate details everywhere. I couldn’t afford for it for my own home so I figured it would be of good use here considering Mesut could afford it.

I wrote ‘GOLD’ and underlined it two times with my pencil.

“You should take a break,” I heard Mesut say. I turned and looked over my shoulder, realizing he was now standing and walking towards me.

“Oh no. I’m fine. I’m on a roll.” I turned back to the pad in my hand but he continued to walk over to me in protest, that familiar confidence oozing from his stance and walk.

“You’ve been working for hours now. Come on. At least let me grab you a snack and drink.”

I couldn’t deny that my stomach had begun rumbling for the craving of some sort of lunch or snack so I looked up at him, now standing face to face and nodded. “Okay.” I dropped the pad onto the nearby couch along with my pencil and followed him into the kitchen. I watched as he first grabbed for a glass from the cabinet and walked over to the fridge.

“What would you like? Water, soda…”

“Water is fine.”

“I could make you one of my famous sandwiches…?” He questioned with a smirk and a smile soon replaced it. I giggled some before responding, “God, I miss those.”

“I’ll take that as a yes then.”

He grabbed a water bottle from the fridge and handed it to me before beginning to pick out various ingredients for the sandwich he planned on making me. My stomach rumbled with approval.

“So what kind of ideas do you have for this place?” He questioned as he tossed the ingredients to the empty counter.

“Wouldn’t you like to know? Just know I think you’ll like them.”

With his hands empty, he neared me, now standing close in front of me as I looked up and met his eyes looking down at me. “Yeah?”

“Yeah.” My response wasn’t as confident as before and my head began to drop shyly as if I hadn’t been around this man for years of my life. Mesut didn’t accept my retreat, instead stepping forward and pressing my chin up to get me to look at him. I was sure in that very moment he was going to kiss me as he cornered me against the counter, our bodies pressing up against each other. I could feel the heat of my body intensifying and I was sure his was as well as our stare never broke. I could feel him pressing his hips into me but before the danger could progress further, the click of a lock and a yell jolted us out of our own engagement.

“Mesut!” I could tell immediately it was Mandy, her heels clicking against the marble floors. Mesut reluctantly withdrew from me slowly as if he didn’t care about being caught in that moment though I’m sure he did care. He didn’t utter a response to direct her steps but it was unneeded as soon enough, Mandy appeared in the doorway of the kitchen with a smile, sauntering up to her man and pulling him into a deep kiss or at least deep enough for me to feel like vomiting as I watched.

Mesut withdrew with a silent smile as she began speaking, looking past him to me. “Ah, you’re still here! Always working,” she smiled. “Did you see the notes I left for you?”

“Yes. I did.” The notes were filled with her own suggestions for the home, some I agreed with and some I didn’t but this was her home to decorate not mine.

Mandy turned from me and back to her boyfriend. “I’m going to go upstairs and begin getting ready for the event tonight. It’s going to take me a while,” she giggled before kissing his cheek and walking off and upstairs. After a moment, Mesut turned back to me with a sympathetic smile.

“So…what’s the event?”

“It’s a charity event. A sort of bid on the players sort of thing. Whoever has the highest bid gets a date where they can pretty much do whatever they want with us,” he chuckled. “Within reason of course.”

My eyebrow raised curiously. “Mandy is allowing another woman to take you on a date?” I would never. Even for charity. There were some crazy women out there…

“Ha. No. She’s planning on winning the bid for me though I told her if anyone bids over €100,000 for me to just let them win. There’s a limit because they don’t want little teenager girls sneaking their way in and putting their parents’ mortgage on us.”

“What’s the limit?” I pushed curiously.

“€200,000.”

“€200,000?!” My boss Maureen practically yelled as I stood on the opposite side of her desk. I had been rehearsing in my head how I was going to ask her for this money ever since I left Mesut’s place and so far, it wasn’t going as planned. I expected her to refuse but I didn’t expect that I would forget completely all that I had planned to say.

“It’s for a good cause! And the money will go to charity!”

“That is a lot of money. I mean sure we have millions in our account but that’s for business purposes and I’m sure you’re not putting up any of this tab.”

She was right. I didn’t have €100,000 just free to exit my account. Hell, I didn’t even have €20,000 I was actually willing to part with for this purpose so I would just have to convince her it was a good investment. “It is for business purposes. We could win the bid for him and bring him to the office for a day, have him take pictures and somewhat promote the business. We could even have him call some big clients who are still deciding if they’re going to use us or have him come out with me to a home I’m working on. Having a superstar of Arsenal backing us would surely help business. It’s a great marketing tool. Everyone would want to use us then.”

I could see her eyes narrow with skepticism, her arms crossing over her chest but I could tell she was at least contemplating the idea. I stood there, trying my best to conjure up a convincing smile as I waited for her to speak again. We went a few more moments in silence before she huffed. “Fine but this better work!”

I walked into the ballroom, aligned with various round tables and highlighted by the stage displayed at the front of the room. Everyone seemed to be dressed in their best attire and I self-consciously pulled at the hem of my dress.

I still wasn’t quite sure why I had decided to do this but it was now or never as I stood in the back of the room, my eyes scouring the room until I saw some of the Arsenal players standing to the side chatting and laughing amongst each other.

I could recognize Mesut immediately as he took turns listening to his teammates and the man on stage who was suggesting the bidding was about to begin. I took a deep sigh and listened, relieved when the first name called was Olivier Giroud instead of Mesut.

I watched with amusement as many hands went in the air, women shouting various bids and Olivier gave a smug nod on stage in approval of all the love he was receiving. A woman squealed when she won the bid at €120,000. I peered around as she hopped up. She was fairly pretty. Blonde, petite. Olivier would have a good time.

A few other players were called before Mesut made his way to the stage. I looked around the room to see Mandy perking up in her seat, an excited smile decorating her lips while an amused smirk perked mine. If she only knew…

Hands went up in rapid succession yelling their bids but Mandy’s were always the loudest. I elected to remain quiet until they hit the number Mesut had told me of earlier.

“€100,000!” Mandy yelled and I saw Mesut smile on stage. The other bidders grew quiet, not wanting to go over such a large sum of money. That was when I stepped in. I didn’t move forward from where I stood in the back of the room but I made my voice powerful enough to be heard.

“€200,000.”

Immediately, eyes turned to me, most filled with awe and others smiling at me. Those smiles were mainly from a few of his teammates who recognized me. I could see Mesut trying to peer past the bright lights on stage to see the source of the voice and Mandy was turned in her seat looking at me with her mouth hung agape.

“Going once…twice…sold! To the beautiful lady in red,” the host exclaimed. Finally, the attention turned from me when the next player was led on stage and everyone began opening their wallets for Aaron Ramsey. Mesut was still looking in my direction and Mandy was now storming towards me with an angry look on her face.

“What the hell was that?!”

I shrugged carelessly. “I was just trying to raise some money for charity.” Lie.

“You sneaky—“

I cut her off with a smile before she could even begin to say anything else, realizing that at any moment Mesut may arrive by her side. “Oh, and by the way, Mesut doesn’t like stainless steel countertops in his kitchen. Too uncomfortable during sex,” I winked.

I didn’t bother giving her the satisfaction of being able to say anything else to me, instead confidently walking away as Mesut was now only steps away and looking at me with confusion. I was sure she’d divulge all the details of our conversation and her disapproval to him later in private.

gif credit to oliviergiroudd.

nytimes.com
Katy Perry on Grammy Parties, a New Album and Keeping Calm Online
Ms. Perry talks about hosting an event for “creators,” the Super Bowl halftime show and watching the Grammys in her pajamas.
By Joe Coscarelli

For the first time in eight years, Katy Perry is not attending the Grammy Awards. But she is planning a party.

On Saturday in downtown Los Angeles, ahead of the ceremony there on Monday, Ms. Perry will host what she’s billing as “An Evening to Celebrate the Creators,” a black-tie dinner for her fellow musicians that excludes the assorted hangers-on (publicists, managers, reporters) who typically crowd Grammy-weekend networking events.

“Artists are always looking for a way to connect with each other, but we don’t get that authentic connection because we’re either being pulled or pushed,” Ms. Perry said in an interview this week. Her co-hosts include the producer Greg Kurstin (Adele, Beck), the singer and songwriter Sia, and Missy Elliott; Spotify has signed on as a sponsor.

As Mark Williamson, the streaming service’s director of artist services, explained: “We bought into Katy’s vision that if we can work together to create these relationships, we’re going to benefit long-term, because we’re helping to improve their community.” (And yes, Adele and Taylor Swift, both of whom have withheld their music from Spotify, are invited, Ms. Perry said. “It’s just up to their schedules.”)

Along with a tight guest list — about 250 people — the night will include performances by Sia and Jack Garratt. “I hired a 14-piece orchestra to play all of the modern Top 40 songs,” Ms. Perry added.

Ms. Perry, who answered the telephone with an Adele-inflected hello, also discussed the Super Bowl halftime show, her progress on a new album and her plans for music’s biggest night. These are excerpts from the conversation.

Keep reading

Katy Perry on Grammy Parties, a New Album and Keeping Calm Online

For the first time in eight years, Katy Perry is not attending the Grammy Awards. But she is planning a party.

On Saturday in downtown Los Angeles, ahead of the ceremony there on Monday, Ms. Perry will host what she’s billing as “An Evening to Celebrate the Creators,” a black-tie dinner for her fellow musicians that excludes the assorted hangers-on (publicists, managers, reporters) who typically crowd Grammy-weekend networking events.

“Artists are always looking for a way to connect with each other, but we don’t get that authentic connection because we’re either being pulled or pushed,” Ms. Perry said in an interview this week. Her co-hosts include the producer Greg Kurstin (Adele, Beck), the singer and songwriter Sia, and Missy Elliott; Spotify has signed on as a sponsor.

As Mark Williamson, the streaming service’s director of artist services, explained: “We bought into Katy’s vision that if we can work together to create these relationships, we’re going to benefit long-term, because we’re helping to improve their community.” (And yes, Adele and Taylor Swift, both of whom have withheld their music from Spotify, are invited, Ms. Perry said. “It’s just up to their schedules.”)

Along with a tight guest list — about 250 people — the night will include performances by Sia and Jack Garratt. “I hired a 14-piece orchestra to play all of the modern Top 40 songs,” Ms. Perry added.

Ms. Perry, who answered the telephone with an Adele-inflected hello, also discussed the Super Bowl halftime show, her progress on a new album and her plans for music’s biggest night. These are excerpts from the conversation.

Keep reading

Somewhere Between, pt. 4

I’m still thinking this is gonna be a five-parter, but we’ll see.  The whole mess will go up on AO3 when it’s done but for now you can find the previous bits here:

Parts One, Two, and Three


Hannibal hadn’t quite realized how much time he was spending surreptitiously watching Will, until Will started watching him back.  The shift was imperceptible, but as recently as a few days ago he would look up and more often than not see Will’s dark head bent over a book, or find him gazing out the window, or with his eyes closed, daydreaming, perhaps of dogs or rivers.

Will still does those things.  But also, now, he watches Hannibal like it’s his new hobby.  Or like Hannibal’s a puzzle to solve. Perhaps a puzzle he’s almost solved already, with just a few pieces left to slot into place.

Hannibal doesn’t know the cause of the shift and not knowing makes him uneasy.  Will’s silent, curious gaze makes him uneasy.  It makes him feel pinned down and displayed, like one of his own tableaus.  As if Will can see Hannibal’s messy, bloody heart in all its newly-discovered vulnerability.  

Hannibal, who averts his eyes from very few things, finds himself looking away.

Keep reading

An Education.

I wrote something to ease myself. Its been a while since I wrote everything. How therapeutic it is to pull words from you brain and onto paper.

I sat on the floor packing my bags. I packed them over, and over and over again as if it would speed up time. It had been about three months since I last saw him. Three months since I held his arm while we slept. Three months since we explored the wilderness. Three months since I smelled him. In less than 24 hours I’d get to do that all again, and forever.

It’s rare to meet people that change you and rarer still to fall in love with them. When I met him, I felt I had met a better version of myself - someone with a sweet face who impressed me and made me feel special. Not special in a romantic way, but special in a cosmic way. I’d never felt so close to somebody so quickly, which made it easy for me to pack my bags, leave my things, and leave my country.

My heart was beating in slow motion as I walked through Customs and out the cold steel doors where I knew he would be waiting for me. I was struggling with my bags but when I looked up he was there smiling. He kissed me in a way that almost spoke the words “this is it” right into my soul. I was quiet on the drive back to his place as I took it all in. I couldnt do anything but look at him. I felt oddly frozen and in awe that we did it; we made it.

“Living with him is like being told a perpetual story: his mind is the biggest, most imaginative I have ever met. I could live in its growing countries forever.” 
― Sylvia Plath,

We spent months together beating games, sleeping in, drinking coffee and watching movies. Such simple things fulfilled me and I had found my one to do it with. We got our own place close to his work. I’d sit next to him and play with his hair while he worked from home. We’d stay up late and never regret it. He’d bring me home candy and energy drinks. All his actions, all his gestures filled me with joy. Love is different for everyone, and our version felt like the best version. I loved the world we lived in.

Time went on and he put a ring on my finger. He took me to a snowy hill that overlooked our city and said said the words. This is one of the first places he took me when I first visited him and its an event that i’d play out over and over in my head during our time apart. That single experience was so surreal.

“What did my arms do before they held you?”
― Sylvia Plath

As time does, it went on still. I lived a cozy life with a cozy boy and would plan wedding stuff in my head while we’d watch movies. I’d daydream a lot as an escape from living in a cold foreign country with no friends. It was lonely a lot of the time, but i’d never complain. This was my choice, and to me it was a no brainer. The effects of cabin fever would sometimes set in. I’d get moody. I’d get apathetic. Things always seemed fine. I was happy regardless. I could just look at him working on his computer and feel a sense of comfort.

“Life has been some combination of fairy-tale coincidence and joie de vivre and shocks of beauty together with some hurtful self-questioning.”
― Sylvia Plath,

As with most things, they don’t stay “fine” forever. People get to know each other. People get stressed. People get scared. People overly justify themselves. People get distracted. People get lost. We were no exception. Communication was a foreign concept for us and seeing as how communication is key it essentially locked any and all doors of progress for us. I have faults. As all people do. He has faults. As all people do.

We’re all just humans. We’re messy. We’re not good to each other.

Now, i’m sitting on the floor, packing my bags. In a few days I will be walking through those cold steel custom doors again but this time i’m headed home. Maybe its what I need. Old friends that get me. A dad that forces me to work on myself. A no-nonsense step mom. My free-spirited biological mother. The ocean, my old haunts - maybe it’s where I need to put what i’ve learned to use. I am comfortably numb.

“Is it the sea you hear in me?
Its dissatisfactions?
Or the voice of nothing, that was your madness?

Love is a shadow.
How you lie and cry after it.”
― Sylvia Plath,

It’s hard to see a good thing dissapate into the air like cheap cigerette smoke. It’s knowing you can’t go back wielding the hindsight you have now. It’s hard when someone changes their colors right in front of you, and treats you like you’re a criminal. It’s hard to fail somebody and realize too late. Everything’s hard. What’s easy? Loving somebody truly and fully takes so much tenacity. In reality, in the world we live in, more things fail than succeed but it’s hard to come to terms that life is a proverbial dice roll. You get lucky, but you won’t every time.

“I am still so naïve; I know pretty much what I like and dislike; but please, don’t ask me who I am. A passionate, fragmentary girl, maybe?”
― Sylvia Plath

Maybe its our generation. Maybe we just live in a time where we’re all overstimulated by social networking and spending more time pretending to be people we are not. We’re told what to think and feel everywhere we look. Maybe it’s something in the water. Maybe the internet makes it too easy to fuel the “grass is always greener” complex; makes it too easy to lose yourself. Maybe it’s because people say the important shit behind your back instead of your face. Maybe everyones moral and ethical high-ground has taken a back seat to popularity contests. We’re Millenials and we grew up thinking maybe we’re more important than we really are; where our phones and our follower count is more important than the people around us. Maybe.

Nothing good comes easy. Easy comes and goes. Here today; Gone tomorrow and all that jazz. With any loss, it’s important to take time to sit and reflect on what you’ve learned. You have to really put your pride aside and put it all out on the mental table and dissect it like a Freshman science project. You usually wont get the chance to go back with what you’ve learned, but you can take that and move forward. Nobody is perfect, so we should probably stop judging everyone.

“People or stars
Regard me sadly, I disappoint them.”
― Sylvia Plath

That’s where i’m at. I’ve had a lot of quiet time in a bedroom alone. I’ve dissected my thoughts. I see what worked and what didnt. I see what I can focus on now. That’s my consolation prize for not winning the relationship that meant the most to me. Is it totally fucking shitty? You bet. Do I wish I could change things? I’d say so. But I cant. All I can do is pack and prepare for my future. A better future, because I learned.

“God, but life is loneliness, despite all the opiates, despite the shrill tinsel gaiety of “parties” with no purpose, despite the false grinning faces we all wear. And when at last you find someone to whom you feel you can pour out your soul, you stop in shock at the words you utter - they are so rusty, so ugly, so meaningless and feeble from being kept in the small cramped dark inside you so long. Yes, there is joy, fulfillment and companionship - but the loneliness of the soul in its appalling self-consciousness is horrible and overpowering.”
― Sylvia Plath

The High Road: A Lesson in Attitude Adjustment. It’s so, so much easier to lash out, to hold things over peoples head, to look for reasons to be mad, to let your emotions control you. It’s so much easier to not try, to take sperate roads, to look for reassurance for your actions in other people. It’s easier to say mean words instead of kind words. Everyone has a defense mechanism, a coping mechanism - and that’s fine. We’re only human. The High Road is different for everyone, we self justify everything because who doesnt want to feel right in their words or actions? We talk about issues with people close to us knowing they’ll believe what we say and support us. We build up our own Fortress of Solitude and ride the rollercaster until time, as it does, washes some of it away. Humanity.

“We should meet in another life, we should meet in air, me and you.”
― Sylvia Plath

If there is one thing I’ve learned is that contempt breeds contempt. Throwing words like daggers to defend yourself from other daggers is purportless. I’ve learned to be tender and kind and honest to those that need it. My honesty is that I love him, and im proud of him in ways - im okay with his humanity and will be tender to him in hopes it soothes him somewhere secretly. There is a solace in fighting words with love. I can’t change anything, and I certainly can’t change a persons mind. Defending yourself against accusations grows emotionally tiresome and there is no shame in conceding. Let it all fall away like leaves on trees.

“Can you understand? Someone, somewhere, can you understand me a little, love me a little? For all my despair, for all my ideals, for all that - I love life. But it is hard, and I have so much - so very much to learn.”
― Sylvia Plath,

Soon I will be on the beach with a drink and my thoughts and my freed love for a person. It’s not how I wanted things to go, but i’m glad it happened and will be putting what I learned to use. I’ll be a better person on my own to honor a relationship that warmed me.

People can and will say what they want, but lifes a journey and everyones working on themselves until the end. Nobody knows anybody. We make our minds up based on physicality or strung bits of what we’ve heard;  of what we want to think.  Maybe we should stop passing judgement and spend a little more time in our heads. Myself very much included.

“Remember, remember, this is now, and now, and now. Live it, feel it, cling to it. I want to become acutely aware of all I’ve taken for granted. When you feel that this may be good-bye, the last time, it hits you harder.”
― Sylvia Plath