just a stranger on a bus

anonymous asked:

i started having a Manic Episode this morning in college so i left to get the bus and at the bus stop this boy smiled at me and it didn't mean anything he probably just felt awkward because who is this random crying girl like i know the bus is late but wth but i just really really needed that i guess like i needed a stranger to remind me that everything doesn't suck in the world and it's just my head right now and things can be good and i guess this is just a PSA to always smile at people

yes!!!💗💗💗

The Most Beautiful Man In The World, Who Lives In My Building And Only Ever Sees Me When I Look Disgusting

The Most Beautiful Man In The World lives in my building. i don’t know his name. we met on a bus, when i smiled WAY too brightly at him for strangers because, honest to god, my whole heart lit up in a way that made me think, “oh, i must know that guy!!” no. i didn’t. he’s just The Most Beautiful Man In The World.

what does The Most Beautiful Man In The World look like? i will tell you:

  • like the way the sun spills over water at dusk
  • like the way food smells when you’re hungry
  • like the sound angels make when they’re doing folk covers of pop songs on their heavenly harps
  • and also kind of like the guy who played Chad in “high school musical,” if the guy who played Chad in “high school musical” was the most beautiful man in the world.

i tell you this not only to brag that i live in the same apartment complex as The Most Beautiful Man In The World but also because i want to know WHY, if there even IS A GOD, every single time i run into The Most Beautiful Man In The World i look like a LITERAL DUMPSTER TROLL that has just CRAWLED OUT OF ITS GARBAGE HOUSE in search of FREE WIFI AND A SLURPEE. i want to know why i can never just BE COOL with The Most Beautiful Man In The World when we ride the elevator together, which is!!!! kind of often!!!!!

DID YOU GUYS KNOW that sometimes i look nice?? sometimes i actually look like a FUNCTIONING ADULT!!! sometimes i would go so far as to say i am an ATTRACTIVE INDIVIDUAL!!!!! 

you know who DOESN’T know any of that???

THE MOST BEAUTIFUL MAN IN THE WORLD, WHO LIVES IN MY BUILDING!!!

here’s a quick rundown of the last few times i ran into The Most Beautiful Man In The World:

  • i was wearing a maxi dress i had very cleverly biked home in, without a helmet* (*don’t try that at home, kids), in the VERY HOT AFTERNOON SUN, so i was a GROSS SWEAT MONSTER but without any OBVIOUS INDICATOR that there was a normal reason for it, and i couldn’t stand to look at him so i just glared at my phone while he probably wondered, alarmed, whether i was fleeing the scene of a crime
  • i was wearing a white shirt that i had not SECONDS before spilled salsa ALL OVER in a big red stain right down the front like a KINDERGARTNER
  • i was carrying two armfuls of ENORMOUS bags of popcorn with a three musketeers bar literally in my mouth and he overheard me say through my stuffed candy cheeks to my doorman, “oh, no, i’m not having a party, this is literally all for me”
  • i dropped my backpack while opening my mail and said to it, defeatedly, “why? why did you do that when i explicitly told you not to? do you like being on the floor?” 
  • i fell into and then off of the elevator

why??? why does this happen??? what vengeful god has orchestrated it so the ONLY TIMES i ever run into The Most Beautiful Man In The World are when i could easily be mistaken for a child’s doll that has been put through the wash by accident, or a dollar bill that has been stained by years of being in people’s sweaty palms, or a mop with eyes???

whatever. everything costs money and everyone you love disappoints you. Mop Eyes out.

Travel is little beds and cramped bathrooms. It’s old television sets and slow Internet connections. Travel is extraordinary conversations with ordinary people. It’s waiters, gas station attendants, and housekeepers becoming the most interesting people in the world. It’s churches that are compelling enough to enter. It’s McDonald’s being a luxury. It’s the realization that you may have been born in the wrong country. Travel is a smile that leads to a conversation in broken English. It’s the epiphany that pretty girls smile the same way all over the world. Travel is tipping 10% and being embraced for it. Travel is the same white T-shirt again tomorrow. Travel is accented sex after good wine and too many unfiltered cigarettes. Travel is flowing in the back of a bus with giggly strangers. It’s a street full of bearded backpackers looking down at maps. Travel is wishing for one more bite of whatever that just was. It’s the rediscovery of walking somewhere. It’s sharing a bottle of liquor on an overnight train with a new friend. Travel is “Maybe I don’t have to do it that way when I get back home.
—  Nick Miller, Isn’t It Pretty To Think So?

get lost. take that train. read for hours so time passes faster. talk with strangers. say hello to dogs. walk down streets you’ve never been to before. look up to the sky. go to coffee shops. tell that barista that you think her shirt is cute. take pictures with your polaroid camera. buy post cards. ask random people what their mantra is. go into that hipster looking vinyl shop and support the owner by buying a record by his favorite band. laugh with people you’ve just met. exchange numbers. ask for book recommendations. buy that book in the book store right around the corner. take the bus to a park. watch the sunset. remember that you are loved. take the train back home. hang the polaroids up your wall. continue exploring and learning. learn to love life.

A Little D for a Big A-hole.

When I was in eighth grade, my middle school French class took a trip to Québec City. My school was in the whitest part of whitest Connecticut and I had moved there a few years before from Atlanta. You can imagine the Izod-style culture shock I went through.

In any case, we were up in Québec City in February, for some awful reason. Probably because the prices were cheapest for hotels, I don’t know. I do remember it was cold and windy and snowed a lot.

I was a pretty geeky kid, unsurprisingly. I read Star Wars expanded universe novels during the morning reading period. I had disappeared into fantasy worlds after my brother died a few years before, just months after we moved to New England. Since my brother had died and I was a new kid, no one really knew how to be my friend. Some people were nice to me for awhile, but most ignored my existence.

One of the few people who took pity on me was the daughter of my church’s minister, who was in the same year as me. She’d invite me to eat lunch with her and her friends, even though I could tell her friends did not want me there.

Despite growing up speaking French, I was placed in introductory French – and never moved, because there was so much going on with my brother’s accident and eventual death that no one really bothered with my education. Thankfully, my French teacher was kind and would let me help lead the spoken French bits in class. This one boy liked to hang out after class and would mock me after I left, pinching his nose and doing his best “make fun of the French” accent. He liked to make my life hell in other ways, like stealing homework, tearing pages out of schoolbooks, or shoving my shoulder whenever he “bumped” me in the hallway. I had dealt with worse bullying before, so I mostly just tried to ignore him. His was never very serious, but it was constant.

In any case, I asked these girls I ate lunch with if I could room with them on this trip. I did not want to be randomly assigned somewhere. They grudgingly agreed to it.

Once we got to Québec, things changed. Our teachers told us we were allowed to explore the city in small groups and we were to use French only when interacting with shopkeepers and the like. Well, the girls I was rooming with quickly realized I was the only student in our class who actually spoke French. I helped my roommates order things at bakeries and make change and navigate around the city. Word quickly spread and by the end of the first day, several classmates came to me for phrases they could use.

On the second day of this trip, we were all supposed to meet up in this square in the old city at a particular time after being allowed to wander for a few hours. My group turned up a few minutes early and a group of boys – with my favorite harasser – was already there. The boys were clearly planning some kind of prank; there was a lot of stifled laughing and looking our way. The harasser came over to our group. He asked me how to say, “Are you my mother?”

Well, for those who don’t know:

“Es-tu ma mère?” means “Are you my mother?”

“Es-tu ma merde?” means “Are you my shit?”

Can you guess which one I told him? He had never paid attention in class, so to his ears (and the ears of our classmates), it sounded right. And no one would ever suspect quiet, mousy, geeky me of any shenanigans.

He went up to a stranger and asked her if she was his shit just as one of our teachers came around the corner. He got hauled by his ears, the teacher apologizing profusely to the woman while simultaneously scolding my harasser. Kid immediately tried to blame it on me but his protestations were immediately dismissed. The teacher did check with everyone, but no one had heard the difference in the language used so backed up my version of events.

He had detention for the rest of the trip and was not allowed to participate in any of the activities. He had to sit on the bus and write an essay.

He was far more cautious about being an a**hole to me in the future.

The “Bubble”

I hear a lot of bullshit about living in “bubbles” here in the United States. Specifically, I hear about how we live in liberal or conservative bubbles, where we only hear viewpoints similar to ours, and this is detrimental.

I really hate this bullshit.

I grew up in a predominantly white, predominantly Christian, very affluent suburb. The majority of minority students in my school system were East and South Asian. My extracurriculars kept me surrounded by a similar demographic.

Then I moved to the city. Through my academic and professional life, I began to interact with a shitload of people who were not originally from the United States, but came here to study, to teach, to practice medicine, to do research. I began to interact with people who were born here, but who were first generation Americans.

And just walking around and living in the city, I began to interact with people of all classes, ethnicities, countries of origin, religions, and so on and so forth. It is normal to me to be on the train and hear conversations in Spanish, in Chinese, in Arabic. It is normal for me to see signage in different languages. It is normal for me to pass by stores that sell Indian bridalwear, or a Russian pharmacy, or a Chinese specialty food shop.

Normal. Normal. Normal.

One day this past fall, I was sitting and waiting for the bus. An older woman sat beside me and began to talk to me (at me, to be honest; I don’t make conversation with strangers most of the time). She complained about how climate change meant that she had to drive out to another part of the state to see the leaves change, to experience a proper autumn. She said, despairingly, that you just couldn’t see the change in the city.

I commented that I’d grown up in a rural suburb, where I’d gotten to experience the spectacular leaf change she was talking about, but I preferred to live in the city.

“Why?” she’d asked.

“Well, public transit,” I explained. “I don’t have to have a car anymore. And there are stores everywhere and lots of great places to eat. And it’s much more diverse. I grew up in a mostly white suburb–not very diverse.”

As the bus pulled up, she asked me, “Why would diversity be important?”

I was a little stunned that anyone would even think to ask that question, so I didn’t have a ready response. Luckily, once we got on the bus, the conversation was over, so I could just curl up in a seat and relax till I got to my stop. But her question bothered me, and it wasn’t until the election that I could articulate an answer.

Diversity fosters empathy.

That’s not to say that you can’t be empathetic if you don’t grow up in a diverse area. I didn’t grow up in a diverse area, and I’d like to think I’m still empathetic. But diversity absolutely fosters empathy.

So when people talk about bubbles, I call bullshit. I’m a progressive liberal for a lot of reasons, and one major reason is that I live in a diverse city, and I work in a diverse field. That is not a bubble. That is not the same as being surrounded by like on a regular basis, and being afraid of the Other.

Sharing political ideals is not living in a bubble. Subscribing to factual news is not living in a bubble. Refusing to tolerate fascist bullshit and cutting people out of your life when they espouse it?

Not living in a bubble.

Trouble in Canada

Request: “I’m your husband, it’s my job.”

a/n: I hope you enjoy this itty bitty 10 page writing that I’ve been working on for a few days now ! 😉 ALSO @whitechocolateperfection wanted some angst so I wrote some angst and I hope y’all enjoy and I’d love to know your thoughts!!!

Your name: submit What is this?

“I’ll see you at the next session?”

            You picked your head up from rummaging in your bag and smiled at Ethan, your cooking class instructor, “My husband might be back in town, but I’ll see,”

           Ethan nodded his head steadily.  After a while of looking at each other, you diverted your gaze down towards the wooden table.  You saw his tapping fingers slowly make their way towards your hand that was rested on the table.

           Quickly, you moved your hand, and placed your engagement and wedding ring back on your left hand.  You did’t like cooking with your rings on in fear that they could fall down the drain if you were washing your hands, “Uh, Thanks for the lesson, I’ll see you later.”

           You heard an audible sigh escape his lips, “See you next week, Mrs. Mendes.” 

           As fast as you could, you scurried out the door and saw your friend, Jessie, waiting for you outside.  She saw your flustered expression and smirked, “Looks like the teacher has a crush on the student.” 

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im watching a girl on the bus put on lip balm.
her hair is rained on and pulled into a tiny loop on the back of her head.
i feel connected to her because we are both wet and wearing lipstick and heavy shoes
she is pulling sunglasses out of her backpack and pulling a piece of hair off her face. she is sliding a pin against her head.
she moves her hands like someone is watching. I think we all do this.
I wonder if
girls are poetic because we simply are or because someone is always watching us. being a voyeur makes me feel less innocent.

but still I wonder what she is reading. i wonder if the lipstick she’s wearing is her favorite or if it’s just the one she had in her pocket today. i wonder who she is going to meet tonight.

When she’s getting off the bus she smiles at me and i feel at ease. i want to tell her she is beautiful but I remember that every time a stranger told me I was beautiful it has made me feel uneasy. so I watch her go and I am grateful

The Hausmates as stuff my bf did
  • Bitty: came to school in bright pink pajamas with little dancing zebras on them just because
  • Jack: Got me sunflowers during February bc he is just that extra
  • Holster: put a flower in his mouth chewed on it then tried to kiss me (it was our first date)
  • Ransom: teared his meniscus while twerking
  • Lardo: chased ducks and fell into the pond trying to catch them
  • Shitty: Got so high that, when he wanted to kiss me at the cinema, he leaned to the wrong side and kissed a stranger on the cheek instead
  • Dex: Once went on a two page long rent about the German train system during an exam
  • Nursey: befriended every bus driver he knows and has not paid for a bus ticket in five years
  • Chowder: still draws little sun's into the corners of letters he sends to people
  • Tango: Once wrote the pope a letter asking him to be his prom date
  • Whiskey: once used all his money to drunkenly buy two life sized stone gargoyles
Humans and Animals are Weird

You probably have seen plenty of Human are Weird/Space Orcs, but what if this weirdness isn’t exclusive to Humans. How about animals? I don’t mean a fox launching like a rocket to land face first on its food and get stuck vertically in snow, but something a bit closer to home

Imagine the crew making a stop on Earth, and most of the beings make the sensible thing and they stay indoors, away from all that Human madness, but there one who decides to “get a tour” as Human Maria put it.

Yo'lan is fascinated by humans, so xe jumped to the chance of experiencing Earth’s public transport with xer Human friend.

The pair make their way to the metro, waiting with all the other small Humans, when two of xer 5 eyes see something that looks out of place. A small gray bird is on the platform, seemingly unafraid of the much larger Humans around it. Yo'lan looks around, but no Human seems to think there’s anything unusual about it so Yo'lan simply watches.

Yo'lan still remains quiet when a big furred creature makes its way next to the bird and sits down, looking towards the metro tracks.

A few moments later the metro finally arrives and the two animals stand up to follow a door as it slows down. Yo'lan follows Human Maria and they take two empty seats. Still, Yo'lan keeps three eyes on the two animals as the larger one lays down across two seats, stretching its front paws out, while the bird waddles between two seats, snuggly settling down in the space between seats.

Some humans take out some of recording devices to make a short recording of the animals, but nobody says or do anything about the apparently wild animals.

“Human Maria,” Yo'lan finally breaks, turning towards xer friend. “Why is that dog in the metro?”

“That’s a coyote,” Human Maria looks at the furry creature as the coyote opens its maw wide in a yawn. The smaller human makes the shoulder-lift motion as a smile crosses her face. “Well, he’s obviously tired, maybe he didn’t want to drive back home?”

Later that night, Yo'lan was still trying to process what Maria told xer. Wild species mimicking Human behaviors, something Humans found endearing and common enough to simply take it as part of their everyday lives, but not more than that. Could this be why they allowed so many animal species without an apparent use to continue living alongside them? Could the humans have found a kinship towards these wild creatures that still tried to live like them?

Regardless, such philosophical thoughts could wait for another day. Yo'lan was now busy with the discovery that Humans had literally hundreds of Earth years worth of recordings of animals behaving outside their instincts, and xe intended to absorb as much info as xe could.

Maybe it was not just Humans that are weird, maybe every native of this planet was weird!

————————- 

Think of those street cats and dogs begging for headpats from random strangers, a crow asking a human to open a water bottle, all kind of dogs and cats taking the bus or the metro to visit their owners at work, pets having discussions with their humans, all the pizza rats!

This was very much inspired by a twitter video of a pigeon waiting for the train, walking into the car like it owned the place and then sitting on the space between cars, and also by a gif of a coyote chilling on two seats in the bus.

can we talk about how much strength and willpower it must have taken for sana to bare her soul out into that message she sent to the girls. 

she opened up about how a social worker told her she had anger management issues.  she opened up about her deepest insecurities. she opened up about how she never felt enough in any which way to the things that make up her identity. 

how she opened up about how much she perhaps had let that affect the girls because she just, for once, wanted all the different parts of her identity - her muslim side, her norwegian side, her moroccan side - all to just, come together in some way, in some form of harmony so as to prove it to herself and the world: that, see, all the parts of my identities can be in sync, because she was tired of people, both close to her and strangers, telling her it couldn’t.

and she did that by having the girls and herself join the bus because that became so important to her, proving people wrong became so important to her, because she was bullied for always being the “other”, and even in that, she got bullied again. got set up again, got deceived again. got ostracised again. because yet again, she was the “other”.

until she finally realised that she couldn’t be silent anymore, and so she made a huge error. a huge huge huge error, and then she owned up to that error. she was ready to face the consequences of that error she made, one of those being that, if she didn’t make the girls understand why she did what she did, and if she didn’t do it NOW, then she’d lose the girls that have been her best friends, for perhaps, forever. 

and maybe if she did lose them forever, the one thing she wanted more than anything from them, was forgiveness for her ways.

sana laid herself bare. she opened herself up entirely, perhaps for the first time ever, to the girls, to eva, vilde, chris and noora, knowing what the stakes were. knowing that she could have said all this, and still, perhaps it may not have been enough of an explanation.

but she did it, anyway. she did that. and i am so, so, so proud of her. so proud of sana.

Supergirl AU

Cat Grant knows her assistants are cheating, she just doesn’t know how yet.

She even knows the exact date it started almost two years ago, when suddenly her constant stream of incompetent aides began to improve, to last longer. All her life her assistants have been barely adequate, but for some reason the last handful have gotten sharper and sharper. 

It’s been three weeks with this new one and, while his performance within CatCo is lackluster at best, he has yet to make a single mistake with her coffee or food orders. And if there is one thing Cat values more than all else its what she consumes; she spends all day creating media for the consumption of millions so what she herself takes in is of the highest priority.

This week she had a stress headache and she sent him off with a screech to get her some sustenance. Now she had very low expectations for this, so imagine her surprise when he comes back with a perfectly made bacon wrapped hamburger (her headache guilty pleasure) and a medium latte with just a dash of cinnamon. 

There is no way on Earth that this Witt fellow should know about that. Her guilty pleasures are closely guarded secrets, and Cat Grant has never explicitly told anyone about her infatuation with bacon and cinnamon (both separate and together). And yet when she needed it the most, he just happens to get it exactly right. This assistant hasn’t even made it a month yet; there’s no way he knows this is a weakness of hers.

Which means there’s a snitch somewhere feeding answers to her assistants.

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MESSAGE DELIVERED | pt.1

→ Pairing: Jungkook x Reader / Namjoon x Reader
→ Genre: fluff, smut, angst, humor
→ Words: 2,517
→ Rated: NC-17
→ Warnings: alcohol, language
→ Summary: A text message sent to the wrong number turns into a long lasting affair between two people completely opposite one another.
→ Note: This is an old thing and actually the first thing I wrote after the accident, and I decided to post it again because I kind of hold it close to my heart ? It’s not all going to be texts between the characters, but quite a lot of backstory and stuff the more we get into it. It’ll be told from both Y/N’s POV and Jungkook’s. Please enjoy! :)

Parts: 01 : interim : 02 : coming soon

cr.


The first time you receive one it’s in the middle of the night.

At first you simply stir in your sleep, turning around as if that will somehow stop the annoying buzzing resounding from under your pillow. When it doesn’t, you grab the cursed device and flip it over in your hands, wondering whom of your stupid friends decided to be an excruciating pain in the ass this late.

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A Little D for a Big Asshole

When I was in eighth grade, my middle school French class took a trip to Québec City. My school was in the whitest part of whitest Connecticut and I had moved there a few years before from Atlanta. You can imagine the Izod-style culture shock I went through.

In any case, we were up in Québec City in February, for some awful reason. Probably because the prices were cheapest for hotels, I don’t know. I do remember it was cold and windy and snowed a lot.

I was a pretty geeky kid, unsurprisingly. I read Star Wars expanded universe novels during the morning reading period. I had disappeared into fantasy worlds after my brother died a few years before, just months after we moved to New England. Since my brother had died and I was a new kid, no one really knew how to be my friend. Some people were nice to me for awhile, but most ignored my existence.

One of the few people who took pity on me was the daughter of my church’s minister, who was in the same year as me. She’d invite me to eat lunch with her and her friends, even though I could tell her friends did not want me there.

Despite growing up speaking French, I was placed in introductory French – and never moved, because there was so much going on with my brother’s accident and eventual death that no one really bothered with my education. Thankfully, my French teacher was kind and would let me help lead the spoken French bits in class. This one boy liked to hang out after class and would mock me after I left, pinching his nose and doing his best “make fun of the French” accent. He liked to make my life hell in other ways, like stealing homework, tearing pages out of schoolbooks, or shoving my shoulder whenever he “bumped” me in the hallway. I had dealt with worse bullying before, so I mostly just tried to ignore him. His was never very serious, but it was constant.

In any case, I asked these girls I ate lunch with if I could room with them on this trip. I did not want to be randomly assigned somewhere. They grudgingly agreed to it.

Once we got to Québec, things changed. Our teachers told us we were allowed to explore the city in small groups and we were to use French only when interacting with shopkeepers and the like. Well, the girls I was rooming with quickly realized I was the only student in our class who actually spoke French. I helped my roommates order things at bakeries and make change and navigate around the city. Word quickly spread and by the end of the first day, several classmates came to me for phrases they could use.

On the second day of this trip, we were all supposed to meet up in this square in the old city at a particular time after being allowed to wander for a few hours. My group turned up a few minutes early and a group of boys – with my favorite harasser – was already there. The boys were clearly planning some kind of prank; there was a lot of stifled laughing and looking our way. The harasser came over to our group. He asked me how to say, “Are you my mother?”

Well, for those who don’t know:

“Es-tu ma mère?” means “Are you my mother?”

“Es-tu ma merde?” means “Are you my shit?”

Can you guess which one I told him? He had never paid attention in class, so to his ears (and the ears of our classmates), it sounded right. And no one would ever suspect quiet, mousy, geeky me of any shenanigans.

He went up to a stranger and asked her if she was his shit just as one of our teachers came around the corner. He got hauled by his ears, the teacher apologizing profusely to the woman while simultaneously scolding my harasser. Kid immediately tried to blame it on me but his protestations were immediately dismissed. The teacher did check with everyone, but no one had heard the difference in the language used so backed up my version of events.

He had detention for the rest of the trip and was not allowed to participate in any of the activities. He had to sit on the bus and write an essay.

He was far more cautious about being an asshole to me in the future.

tl;dr: bully tried to be a smart-ass in French on a class trip; I added a letter and changed the meaning of a word, which got him in huge trouble. No one suspected me of anything.

When you think of someone a ton right before you go to bed, you appear in at least one of their dreams. It may be only for just a second but you do. And when they think of you before bed, they’ll appear in your dreams. But darling, if you both think of each other before you go to bed, oh the things that’ll happen. It’ll be the most vivid dream you’ll have that night and you’ll remember it for the longest time.
—  From a stranger on a bus when she heard me talking about dreaming of him 
“Sorry for not believing in you“

(A/N): I‘ve always wanted to write a soulmate AU, so this is a big deal for my crippling author career. Enjoy x 

Words: 2,062

Originally posted by tylerandthejosephs

The air is like frozen lace on your skin, delicate and cold. The sky is washed with grey, watery light illuminating thin patches to brilliance. That special cold and pale light, only the winter‘s sun can give, makes everything glow with slippery ice. It‘s the perfect day for staying home but sadly, you had to work today. You‘re seated at the bus stop with both arms crossed over your chest, hugging your body, as if that could provide you with some kind of warmth. 

All of sudden you see a woman getting dragged by her poodle towards another dog owner across the street and as expected, they collide. The man has lost his hat due to the incident, causing a royal blue strand on his head to become visible and remarkably stand out from the rest of his hair. Instantly noticing the phenomenon, the lady lets a loud gasp escape her lips and urgently draws the guy‘s attention to her streak of hair, that coincidentally has the exact same pigment as his. The next thing that happens is acted out just like in the movies, the lovers jump into each other‘s arms and share a passionate kiss as they pull away. At the same time, the royal blue pieces of hair from each one of them loose their colour and blend into the rest. Eventually, it seems like the scenery has turned out to be the complete opposite of a simple coincidence. Oh, the things you‘d do to finally experience the same spectacle…When will it finally be your turn to find your soulmate?

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Modern AUs I Want to Happen
  • I need new glasses and you’re the optometrist running my vision tests, but your good looks are really freaking distracting
  • You’re allergic to cats but my cat really likes you my bad
  • I adopted a kid and you help me take care of them all the time since we’re neighbors, but you came over and got so involved in the kid’s life so much they think that we’re both their parents instead of just me
  • I got caught in the rain without an umbrella and an attractive stranger is sharing theirs with me
  • We’re playing Monopoly in the local library and the game just got serious, I think the librarians are about to kick us out
  • I have a crush on my younger sibling’s tutor, but I don’t know how to work myself into the scene without making everything incredibly awkward for me
  • You caught me having a Barbie movie marathon and now I’m trying to keep you from telling anyone about this!
  • My pet ran away, I got fired from my job, it started raining out of nowhere and I fell in the mud, and you’re just a random stranger at my bus stop but I really need someone to talk to
  • Alternatively, I’ve always wanted to tell a stranger my life story and I’m choosing you
  • It’s Spirit Week at school and I’m determined to out spirit you for once
  • We got put in the same group for the senior trip
  • This is a big ass mall and I just got lost, please help me
  • My rival and I are determined for us and our respective partners to be the ultimate power couple, but you and the other person in our rival couple really don’t care
  • You keep coming in to get your laptop fixed but I’m pretty sure your breaking it on purpose but you’re cute so I’ll let it slide
  • You’re my apathetic (onesided) rival at work and this month I’m determined to get Employee of the Month, which you always get without even trying
  • I met you at a convention and you’re cosplaying Person B to my OTP and I’m cosplaying Person A
  • We’re internet friends and we’re meeting up in real life today and I’m super paranoid because what if you’re a deranged killer and– omg you’re perfect
  • You got me addicted to playing Love Live and I’m ruining my life
  • I’m an artist who was at shit creek until I met you, so please be my muse, no, I’m not asking you out
  • I just showed you all the Shrek is Love, Shrek is Life videos and I think I just scarred you for life
  • I just crashed this wedding and one of the guests just asked me to dance and I’m pretty sure that they know I’m not a guest from either the bride or groom(brides, grooms) fml
  • Dude check it out this pair of jeans fits us! Shut up, they aren’t sweatpants they’re jeans
  • I’m donating blood today and I’m afraid of needles
  • We’ve been hooking up for the past few weeks and holy shit it turned out you’re my fifth grader’s teacher oh god this embarrassing!
  • Pack up man; we’re going on a road trip
  • Let’s get tattoos together
  • Hey I just met you, and this is crazy, but can you go on the bungee jumping thing with me? Cuz I’m too scared to go by myself
  • I’ve never had a proper conversation with you, but I always see you at this cafe folding paper cranes and I you’re really peaking my interest
  • I’m forcing you to watch my favorite show and you’re more into it than I am now
  • We’re having our first argument as a married couple: do we explore this island, or do we stay in bed all day
Travel is little beds and cramped bathrooms. It’s old television sets and slow Internet connections. Travel is extraordinary conversations with ordinary people. It’s waiters, gas station attendants, and housekeepers becoming the most interesting people in the world. It’s churches that are compelling enough to enter. It’s McDonald’s being a luxury. It’s the realization that you may have been born in the wrong country. Travel is a smile that leads to a conversation in broken English. It’s the epiphany that pretty girls smile the same way all over the world. Travel is tipping 10% and being embraced for it. Travel is the same white T-shirt again tomorrow. Travel is accented sex after good wine and too many unfiltered cigarettes. Travel is flowing in the back of a bus with giggly strangers. It’s a street full of bearded backpackers looking down at maps. Travel is wishing for one more bite of whatever that just was. It’s the rediscovery of walking somewhere. It’s sharing a bottle of liquor on an overnight train with a new friend. Travel is “Maybe I don’t have to do it that way when I get back home.
—  Nick Miller, Isn’t It Pretty To Think So?
Torn [Chapter 1]

Mood board by MY LOVE @memoiresofaneternaldreamer

Chapter 1 of Torn

Got7 Hyung Line Series

Series Genre: AU/Smut/Fluff/Angst

A/N: Contains Text Image


“How can you be so selfish?” he asked. “Do you honestly mean to tell me you don’t see how your actions could have affected other people? People who love you?”

Your chest tightened at the solemn yet enraged look on his face. He stood there, breaking in front of your eyes, all because of you.

“Love?” was all you could manage.

“Yes, love, Y/N. Don’t act so naive. The way you were with me, the things we did - any rational person would assume that the sentiment was mutual”.

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