london evening

Just think in a couple of weeks, your phone could light up with a notification: “saying goodbye one last time”
There’s a picture of their lounge. The windows are open. The walls are bare. The wood floor has been polished. It is completely empty.
The next picture is their kitchen. Cupboards all clean. No house plants on the window seal. No more miscellaneous junk on top of the cabinets. “No more running into this glass door” reads the caption.
The next picture is a side by side comparison of their empty bedrooms. The old piano still sat where it was against the empty wall. There were still furniture marks dent into the carpet. The windows are drawn up and open, leaking light into the naked rooms.
The next picture is a picture of their ascending staircase into the third bedroom. Or as better well known as their office. The wall is bare of wirrow and bryony art and their radiator is clean from dust. There’s no 6 ft leaning plant nestled into the corner. Everything looks grey.
Finally, it’s a peer look into the empty office. No couch or desk to be seen. The patches in the walls have been filled and repainted. The room looked the smallest of all the house.
“Onto Bigger and Better things”

8/4/17

i was supposed to get on a plane to india this morning for four days to see my extended relatives. i have been dreading it and avoiding it for years because it usually entails me sitting around by myself without actual personal space while everyone ignores me most of the day and then finally decides they have time for me at the end and tries to figure out why i’m not feeling super up to talking about what i’m doing with my life. in blazing heat, no less. 

i didn’t get on the plane, and then i debated getting on another plane to dublin or a train to glasgow because i want to run away from myself and maybe make how i feel inside come out even slightly on the outside, and maybe if i ran away i could do that, but instead of being on a plane or train to anywhere, least of all an obligation, i have a free saturday night, and i feel antsy about it. it’s weird to actually have free time - if only because i cancelled on something. the plane has gone, and i can’t get it back, so the decision is made now.

i want to be proud of myself but i don’t quite know how. story of my life, i guess?

i stood up for myself. i don’t feel great about it, but the sudden growth of a spine makes sense in a lot of ways. i’ve definitely grown into a person for whom it doesn’t make sense to do things on obligation, unless it leads to an overarching goal, and flying eight hours to sit alone in a room with a/c and be bored and uncomfortable and imprisoned doesn’t make sense to me. boredom doesn’t suit me at all, and neither does the inability to come and go.

i decided that it might make me a bad person not to visit my grandparents, but i don’t actually care. it’s strange to think of something that’s always been a relatively unrewarding experience and an obligation, and just shrug and not actually do it because i don’t actually have to. it’s good to realise a priority and act upon it rather than faking my way through it, especially since i’ve never been good at not being myself and i think everyone picked up on that when i was four years old. the whole thing is confusing, because i care a lot about being a good person - i’m scared that it might make me a bad person, but in this case, circumstance has led me to a breaking point where i don’t care that much if this makes me a bad person. 

maybe i’ll sleep for the entire day (just kidding).

going through the kpop smut tag lately as been
- complaining about underage smut
- a meme
- a fluff with no smut
- someone else complaining about underage smut
- another meme
- fluffs, angsts, series
- no actual smuts
- a decent smut plot appears
- but it’s a bts smut
- of course

archiveofourown.org
places to be - Sixthlight - Rivers of London - Ben Aaronovitch [Archive of Our Own]
Tolstoy was wrong: every happy family is happy in its own way.
By Organization for Transformative Works

@themardia made me do this and I blame her for EVERYTHING. (This is the not-OT3 fic where Beverley and Peter have their first kid and Nightingale just kind of…accidentally starts co-parenting. Tyburn and Fleet are VERY CONCERNED.)